Pat Ritter. Books

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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 28:

Talking To Strangers

Being a retired police officer; one of the many roles, was to instil into a child’s mind the danger of talking to strangers. Unfortunately there are predators out there in our society who prey on children.
I remember a time when I was Officer-in-Charge of Juvenile Aid Bureau at Petrie in Brisbane. Regularly our patrols took us to parks to detect these types of people.
In the early eighties a Superintendent from Victorian Police travelled to Queensland to speak with thousands of children at schools about ‘stranger danger’.
She’d created a successful programme; it expanded nation wide. When explained, it was quite simple.
She spoke of a child’s feelings. If a stranger approached the child, if the child felt an ache in their stomach, this indicated the child felt something was not right and could be in danger.
Each child was required to know a person they could immediately contact if they felt this pain. She explained the closest person the child would contact was either one of their parents, followed by a school teacher; a policeman or another person they trusted.
A child’s palm of their hand was displayed on the board for the child to write the name of each person. Starting with the index finger; this person should be their mother; next finger should be their father and so forth until the child knew who to contact when this feeling of danger was felt by them in their stomach.
If they couldn’t find the first person, they should continue to find the next person on their list until they found someone they could trust to tell about the stranger.
It sounded too simple to be effective; however, each pupil at each school in my region was taught this method of ‘stranger danger’. Posters and brochures were displayed and provided to each pupil displaying telephone numbers; and contacts of trusted people.
Among the many programmes delivered at schools for pupils to be aware of ‘stranger danger’; until the disappearance of Daniel Morecombe, I now think the message is being delivered in a way of true grit displayed by Daniel’s parents who travel to each school in Queensland to spread their word on child safety.
I commend their resilience and courage to protect each child in the State by delivering their message of hope and safety so no other parent would go through what they have experienced.
Word count: 404
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 29:

If Music Is The Food Of Love – Play On

Life as a teenager was enjoyable. Saturday nights with my friends we attended a dance at Sandgate Town Hall which I was on familiar ground.
Having attended Sandgate High School; on many occasions Sandgate Town Hall was used by the school for theatre plays; meetings and any other activity the school wanted to perform. These Saturday night dances bought back happy memories of my days attending high school.
This period was highlighted by hearing ‘The Beatles’ music play on the radio, record player, if one was fortunate enough to have one, or to sing along to the lyrics of their songs. If there was a heaven, I think perhaps, I could have been there.
One night at a dance, an angel in disguise arrived. She was seated on a long seat waiting to be asked to dance. You see in those times it was gentlemanly when you wanted to dance to walk up to your dance partner and ask ‘if they wanted to dance’. When she accepted, I thought I was floating on cloud nine.
Because of my adolescent mind – I think I fell instantly in love with this angel. I now acknowledge from personal experience, this could have been puppy love, for me it was the real thing at the time.
We danced to the music of the Beatles and by the end of the night swore to one another we would see each other again. Actually, I never ever wanted her out of my sight to tell the truth.
After I received my next weekly pay I purchased a record player and two Beatle’s records, played them over and over until the needle on the record player was almost worn out. Memories of the night returned with my angel and each word sang by John, Paul, Ringo or George resonated to imagines of my angel and I dancing to their music.
Alas, all good things had to come to an end. My angel for the time being didn’t want to be serious about our relationship and only wanted to be ‘friends’. My mind shattered by this news, I returned to the music of ‘The Beatles’ and if music is the food of love – play on.
Word count: 379
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 30:

Where Am I

Actually I have no idea where I am. Over the past week my mind has been lost, in a haze. I don’t remember anything of my life, possibly only rising from bed each morning, wondering about the house and finally at night retiring to bed.
Over this past week I dropped off into a world of unknown. Thoughts emerged as grey headed monsters; creating illusions of living apart from my own body. I had no control over my thoughts or images in my mind.
Slowly my temperature burned against my forehead, coughing overtook my chest with each cough I felt another bone shatter. Muscles throughout my body contracted and pained to such a degree I wanted to leave this earth and take whatever was due for the bad deeds I’d done through my life.
Thursday night was normally fish and chip night. My mouth turned away a morsel of fish and I headed to bed for solace; peace and relief. After fourteen hours of continuous sleep, weird dreams, I awoke to the sun beaming through the window.
Without eating breakfast I retired back to bed. I slept for another four hours. Dreadful dreams overtook my mind – I couldn’t figure out reality from fiction. I had no control.
A voice shattered these dreams when I was asked to ‘get out of bed’ and sit on the veranda to soak up some vitamin ‘S’ for sun.
Sipping a cup-of-tea and chewing a biscuit made a small relief; my throat roared with tenderness as I tried to overcome the harsh reality, there was something wrong.
I showered and shaved, replaced the soaked clothes I wore with clean fresh attire. My mind continued in a fog unable to recognize the world I once lived. Where am I – swept through my mind? Somehow, I couldn’t remember.
Weakened by the ordeal I returned to bed. There I stayed for the following twenty-four hours. My mind was far too weak to watch my usual night programme ‘Home and Away’. I couldn’t have cared what happened to the characters which I’d religiously watched since it started in 1988.
Finally on the seventh day began the first day my mind became clearer and I was able to ‘get about’ to discover where I was. I discovered I was at home and over the past week had suffered a dose of influenza.
Word count: 398
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 31:

The Stalker

Slowly I crept into bed, under the sheet, pulled a blanket over my shoulders and lay my head on the pillow. My body felt better than it had felt over the past week.
Scientific evidence told me influenza only took ten days to clear from your body. The cycle of no more aches and pains; no more sneezing; coughing or feeling light headed. Keep warm and drink plenty of fluids.
I was feeling much better than I was a week previously, when honestly I thought these were the final days I had on earth. Each day I felt much better than the day before and moved around more freely.
Suddenly without warning, the stalker appeared from no where. Coughing started again, this time with less intensity than a week before, my nose started to run again, my chest thought it was plugged with phlegm and with each breath, thought it could’ve been my last.
I didn’t want to go through the trauma I went through the previous week with my head swelled to almost bursting. The stalker was closing in on me and if I wasn’t careful he’d devour the essence of my body once more.
Fighting with all of my might, I drank glass after glass of water, to keep the stalker away from my inner body. I remained home in my own sanctuary of hidden space, not allowing the stalker to penetrate the inner senses of my being.
In my fight to overcome influenza the previous week I succumbed to overdosing on medication. This drove my mind into ruptures of imagination seeing monsters and other unearthly creatures. This time I was going to stand and fight the stalker, not allow him to enter my inner body to cause havoc as he’d done a week before.
Clothing myself in warm attire, relaxing sitting in the sun, each thought; to fight off the stalker so he couldn’t enter those channels of my body to cause influenza.
Friday it appeared I’d fought off this evil creature and by Saturday I felt confident. The stalker had had enough of me and went on his merry way to some unsuspecting human being to force himself onto that person. As long as he kept away from me – that was the important thing.
Word count: 383
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 33:

ue Sera Sera

My mother was a wonderful human being. I loved her dearly. She left us too early in our life to truly understand how gifted and loving individual she was.
I remember in my teens; for some unknown reason after I dated a girl, who I thought to be special; after three months for one reason or another, we broke up.
Each time I was heartbroken and honestly thought there was something wrong with me. My mother came to the rescue each time.
Her words still echo in my mind, ‘you’ll know when the right one comes along.’
Throughout my teenage years my mates meet and married their sweethearts, however, after a couple of years, they divorced. I suppose the words my mother told me were true, ‘I would know when the right one came along.’
A week before my twenty-third birthday my mother passed away. I grieved her loss. I don’t know if she was looking down from heaven to arrange a meeting with my future bride to be.
A friend introduced us and from the moment I saw her; my mother’s words rang in my ears, ‘you’ll know when the right one comes along.’
I don’t know if it was chemistry between us or my mother could see from heaven we should be together. She also said, ‘what will be – will be.’
Within ten months we married and were married for thirty-one years until her to cancer.
If it wasn’t enough to lose the love of my life; after a couple of years I was fortunate enough to find another person who came into my life. We have been together for seven years and love each day.
I wonder what my mother would say. Obviously ‘what will be - will be, the future’s not ours to see, Que sera sera, what will be – will be?’
Word count: 312
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 34:

If Ever I Saw Your
Face

A couple of years ago I went on a bus tour for a Christmas break. Instead of celebrating Christmas at home I decided to join people my age to celebrate it on tour.
A policy of the bus driver was, daily, instead of being seated next to the same person; you moved a seat to the rear of the bus and acquaint yourself with another passenger.
Whilst this new arrangement was suitable for some of the passengers; others didn’t enjoy the time spent with a stranger for the length of the day’s journey.
I, for one, didn’t enjoy my time with a female passenger who couldn’t help but inform me of her many trips around the world (at the last count she’d circumnavigated the globe fifty times).
To abstain from becoming frustrated with her stories of adventure and different cities she’d visited, she asked me ‘what did I do and where I lived’. This was my opportunity to explain my life in a nutshell.
At home we have ‘miniature horses’, I explained. She didn’t understand the expression, ‘miniature horses’. I went on to explain these unique horses grow to thirty-four inches in height; are a horse but smaller in size; similar shape and eats grass the same as a larger horse.
By her expression, I don’t think she believed my story and asked where we kept these horses. This was my opportunity to exploit her wise exploits of her global trips. Do one better, I thought.
‘We keep them in the house.’ I explained. ‘Each has their own small lounge chairs to sit in when they watch television. A sack is tied around their tales to catch any deposits which they may leave.’ I kept a straight face while explaining to her about her query.
Little did I realise other passengers in the bus were ears-dropping and looked around to where we were seated. This lady’s mouth opened and I continued to tell her they sat at the kitchen table when we have our meals.
By this stage many more of the passengers began to cock their ears to hear more information about these miniature horses. It was time to stop for a break.
‘If you don’t believe me, ask the driver. He’s been to my place and seen them.’ I informed her.
When we stopped I casually pulled the driver aside before this lady had time to speak with him and told him the story of the miniature horses.
By the time we returned to our seat, the lady leaned over to say, ‘I believe you. The driver backed up your story and told me you knit socks to put on their feet.’ I smiled and kept quite for the remainder of the journey.
If I ever see her face again it wouldn’t be too soon.
Word count: 476
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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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