Pat Ritter. Books

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'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 7:

A Lost Cause

Have you ever developed an idea to such a degree to turn white heat almost melting your mind? Napoleon Hill, author of ‘Think and Grow Rich’ explained: Every adversity carries with it the seed of an equivalent or greater benefit. Whilst I’ve never reached the heights of Napoleon Hill, my mind developed an idea to help parents improve their communication with their teenage child.
This idea filled every pore in my body to find a solution. My wife repeated over and over with her comments, ‘a lost cause, flogging a dead horse, who do you think you are to change society.’ These comments drove me onward to find a solution to this difficult problem.
Searching through my history bank to identify why this issue become more than an obsession to solve, I dug deep into my past to recognise reasons why I couldn’t stop until I developed the proper outcome.
I’ll share a secret of my life which only one other person has knowledge this happened. At fourteen years of age, I was no different to any other teenager, or so I thought at the time. At school my buddy wanted me to steal my father’s car to use and ‘run away from home’. After thinking about his proposal, I agreed. My father parked his car at the front of our home with the keys in the ignition. On a night, we arranged I drive to his house, collect him and away we’d go.
Thinking back to this moment I can’t remember why we didn’t carry out our plan. Probably because we chickened out at the final moment. Move forward twenty years. My role at the time to protect children under age seventeen years. An issue, almost impossible to solve, ‘teenage children running away from home’ developed.
Instead of solving this issue, each time I tried to prevent a teenager from running away from home, road blocks appeared. Many times, I thought of giving up. Something forced through my mind to make me search for the answer.
Not only my wife told me this idea was a lost cause, my bosses, workmates, and friends admitted the same. One told me, ‘you’re painting yourself into a corner.’ These words drove me on to find an answer.
After so many failures I almost believed those others who told me my idea to be a lost cause might be right. I never gave up. An answer to my problem just around the corner always drove me onward. My self-belief focused on finding an answer drove me toward my goal. Battling my way through adversity, out-of-the-blue a sign appeared to show me the way to find a solution.
Communication became my mantra. Parents didn’t possess the skills to communicate with their teenage child. My role to listen to each parent, spit out their frustrations of their teenage child’s behaviour, whilst on the other side of the coin protect the teenage child from intimidation or frightened to speak their mind in presence of their parents. During each session between parents and their teenage child each party placed their issues on the table to discuss a solution.
Ninety-nine percent of the issues were parents failed to possess the skills to communicate with their teenage child. After showing each parent improved skills, like the ability to listen, understand these issues, no greater pleasure than to witness both parties hug, cry and kiss one another. Always bought a lump to my throat with emotion to witness this scene.
I’d discovered the holy grail of ‘teenage children running away from home’. This wasn’t a lost cause after all.
Word count: 606
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'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 8:

A Cliff Too Far

During my absence from the writer's group, my partner and I boarded a paddle boat Murray Princess on a Murray River Cruise. Never having done this before excitement built inside my mind taking me to the movies from America of their paddle steamer experiences.
Murray River is the longest river in Australia reaching two thousand five hundred kilometres from the ocean. Wide enough to share many boats. House boats dot the landscape either birthed, moving up or down the river with other traffic. Small hamlets several kilometres apart resemble villages dotted along the landscape. Bird life in abundance of various species.
Our journey commenced at Mannum in Victoria established in the late 1800's. Buildings from the era still stand. My first impression of Murray Princess took my breath away. Total of one hundred and twenty-five passengers with twenty-five crew in attendance. Each crew member excited to invite passengers onboard to enjoy their journey.
Settling into our cabin our journey began. In our minds we had no idea of the experience we were about to undertake. Leaving our moorings at Mannum, the Captain steered the boat north. Our first call of duty for all passengers to assemble in the Dinner Hall to be addressed by staff about safety whilst on board.
Slowly moving along the river our paddle boat made little noise only the swishing of the paddle wheel at the rear end of the boat. Length of the boat measuring a football field. After all safety measures were explained, we relaxed in lounges to partake of refreshments.
Standing on the deck looking across the river huge cliffs reached for the sky leaving our paddle boat appear small compared to these cliffs. After my mouth closed my mind couldn't believe the height of these cliffs only on one side of the river. A cliff too far exploded in my mind. How cliffs be so high on one side of the river whilst on the other flat land. Unbelievable experience.
These cliffs made of limestone, layer upon layer reaching high above the water. Straight upward. Birds nesting burrowed into the limestone. An experience I shall never forget or wonder how this act of nature occurred.
Moving along at a slow pace, like slow boat to china, our minds began to relax taking in the sights and landscape. Nightime fell, our paddle boat moored at the nearest village for the night. This being a four-day tour meant our vessel sailed up river for so far, turned around to return to Mannum.
Over the next couple of days, we leisurely cruised the Murray River stopping along the way, going on bush walks, experiencing a bush bar-b-que, enjoying the company of guests. Our crew were beyond special. Each doing their job professionally.
Returning after our four days to Mannum we disembarked farewelling our crew members who stood at the bottom of the gangplank wishing us farewell also thanking us for our company on board their vessel. A highlight to this wonderful trip, a cliff too far. An experience never forgotten.
Word count: 514
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'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 9:

How Did We End Up Here?

We may discuss the birds and bees, theory. Or to be more specific how did we end up here at Pomona Writers Group. An interesting story. Pomona Writers Group saved myself as well as my writing career so to speak. I've been a member since 2010.
I'd love to share my story of how did we end up here. In October 2010, I read in the local throwaway Mary Valley Voice an invitation for writers to attend an introduction day of Pomona Writers Group to be held at the Pomona Bowling Club. I attended to meet some of the most wonderful people I've ever met in my life.
Before entering I met Pam who like myself wanted to attend this introduction day. Jim, the facilitator of the group at the time met Pam and I at the front door introducing himself with a warm welcome. We entered the dining area of the club to meet members of the Pomona Writers Group.
This moment almost surreal because before attending this meeting my writing career had almost come to an end. After writing and publishing many books, in all honesty I never had a clue what I was going to write next. Jim certainly changed that idea. His introduction gave me a shining light to the end of the tunnel. His words seeped into my mind. An important subject he mentioned – no judgement on any writing. Write whatever comes into your mind. No one will judge you or your writing.
Now Jim mentioned these rules, my mind sparked electricity. Electric currents escaped from my ears. My mind alive with words and motivation never experienced. I'd been a member of another writers group subjected the writer to criticism. I didn't want to personally experience these critiques again. My mind relaxed. I became a member of Pomona Writers Group instantly.
My writing journey turned a corner now I became a member of Pomona Writers Group. Excitement filled my mind to forge ahead with my dream to become an author. A tough road to travel especially a lonely one not many others to depend on along the way. Members of Pomona Writers Group since my beginning have been the best writers I have ever come across.
Our facilitator, Noel, provides us with a topic to write as our homework for the week. From this topic five hundred words or round about the number to express a story from the topic. Writing these number of words is tough to share your writing with all members of the group for following week.
When listening to the other members stories my mind swallows these stories to keep in a safe place. By each member writing about a similar topic one would think most of the stories would be similar. Not likely. Each story is completely different written by each member. Amazing.
I pride myself in writing these five hundred words. I name One Minute Reads which I publish annually as eBooks. This year will mark seven books of these One Minute Reads I've written at Pomona Writers Group recording each story I've written.
Would you believe for an author writing five hundred words for a story is tougher than writing a novel of over fifty thousand words. We write five hundred words weekly for our homework. You may ask: How Did We End Up Here.
Word count: 574
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'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 12:

I'm Packed And Ready

Mother's Day 2015 became a day to experience something in my life I never thought possible. My partner visited her son and daughter-in-law to attend a family celebration of the birth of her first great grandchild. Both grandparents attended. I didn't attend. Midday I received a telephone call from my partner's son to rush home to his mother's home. She'd taken ill.
On entering my partner's home, she gazed into space whilst seated on her favourite chair. I rushed beside her, deeply concerned of her state of health having no knowledge of what occurred. Taking her hand in mine she looked into my eyes. 'Who are you?' She questioned.
'Yes. We've been together for ten years. I'm your partner.' Shock seeped into my soul.
'What happened?' I asked her son. His answer didn't make sense. 'Phone the Ambulance.' I instructed. Immediately he phoned the Ambulance.
After shifting my partner from the chair to her bed an Ambulance Officer arrived. 'We need to take her to Hospital.' His instructions demanded. Collecting clothes, I drove to hospital arriving the same time my partner arrived in the Ambulance. On the journey my mind blank as to why this episode occurred to her.
Concern filled my mind to determine answers to my query. When my partner settled into a cubicle after being examined by a doctor who asked to speak with me. My partner's son accompanied me to an office, so the doctor explains what occurred.
He explained my partner suffered Temporary Global Amnesia (TGA) which occurs to female aged sixty years or older. His explanation made sense. This TGA occurs when the person is stressed causing the patient to lose their memory. 'You can tell her anything you want. In twenty-four hours she will not remember anything.'
My partner was transferred to another hospital for admission. A strange event happened on our arrival. After being settled into a bed in a private room her attending nurse told me my partner had been the fourth patient she had in a month who suffered a similar illness.
Eleven o'clock the following morning on discharge my partner's health returned to normal. She couldn't remember anything from the day before. Having an inquisitive mind, I needed to investigate this illness. Words spoken by the doctor at hospital bussed through my mind. Stress. At first, I couldn't put my finger on the answer, suddenly, I experienced a light bulb moment. I remembered stories my partner told me about her relationship with her daughter-in-law.
Forming my own opinion, I decided to change whatever the circumstances my partner experienced never to have another Temporary Global Amnesia (TGA) episode. To complete this task, I came up with a strategy to escape every six weeks. Take away any stress related issues.
Since making this decision we disappear every six weeks to escape to places we never dreamed possible. Next week marks another six-week getaway adventure to the township of 1770. I'm packed and ready.
Word count: 502
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'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 17:

Nothing Is Not Like It Seems

Being an avid viewer of a great television show, 'The Good Doctor'; for those who came in late the main character is Doctor Shaun Murphy who is a registered surgeon with autism and savant syndrome.
Doctor Shaun Murphy paces his way through life where nothing is not like it seems. His mind superior to anyone else including his chief surgeon. His direct communication with others doesn't endure him to make friends easily. Apart from his good friend Doctor Aaron Glassman who is the President of the hospital, his co-worker Doctor Claire Browne, including his neighbour, Lea he finds making friends difficult.
Nothing is not like it seems springs out of my mind when viewing this programme. Most clever ingenuity to the writers and producers to 'put something out into television land' to endure audiences from across the world. Since 'The Good Doctor' commenced I have viewed each episode. Final episode for season will leave my mind reflect on nothing is not like it seems.
Two Australian television programmes hold my interest. 'Doctor Doctor' plus 'A Secret Daughter'. Both these programmes don't outweigh 'Home and Away' which I am an avid viewer nightly. Apart from sport, nothing else I need to keep my interest. Since 1988 the television programme 'Home and Away' commenced I've seen almost each episode.
My reason for being so obsessed with this programme is because of my children. At the time 'Home and Away' joined us in our loungeroom my children were teenagers. Being an astute father, I wanted to join my teenage children to keep an eye on what they viewed. Nothing is not like it seems. Since this time, I've viewed each episode of 'Home and Away'.
My teenage children have grown to adults; have their own teenage children. We keep abreast of the programme by discussing happenings in the show whilst enjoying one another's company on a Saturday morning at morning tea time. They still can't understand how after so many years we as a family can sit down to discuss the happenings of 'Home and Away'. Nothing is not like it seems.
What did we do before television? Listen to the radio or wireless. I remember my grade 7 school teacher telling us when television entered our loungeroom, 'this will be the failing of our society'. How true her words should reflect on society since those years in grade 7. Nothing is not like it seems.
Perhaps if my teacher in grade 7 should still be alive, what would her words to us students be now in the present. Nothing is not like it seems, she may say. Particularly iPhone, computers, tablets, iPad with other devises. Her head would explode with how these devises have failed our society.
Once we've become accustomed with these latest gadgets of society, yes, I agree with my school teacher in grade 7, society has failed. On the other hand, how, technology has helped society to fail. Almost everyone has a mobile phone of some type. Have a look about when you visit your local coffee shop how many customers have their mobile phone in front of them, pressing buttons, listening to music, reading. Nothing is not like it seems.
Word count: 541
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'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 18:

Now For Something Completely Different

My first grandchild born in 1999 with three more born to this present day. My role as a grandparent completely threw my way of parenting. Often other grandparents tell their story of being able to ‘hand the child’ back to their parents after they did their duty.
Being present shortly after the birth of my first grandchild my sub-conscious mind told me to stand back, leave room for the parents to take control. This sense of control leaving me with reservations of ‘not being wanted’ which was not the case. This moment I learned an invaluable lesson to ‘let go’, not to take control. When my other grandchildren arrived by the stork, I’d learnt to stand back, allow the parents to take the spot light.
Now for something completely different. My second grandchild is five years old. Grade one at the local school. My son tells him to ‘go to Poppy to do his homework’. Taylor arrives on my doorstep with his homework, ‘Dad says you will help me with my homework.’ With his words echoing through my mind I nod my head pointing for him to take a seat at the table. After opening his homework book, he points out numbers he needs to write beside after understanding which word each number represents.
Immediately, my mind races back to when I am Taylor’s age. My grandmother seated beside me showing how to break words into syllables. Eighteen is the first word he needed to recognize. I take the pencil from his hand, drew a line after eight, explain how the word is broken into two with the letters spelling eight, then teen to make eighteen. He has no idea how to understand what I did.
That didn’t work, I reminded myself silently. Let’s try another way. I say to Taylor at the same time pointing my finger to each letter, ‘read each letter as I point to them.’ Taylor repeats each letter finishing with the correct number. ‘Good boy.’ I finished. I placed my finger over the word and number, ‘repeat spelling the number with the number.’ I requested.
Shaking his head, ‘I can’t Poppy.’
‘Okay. We’ll try something else.’ I took away my finger to display the letting and number. ‘Repeat the letters and number.’ I asked him. Looking at the lettering he repeated the letters, instead of identifying the letter ‘i’ he replaced with ‘l’.
‘How do you identify the letter ‘i’?’ I ask.
Drawing with his finger in the air, he said, ‘with a stroke and dot on top.’
‘How do you draw the letter ‘l’?’
He instantly drew with his hand the letter ‘l’.
‘Why do you confuse the letter ‘i’ with the letter ‘l’?’ I asked.
‘I can’t Poppy.’ His answer solemn.
‘Taylor, to learn anything you need to focus on what you are doing.’ I explained.
Before he left to go home he repeated the spelling of ‘eighteen’ with the number 18 plus all the other numbers on his homework sheet.
Now for something completely different. Each time I ask Taylor to spell ‘eighteen’ which he fails to do. He doesn’t visit as often now.
Word count: 531
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'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 20:
Post Card From My Father
Surviving On Little
We all should love our parents. I loved my mother with all my heart and soul until she passed away at forty-five years old. Her many memories remain with me. My father lives in a Nursing Home; ninety-one years old. I've never received a post card from my father. Too often I remember his whining of surviving on little.
Thinking back on his life. Born in 1926, four years before the Great Depression, I suppose his mind taught him to survive on little. This survival never stopped him drinking alcohol nor smoking cigarettes. In those times both were common in society as a coping mechanism.
At the time of my father's birth, his twin sister as well. I remember too well both celebrating their seventieth birthday at my sister's home. My father's twin sister travelled from America to help celebrate their birthdays. Standing nearby when my aunt entered the room, my father had no idea his twin sister travelled to Australia to help celebrate their birthdays. A true surprise. This memory will remain with me forever.
Memories of growing up looking upon my father as my saviour in life certainly took many twists and turns. Any wonder he never sent me a postcard. I do remember when I turned sixteen years old my father left Queensland to move to New South Wales. Now and then I received letters from my father ending with the words Your Loving Father. Never any postcards.
From the time we're born until six years old, we learn. Learned to be loved, nurtured or neglected. Rest of our life, we experience. Looking back to this period, I held my father high upon a pedestal. My hero. Most important person in my life. From six years old until thirteen years old we experience our parent’s behaviours. Studying our parent's behaviour during this time to witness their role played as a parent.
In my case all I needed from my father for him to recognise me as his son; also, those most important words 'I Love You: I'm Proud Of You'. My father never uttered these words. Without these words my father and I drifted apart particularly as I grew into adulthood. His whining about surviving on little, together with self-pity drove me away from anything to do with him.
Surviving through the course of alcoholism to gain a life for myself I became the luckiest person alive to meet the love of my life. For the first five years I never realised how lucky I became to marry an angel. During these years I copied everything I witnessed from my father's habits, drinking, I didn't smoke; fell into bouts of self-pity to survive on little.
On 13th January 1977 my wife exploded these words, 'if you come home drunk tonight. I won't be here. I'm leaving and taking the children.' She was fair dinkum.
If my mother said these powerful words to my father during my growing up, times may have been different. Instantly, without thought I said to my wife, 'I PROMISE YOU I WILL NEVER DRINK ALCOHOL AGAIN!' I've never touched a drop of alcohol since I made this pledge to my wife forty years ago.
In many ways I'm pleased I didn't receive any postcard from my father who survived on little.
Word count: 561
IMPORTANT NOTICE: I'LL BE ABSENT ON HOLIDAYS UNTIL 4TH APRIL 2018. HAPPY EASTER TO ALL MEMBERS. CATCH UP WITH YOU ALL ON MY RETURN. THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT. MUCH APPRECIATED.
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'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 21:

Santa Claus

Growing up in a country town in Queensland, each Christmas Eve Santa Claus visited to leave a present under the Christmas Tree. On my tenth birthday Santa left me a box brownie camera. I remember this camera. I snapped many photographs, unfortunately in the day and age of box brownie cameras they only took twelve photographs at a time before the film finished. Then the cost of developing these photos became such a cost my interest in the box brownie camera stopped.
After this period for many years Santa Claus left me handkerchiefs. Christmas time in our home became a joyful time for us children to enjoy especially playing with other children. Family gathered at our home over Christmas. I remember my grandmother, mother, aunts all working together to prepare Christmas Dinner, bake puddings with threepences in especially. At the time no, better place to be than around the Christmas Dinner table enjoying turkey, ham, plus all the trimmings.
Years went by to discover my own family, wife and two children enjoyed Christmas with our family. Santa Claus delivered presents to everyone. To my memory no presents were addressed coming from Santa Claus, yet he delivered them each Christmas Eve ready for first break of day on Christmas Day. A most joyful time.
Honestly, I have no idea how many years Santa Claus has been delivering presents to children across the world from the North Pole. We celebrate the birth of Jesus on Christmas Day. Each may have started the same year. I have no idea. I do realise each year children are thrilled to wake on Christmas morning to find under their Christmas tree a present delivered by Santa Claus.
Joy of Christmas celebrations have exploded into a commercial business with advertising on television, radio, newspapers exploiting people to purchase goods. Act of giving has diminished. Santa Claus on the other hand freely delivers presents to all children across the world with his trusted Reindeers. Joy of giving to another rather than taking is the deepest message from Santa Claus each Christmas.
The man wearing a red suit with a long white beard spreads his joy to children and adults during the festive season asking each child whether they've been naughty or nice. Either way the child receives the pleasure of a present from Santa Claus each Christmas morning. I remember one year Santa Claus left me a power tool under the tree. My wife claimed to have purchased the power tool for Santa Claus to leave under the tree. At the time I couldn't believe how my wife would've purchased such a power tool for me to use. A clear message of wanting me to do something. Without Santa Claus in our lives who would leave presents under the Christmas Tree each year to our joy and the joy of our children and grandchildren.
May Santa Claus go on forever.
Word count: 487
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'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 24:

Shopping Soothes The Soul

My friend Di loves shopping especially for shoes. Why shoes? Have no idea. Her spare bedroom fully stocked with shoes and handbags. 'Shopping soothes the soul', Di always told me when I inquired why she shopped so much, particularly purchasing shoes and handbags.
Di lives a fast pace through life. Once we travelled with her to Norfolk Island on vacation. Only one shop displayed shoes and handbags. Before leaving each of us needed to place Di's purchases into our travelling bags to carry home. 'Shopping soothes the soul' she mentioned more than once when asked why she purchased so many shoes and handbags. Di's soul must've be really soothed especially after shopping for so many shoes and handbags.
I must possess the soul of the devil when shopping. I hate shopping. Nothing worse to experience. I don't have a shopping gene in my body. I remember when being a teenager my mother purchased a shirt, shorts outfit for me. She selected the items. At the time warmth past through my body. I loved those clothes my mother purchased.
Alas, when the time came for me to purchase my own clothing, something crazy happened in my mind. I couldn't decide what to purchase. Possibly because from the item I choose to the time I paid the cashier. I changed my mind. I only purchased the necessary clothing to wear. Shopping certainly never soothed my soul.
My wife purchased my clothing which I must admit soothed my soul because I didn't need to make the decision. Do you realise I still have clothes hanging in my wardrobe dating back thirty years? These clothes are as good as the day my wife purchased them for me. Now when I want to purchase clothing for myself I walk into Lowes Menswear Store, select what I want; more particularly, what my partner selects for me to wear and purchase the items.
In retirement I don't need to change my clothes often as I do my underwear. Track suits last many years whilst shorts and tee shirts last longer. Why should I go shopping to soothe my soul? I can do many other things in my life to soothe my soul. Like what? You may ask.
I love to travel particularly to places I've never visited before. Mystery tours have soothed my soul. To travel on a mystery tour is mysterious. Only a month ago we went on a mystery tour which took us to Cairns in North Queensland, then to the Gulf where we stayed a couple of days at a resort in the middle of nowhere. This certainly soothed my soul.
Each to their own you may say. I agree. If Di wants to purchase shoes and handbags to fulfil her shopping soothes her soul, then I must admit to shopping for mystery tours to soothe my soul.
Word count: 481
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'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 25:

Straight From The Horse’s Mouth

'Straight from the horse's mouth, mate. I'm telling you. Have a couple of bob each way.' These words raised in my memory when at fifteen years old walking home after school beside thoroughbred racing stables in Deagon where I lived at the time.
Looking back to this memory over half a century ago if I acted each time to the number of people telling me their information 'straight from the horse's mouth' I'd be a millionaire twenty times over. Little did I realise at the time these young apprentice jockeys giving me information understood what they spoke about.
Some of these apprentice jockeys went on to become 'Kings Of The Turf'. How would a fifteen-year-old youth consider a crystal ball for the future? Throughout my life I followed these young apprentice jockeys throughout their racing career to reach the heights of winning all the major races in Australia. How fortunate am I to have connected with these 'Kings Of The Turf’?
Each afternoon I stopped to speak with these apprentice jockeys. Mick Ditman. His complaint: age and weight had allowed him to ride in races nor trials. Another apprentice jockey, Len Cook had a similar complaint. Each similar age to myself. These two apprentice jockeys went on to become Australian's finest 'Kings Of The Turf.'
Len Hill another apprentice jockey I often spoke with on my journey home from school. Each time these words 'straight from the horse's mouth' echoed in my mind, if at the time this information about the horses they tipped, I'd become a full-time punter. Eventually all three jockeys became Australian finest horsemen winning major races throughout the country and city.
Thoroughbred Racing in Australia is 'Sport of Kings'. Owners, trainers, jockeys are treated like royalty particularly when Melbourne Cup is run first Tuesday in November each year. Wagering on this race alone goes into billions of dollars. Each punter hoping their horse will win to provide a dividend. My imagination goes wild at the number of times a punter repeats these words, 'straight from the horse's mouth' to induce a wager.
After a lifetime of wagering on horses; in my latter years I don't have a wager. In fact, my knowledge of the name of the horses in the Melbourne Cup, I hadn't a clue little wonder having a wager.
In high school I ran a Melbourne Cup sweep. The year Bart Cummings won his first Melbourne Cup. Some years later I had the good fortune to meet the 'King Of Melbourne Cups' when I investigated a complaint received from the man himself. Roy Higgins sat beside him. His motor vehicle had been stolen. My off-sider and I captured the offender, returned the keys to the great man himself. His words, 'straight from the horse’s mouth. Have a couple of dollars on my horse tomorrow in the cup.' His horse won the Doomben Cup with Roy Higgins riding.
Word count: 496
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