Pat Ritter. Books

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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 35:

A Square Peg

At the time we are born, we are given a life similar to a deck of cards. We’re not quite certain which card will benefit us or when. Let me share a story of my life to illustrate my analogy with a deck of cards.
I was born into a family in the late 1940’s. Three years after World War 11 ended. I’m a baby boomer. Life from day one was mixed with love and devotion shared among many relatives and my parents.
In those times, shortly after the war, life was tough for many families. My family first lived with my grandparents and eventually moved out to a housing commission estate in Zillmere. Unfortunately I can’t remember much of these times because of my young age.
When I was five years old my parents left the city to settle in a country town. There we remained for six years whilst I attended primary school.
Authority was strict in these times, not only delivered by parents, relatives, also by authoritative figures.
My deck of cards began to crumble at an early age. When I reflect on this time; I remember not being capable of speaking with either of my parents or close relatives without receiving their comments of me being ‘stupid’ or an ‘idiot’. From this moment I felt my life was a square peg trying to squeeze into a round hole.
Not knowing any difference between acting normal as a child, I continued to receive this verbal abuse from my parents and relatives. Actually, with this burden on my shoulders, I thought in all honesty I was an ‘idiot’ and in fact ‘stupid’ and knew no other way.
It was a time of my life when I lived in fear of doing the wrong thing and getting into trouble. Many a time I thought about ‘why’ I was this way and felt I must have been born with a defect for so many close relatives to think this of me.
It wasn’t until I turned forty years of age, I reflected upon my life thus far to discover I accomplished more than either of my parents and those close relatives who’d claimed I was an ‘idiot’ and ‘stupid’.
It was time to lash out and protect myself. I remember the moment as if it had recently occurred. My uncle, a close relative, commented how I’d achieved so much in life and wondered how because I was always ‘stupid’ and an ‘idiot’. I blasted back at him with such force he was lost for words.
From that moment onward I dispelled the cards I was dealt with as a child and now find I am a square peg in a square hole and enjoy the feeling of self-assurance and self-confidence it draws.
Word count: 468.
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 36:

One Fine Day

The year 1960, a popular song blasted the airways - ‘One Fine Day’ sung by the Chiffons.
Christmas that year, our family visited relatives in Cunnamulla, a western town in south-west Queensland near the border of New South Wales. We stayed with my uncle and aunt. Cunnamulla around Christmas is over one hundred and twenty degrees the waterbag. It is so hot the bitumen melts on the road.
Flies a menace; this is why the ‘Australian Wave’ was invented by sweeping your hand across your face a thousand times a day to keep the little black monsters clear of your eyes.
I remember walking from my uncle’s home to the town centre, one fine day, being attached by these small flying creatures. My arms sore after trying to keep them at bay, however hard I tried, they kept buzzing around my head and face.
Playing in my mind was the song, ‘One Fine Day’. The melody kept playing over and over in my mind, until the words echoed from my mouth. I couldn’t open my mouth too wide because of the fly population. They hoped I’d open wider, enough to enter it. There is nothing worse than spitting dead flies from your mouth or even swallowing some which didn’t escape. I tried to ignore them as much as I could, listen to the melody in my head.
My cousin, John, whose parents owned a hotel, meet me in front of his parent’s hotel. We left the flies to their next target and escaped into the confines of an upstairs bedroom.
They were richer than my parents and had the latest record player, turn-table, which played vinyl records. John, that morning purchased the record ‘One Fine Day’ from the local record store.
Over and over we played the record turning the volume higher each time. The song indelible in our minds, it kept repeating over and over until each single word we knew by heart.
I’ll never forget the moment John’s mother entered the room to see us standing in front of the mirror, holding her hair brush in our hand singing along to the record. Instantly we stopped and replaced her hair brush and switched off the record.
The look in her eyes, together with the raised voice indicated we immediately leave the room and go outside and play with the flies.
Although it has been more than five decades ago since John and I played ‘One Fine Day’; this record and memories have stayed with me. It’s one of those life’s moments to treasure.
Word count: 431
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 37:

A Sea Story

Death is the final stage to our lives. I want to share a story about a wonderful woman, a dear friend, whose sudden death left a huge hole in our hearts.
Over the years our dear friend told us, ‘when I die, I don’t want a funeral. I’ve paid for a wake for my friends to enjoy and celebrate. I want my ashes shattered in the sea’.
Basically each time our dear friend repeated her wishes, we didn’t take any notice and thought it would never happen for years. Earlier this year she fell at home and broke her ankle.
Two days after her operation we visited our friend at the hospital and the operation was a success. We ed and joined in celebrations.
Two days later she never left the hospital. Complications arose from the operation and our friend passed away. To say it was a shock – would’ve been an understatement.
Without our friend, we felt sorrow and loss. She was with us – no more. Because she didn’t want a funeral, we found it difficult to say our final farewell and closure.
Six weeks after her death, we attended our friend’s wake. At ten o’clock in the morning we joined relatives, friends and acquaintances to board a ferry and rejoice her life.
Twenty-six mourners gathered on the vessel. Morning tea served and the skipper headed from the wharf. Slowly the vessel putted heading for open sea.
Fortunately it was a fine day with a cool breeze and the sun shining. You would almost think our friend had arranged the weather because of her request and wake.
Arriving at the desired spot, the skipper dropped anchor. No wind blew – it was calm and surreal. Words of grief spoken by a cousin about the life of our friend dug deep into our heart and soul. We missed her smiling face and especially her company.
Others spoke of our friend in their own way. We felt lost to witness her wish eventually came true. Ceremony of her ashes thrown to the winds of the sea; first floating, disappeared below the water; left us hollow inside.
Our friend was a member of a flower group. Each mourner chose a flower and cast it into the water in a flotilla of flowers in remembrance. This moment will never leave me.
Although our friend’s request was carried out to the letter, closure was difficult to feel. She continues to remain in our hearts and soul. May she rest in peace?
Word count: 421
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 38:

What Took You So Long?

Imagination for a child of ten years old can at times be scary. I grew up in a country town where everyone knew one another and all children gathered and played on their neighbourhood corner without trouble.
Cricket in the late 50’s and 60’s; the order of the day using the rubbish bin as the stumps; an old bat, worn and seen better days with the bowler using a battered tennis ball which had seen more games than Rod Laver. We had no fear.
Sunday nights we’d gather at the gospel hall and listen to the preacher sing his sermon and scare the hell out of us young children with his blasphemy of words. If we committed a sin, we would go to the fires of hell, he told us. We believed him.
This was a good upbringing because we never feared anything, apart from the bogyman at night, if we didn’t go to bed when told by our parents. Peace and contentment ruled the world.
Looking back on these times I did feel fear – particularly loneliness and at times not knowing where my parents had gone. They regularly went to visit their friends and play cards. We didn’t have mobile telephones or the telephone in those times.
One particular Sunday night, nearing dark, I was home alone. I waited for my parents to arrive home so we could attend gospel. This particular night they didn’t arrive home to take me to gospel.
Images grew in my mind of my parents being taken by the devil because I’d done something wrong. A shape of a person dressed in a red coloured coat holding a huge fork, prodding my parents closer to the fires of hell sprung into my mind as an image.
Darkness grew over my home where each noise scared the hell out of me. Would they ever come home, kept repeating through my mind?
Our family didn’t have a motor vehicle, only pushbikes, one black and the other pink. My mother rode the pink one whilst my father rode the other.
Frightened to not seeing my parents again, I began to cry, tears running down my face like a torrent. Suddenly the front door opened and there standing together - my parents, my mother said, ‘are you ready for church?’
Between the sobs of seeing my parents again, I said, ‘what took you so long?’
Word count: 405
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 39:

Boy Meets Girl

Do you believe in soulmates? I do. In fact I’ve been lucky enough to have had two soulmates so far in my life. When I met my wife forty years ago I didn’t know what a soulmate meant.
After thirty-one years of marriage I lost her to cancer robing a life not being able to see her grandchildren born or indeed grow up. How we met was extraordinary.
A couple of days before my twenty-third birthday; from the first time our eyes met, I knew she was the one for me. Something in the stars I suppose.
After a short engagement, we married. Like I mentioned thirty-one years later I lost her to that dreaded disease cancer. Throughout those thirty-one years we were joined at the hip and thoroughly loved one another.
I don’t know if you believe in fate or destiny. From evidence which has happened in my life, I’m a believer. I’ll share a story to back up my beliefs.
Ten years ago I decided to retire from the workforce and concentrate on my writing. When I told my wife these wishes, she said, ‘how are we going to eat?’ Her wish was to retire at Imbil in the Mary Valley. I’d never been to Imbil and had no idea where it was. It could have been on Mars for all I knew.
On chance, we drove to Imbil in search of a property to purchase for our retirement. In the window of Imbil Real Estate was a property we desired. We purchased it not knowing who was the previous owner or any other knowledge. It was the property we wanted.
Within twelve months of purchasing the property my wife was stricken down with cancer and passed away. We hadn’t completed our home. Her wishes were to be cremated and laid to rest in front of the house. I fulfilled her wishes.
Ten weeks after my wife lost her life, another person at Imbil returned home to find her husband had passed away suddenly. I had no knowledge of this family only told about the event on a visit to the local café where she worked.
Each Friday morning I visited the café for a morning coffee and was introduced to this widow. Immediately something happened, I don’t know if cupid aimed his arrow, I developed a similar feeling toward this widow than I had for my wife forty years before.
Over the next couple of years we fell in love, and I thought I’d never love another woman as I did my wife; however, fate and destiny played their part. My present soulmate grew up on the property where I now live. We have been together for seven years. I never in my wildest dreams ever imagined I would experience two soulmates in one lifetime. I’m pleased for the experience.
Word count: 479
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 40:

A Family Gathering

Once a month over the past couple of years I’ve been visiting my daughter and grandson in Brisbane. One of these visits, I noticed her lifestyle had changed and being a concerned parent wanted the best for them.
On my visit last month, we sat and spoke about her lifestyle. She cried and sobbed; through tears of sobbing admitted she’d had enough and didn’t know how to cope. She wanted to come home to the farm.
My heart went out to her; I cuddled her, wrapped my arms around her shoulders and told her everything would be fine. She stopped sobbing. We shared a moment and if I’d had a magic wand I would’ve waved it to solve her immediate problems. Understandably I couldn’t.
I live at Brooloo a small community of less than one hundred people. Gympie is our nearest town. My daughter is employed by Coles. One thing I must say is once she understands what she needs to do; she does the best she can to accomplish what she wants.
Once a decision was made, she telephoned the manager of Coles Gympie requesting a position at his store. Immediately he accepted her as an employee.
Stage one complete. Stage two began with the transfer of my grandson from Brisbane to Mary Valley State College at Imbil.
Within a week from discussing my proposal of her moving to the farm, she’d been transferred in her job; my grandson was transferred to Mary Valley College.
Where were they going to live? For the short term they’ve taken residence in my home. Through discussions, my daughter decided she wanted to build comfortable accommodation in a shed on my property for them to live. I agreed.
My son and his wife and their two children live opposite on their farm. When my daughter and grandson moved to the farm to live in my home; the family gathered. I immediately knew how important it was they all are together again.
From the beginning I wanted to help my daughter and grandson re-settle into a new environment and to be comfortable; more importantly to get on with their lives.
After listening to my plan; each agreed it should be left to me to finish the task. The whole family will be together again. I can see my late wife smile down from heaven. She always wanted the family together.
Word count: 402
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 41:

Turning Point

From age six years old, I always wanted to become a real life detective. Don’t ask me ‘why’. Each time something strange happened in our neighbourhood instinct overrode my mind – always looking for an answer and question ‘why’.
For instance, at eighteen years old, a friend told me a story of being involved in a traffic accident. Instincts ricocheted through my mind to tell me he was the driver. He denied it. I knew he lied.
Many other similar incidents occurred before I turned twenty-one years old when I fulfilled my lifetime dream of becoming a real life detective. On 28th August 1970 I became a constable with Queensland Police Force.
My first posting, began as a Plain Clothes Constable with the State Licensing Branch. Fortunately my dream did come to fruition; however my duties did not include the role of a true detective. I became an undercover agent whilst the true detective arrested the people from whom I obtained evidence.
Three years later I began my dream as a detective in the criminal investigation branch. Each day I investigated crime and bought the offender to justice. I loved being a detective.
Do you believe it takes a detective five years to earn their stripes? In this time they need to investigate many hideous crimes and constantly give evidence in a court of law.
I remember well my turning point in earning my stripes. Two scoundrels thought they would escape the law after breaking into a golf club. Before they completed their task, they left in a hurry to leave behind vital evidence which proved their presence at the scene of the crime.
Both denied the offence when questioned. Each element of the charge needed to be proven as circumstantial evidence. This is to prove they were at the crime scene and committed the crime without their admission.
This was a turning point in my career to gather sufficient evidence to prove beyond reasonable doubt these two scoundrels committed the offence of break and enter of the golf club.
Proof of soil samples found at the crime scene, matched the dirt on the soles of their shoes. Evidence from witnesses who heard them admit the offence; proved circumstantial evidence they were the persons who broke into the golf club and stole property.
This turning point opened doors I could never have imagined. This gave me an instant pathway in criminal investigation procedures which I never thought possible.
Word count: 412
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