Pat Ritter. Books

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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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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 42:

And So It Came To Pass

A friend and I have taken the same numbers for Saturday night lotto since 1982. Over thirty years. To date a prize greater than 4th division hasn’t been won. My friend tells me eventually we will win as long as we don’t give up our dream.
Winning lotto is a dream I’ve had since the game commenced. Dreams of seeing my numbers fall into the tube. Winning lotto would make a difference to my life. Money is important in everyday living. I suspect if my numbers did fall into the tube, the result would be exciting even if the amount wasn’t as much as I desired.
Many times, almost daily, I see my numbers on a Saturday lotto draw fall into the tube. If they did fall, I would accept the result whatever may be the consequences and visualise what I would do with the prizemoney.
Naturally my friend would receive half. With the remainder here is a formula. On numbers similar to the ones my friend and I take, our prize may be $550,000.00; which equates to an 8th of the total $4,000,000.00 from the pool. My share would be $275,000.00 which is nothing to scoff at.
Divided amongst my children and partner; myself gaining the lion’s share of the money, I would end up with $125,000.00 to do with as I wish.
First, I would carry out repairs and renovations to my home and property – build a rear patio; improved roadway; fencing; water connections and painting. After serious consideration I may upgrade my motor vehicle. If I need to get rid of a bit of cash then so be it.
Placing the law of averages in their rightful place, together with Murphy’s Law; whatever will happen – will happen; our numbers could fall in any Saturday draw of lotto. The longer we take these same numbers; gives us a better chance of winning.
It’s exciting to think of what may happen? We have no control of the outcome, but you’ve got to be in it to win it. And so it came to pass I continue to take lotto to fulfil my dream of seeing my numbers fall down the tube.
When this event happens, I must share with you how happy I would be and more important to share my winnings with my friend and family members. In the meantime I will never give up hope of winning.
I’m a good person and I feel luck will be with me to win Saturday night lotto at sometime in the future.
Word count: 431
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 43:

Déjà Vu

At ten years old, my first memory of visiting Charleville, a country town seven hundred and fifty-eight kilometres west from Brisbane, seeing a particular type of scrub which grew in small bushes across the landscape; mixed with red coloured soil similar to a desert; flat land as far as the eye could see. My grandparents lived in the town at the time.
On arriving at Charleville by train, my grandparents met me at the railway station. In those times steam engine puffed smoke sending fragments of coal into the carriages. Most passengers, including myself endured blackness around their eyes and mouth.
As I stepped from the carriage onto the platform, a sense of déjà vu encompassed by mind – knowing I’d been on the platform before. This mind set left me when I noticed my grandparents approach and gave me a warm welcome.
A decade later I returned to Charleville, again by train however this time a more modern one since the bygone days of steam. When I stepped from the train and stood on the platform, suddenly my mind returned to a different period to experience I’d been here before.
This feeling wasn’t anything to do with my previous visit; this visit marked a time when the Railway Station was built in 1888. A certain smell devoured my senses providing a strange odour which I never before experienced.
This is difficult to describe, only I’d sensed a similar odour on this particular platform previously and it wasn’t a decade ago. I’d never smelt this odour anywhere else until this time and place. Visions flashed through my mind of knowing I stood in this exact spot before.
I’m not a sceptic; I do admit at times thinking I have lived on earth in some fashion or another. Perhaps if truth be known, I probably lived in 1888 and had something to do with the building of the Charleville Railway Station? I don’t know.
One thing is for certain, each time I step onto the platform at Charleville Train Station; and I’ve done it many times since I was ten years old, my mind flashes a sense of déjà vu. I’ve visited this place before but have no idea when or why?
Word count: 375
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 44:

The Antique Vase

Joseph Banks, the botanist, sailed from his motherland with Captain Cook on the ‘Endeavour’ to discover Australia in 1770. Before departing, his father said presenting Joseph with an antique vase, ‘this has been in our family for generation; keep it to hold a specimen’.
When he boarded the ‘Endeavour’ he stored the vase in a safe place to not fracture or break. To hold such a prize presented from his father overwhelmed his feelings of love and devotion.
On arrival at Botany Bay he discovered various specimens of vegetation, caused Joseph to select one particular specimen to place in the antique vase. This selection he named ‘mulga’, an aboriginal name, taken from the scent of the bush surrounding the area.
On his return to his quarters, he placed a branch of ‘mulga’ in the antique vase. His chest swelled with pride and devotion to his family for presenting him with a family treasure.
On their return to the motherland Joseph couldn’t wait to show his father the antique vase; moreso, the branch of ‘mulga’ tree. His father spoke how proud of his son’s discovery.
Joseph Banks continued on other expeditions, not with Captain Cook but in charge of his own ship.
In early 1800 the ship Banks Captained sunk in the middle of the Indian Ocean along with the antique vase and ‘mulga’ branch from Australia; this being the last resting place of the antique vase.
For another century this antique vase sat at the bottom of the Indian Ocean until discovered by a party of men searching for hidden treasure. The antique vase was finally returned to England and eventually to the Banks family.
In 1999 whilst attending a wake for my late mother-in-law, her brother said to me, ‘you are now the rightful owner of the antique vase.’ My look was one of astonishment.
‘What antique vase?’ I asked. His story of how the antique vase had been in the family before the discovery of Australia, together being on the bottom of the Indian Ocean for a century until returned to the family, was a story of amazement and intrigue.
This antique vase now sits gathering dust on top of a cupboard in my home. If only the antique vase could talk, imagine what a story it could tell.
Word count: 387.
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 45:

All’s Well That Ends Well

On reflection, this year’s events; brings to mind one particular problem I’m pleased to say I overcame. In January I experienced a traffic accident; the first in more than forty-five years.
I stopped to wait for another vehicle to make a right hand turn, my vehicle stationary behind this vehicle. Something told me to look in the rear-a-vision mirror; to my horror another motor vehicle approached at a fast speed.
In my imagination, this vehicle either needed to swerve off the road, in a sudden drop on the side of the roadway or crash into the rear of mine. What a strange feeling to know the vehicle within a few second will smash into the rear of your vehicle.
The other vehicle crashed into the rear of my vehicle caused my vehicle to smash into the vehicle in front. On collision with the other vehicle, my vehicle sandwiched. The driver’s seat, slid forward with the rear section collapsing. I was uninjured. Lucky my vehicle had electric seats.
I was more concerned about the driver of the vehicle which crashed into the rear of my vehicle. He appeared uninjured but shocked. His words carried, ‘I’m sorry’ and he started to cry.
My vehicle finished a write-off. I had the vehicle comprehensively insured.
What a surprise I received. Yes, the insurance company did appraise my vehicle. Initially they presented me with a pay-out figure which to me an insult. I immediately gathered sufficient evidence to prove their figures wrong.
After a couple of months of telephone calls; arguing over payments; extra cost of expenses, eventually they paid the amount which I considered was a fair value for my vehicle.
What did I do about another motor vehicle? By chance I visited the wrecking yard where my previous vehicle was housed and saw a vehicle advertised for sale. This was the exact vehicle I needed and I purchased it without going over the budget I’d set to buy another vehicle.
Although I’d experienced a fight on my hand with the insurance company over the true value of my wrote-off vehicle, in the end everything turned out that all’s well that end well. I’m now a happy little vegemite. An important message I learned ‘to never give up’
Word count: 382
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 46:

Fools Rush In

Fools rush in – I relate to this title. Many a time through my life, I’ve rushed into events because I failed of think of the consequences, only to find when I was half way through suddenly things didn’t turn out the exact way I’d portrayed them. Either I ended up with egg on my face or continued to finish what I started with little success.
Yes – I’m over sixty years of age; and probably getting to the point of life when I’m old and grumpy. I don’t want to become grumpy, however, have no choice in slowing down the age barrier.
In essence, I’m a gambler. I believe at the time I rush into anything luck is on my side. My personal belief is ‘whatever I protract will happen the way I want it to be’. And this is why I like the title – ‘Fools Rush In’. This shows my way of doing things.
Memory takes me back to ‘Elvis Presley Special’ when he sang amongst other songs ‘Fools Rush In’. His voice alone portrayed the American dream of a youth raised from lower class to become ‘King of Rock & Roll’.
Further back than I care to remember Elvis’s songs were always on the airways from humble ballads to extreme rock & roll. Elvis beyond doubt was the ‘King of Rock & Roll’ and still retains the title to be remembered forever.
Least of all, in his day, one could understand the songs together with his sweet voice transmitted a vibe through ones body to either smile or dance to the tune.
Today’s music, I’m afraid to admit, not only do I not understand the words of each song nor understand the music. I’m afraid I heard too much of ‘Elvis’ music in my youth to think otherwise.
Perhaps I am becoming old and grumpy and not realise what is happening. To retain my sanity all I need to do is to reflect on my past and visualise Elvis standing playing his guitar wearing the black leather jump suit with his voice singing ‘Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear To Tread’ and my world is whole.
Word count:362
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IMPORTANT NOTICE: THIS IS THE FINAL STORY. NEW BOOK TOMORROW.

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'His Life Worth Living' - Page 1:

AUTHORS NOTE

Every adversity carries with it the seed of an equivalent or greater benefit.
≈ Napoleon Hill ≈

Courage, determination, independence are some of the words to describe George Burtenshaw. His passing, aged one hundred and two years and a half truly showed inspiration with such self-determination, willpower and a ‘what he wanted attitude’ combined with a deep love for his huge family.
Born in 1911 at Newport Wales at seven years old his home destroyed by bombs at the close of World War 1. His family taken. He with his sister Lou taken to a Children's Home. Alone with only his sister, he had no knowledge where his brothers and parents were. His life in a Children's Home proceeded until his fifteenth birthday when he applied through Church of England, Council of Empire Settlement to go to Canada. Instead he ended up in Australia.
His arrival in Australia with four shillings to begin a new life, a job with a place to live in a new country and close to the town Gympie. His work ethics proved how important his life became. Aged eighteen years old, beginning of the Great Depression, he travelled by train to Rockhampton to seek work. Unable to find work he purchased a bicycle for seven shillings and sixpence leaving him little money. Four days riding along the beach, sleeping under a sheet of canvas returned to Kia Ora to be welcomed.
George worked for his old boss when a family arrived to share farm the property. Must had been 'love at first sight' because this family's daughter Eva caught George's eye. Eva later became his wife and they celebrated their sixty-fifth wedding anniversary before she sadly passed aged ninety-six years old.
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'His Life Worth Living' - Page 2:

Having worked his apprecenticeship at a dairy farm he purchased a motor cycle journeyed west to find work. By 1942 World War 11 exploded across the globe. George enlisted. Before going to war he married Eva. Twelve months after leaving Australian shores for Mayala Japanese invaded Singapore. He became a Prisoner-of-War and incarcerated in Changi Prison until World War 11 ended.
He recorded a daily record in a series of war diaries. If his captors found these diaries he would have been decapitated. He concealed them in plastic and safe from the enemy. When reading this portion of the book one cannot help but wonder at the suffering and atrocities Prisoners-of-War suffered at the hands of their enemy.
After such an horrific time in his life, he returned to Australia. Eva nursed him back to health. George went on to live a life worth living.
At 10am on Thursday 13 September 2007 George attended a DEDICATION OF COMMEMORATIVE PLAQUE to recognise the sacrifice and service of the members of 2/10th Australian Field Regiment 8th Division, Australian Imperial Force conducted at the Australian War Memorial, Canberra when at last he was recognised for his time as a Prisoner Of War.
George has certainly proven the words spoken by Napoleon Hill - Every adversity carries with it the seed of an equivalent or greater benefit. This is truly an inspirational story of survival mixed with self-determination with his life worth living.


Pat Ritter
Author
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'His Life Worth Living' - Page 3:

Chapter 1

Knowledge is proud that he knows so much
Wisdom is humble because he knows no more
Eight in the family, two sisters and five brothers. I might say here, we were more than poor: ‘poor as church mice’. I don’t remember going hungry. In hindsight, I must say I don’t remember more than once when I sat around the table for a meal, and on this occasion the only time seeing my father. I have little or no memory of him. Only person close, my sister Lou, who I partly grew up with.
I was born in Newport in Wales on 23rd December 1911. I do remember during the war years 1914-1918 (WW1), although I was only a child. I must have been either six or seven years old. Every hall in the town was full to over flowing with war wounded. Hundreds of wounded people crowded the hall waiting for a handout of bread and jam. On another occasion after the war was over, the victory parade going down the main road, this huge army truck rumbled down, thundering down towards us, my mother picked me up in her arms to nurse me. Such small things I remember.
I don’t remember, aged probably about seven years old. I do remember a Saturday morning. We were coming from the pictures. Little boys were allowed in free if they behaved themselves and sat in the front on the canvas seats or on the floor. Number 3 James Building was empty. That was where I lived. I asked where everyone was and told they were taken. Taken. Later I was taken to a Children’s Home with my sister Lou and other kids. I must have been cheeky because I remember someone saying, give him a swipe. My brothers were taken to another home outside of Newport. My Home was opposite the Workhouse complete with buildings housing the poor, a huge laundry and infirmary.
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