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Pat Ritter. Books


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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sun Mar 25, 2018 10:50 pm

'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 19:

Open Day

Many memorable events happen in our lifetime. One event stood out more than most of the others. Open Day at University. This became a huge time in my life. Thirty-eight years old I became a mature student attending university with fellow students half my age.
After leaving school aged fifteen years, study or college wasn’t on my agenda. Although I attended TAFE College for five years through my apprenticeship as a fitter and turner, my desire to study became non-existent.
At twenty-one years of age I joined Queensland Police Service to begin my career as a police officer. Each promotion I studied internally to pass until finally I reached the rank of Sergeant First Class. Further education in the police, particularly attending university became an independent choice for a police officer who intended to rise in the ranks.
Completing an Associate Diploma of Management at TAFE I wanted to learn more about management. I enrolled in University of Southern Queensland at Toowoomba to be an external student. This period became the beginning of external students before on-line courses on the internet.
Before first term commenced I attended Open Day at the university to acquaint myself with what I needed to do. Management studies were the buzz word at the time. I travelled from Redcliffe to Toowoomba with my wife and family to show them what I was getting myself into. What a shock!
Lucky a few other mature aged students enrolled in the course. Being my first personal experience of attending university, this far out-weighed attending TAFE. My family and I walked through the halls of education trying to understand a road map to where I needed to go.
Eventually we arrived at the right place. Strangers in a strange land. I tried to be confident; this didn’t work. Gritting my teeth, I powered through the continual paper work reading as much information as possible. This became too much for my brain. My brain became bruised from taking in so much information all at once.
If I couldn’t cope with the Open Day, how would I cope with studies and the courses?
By the end of this Open Day I became exhausted, wanting to stop and not study. Standing beside me at the enrolment table I started up a conversation with a fellow student similar age to myself. I listened to his story of hardships he endured by studying the past two years to finish grade 11 and 12. His inspiration encouraged me to think about my future.
This Open Day I will never forget. By the end of six years, constant study I must admit I finally received my Batchelor of Business Management Degree to major in Human Resource Management. From this Open Day to my final day of university showed me anything about myself. I’m proud to admit I have done almost everything within my power to achieve my ambitions.
If this Open Day event hadn’t happened, more so, if I didn’t meet a fellow student who motivated me toward my goals I sometimes think how I ever survived. I did!
Word count: 519
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK: CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/766429.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Mon Mar 26, 2018 9:54 pm

'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.
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK: CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/766429.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Mon Apr 02, 2018 10:49 pm

'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
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK: CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/766429.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:08 pm

'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 22:

Scratch Where It Itches

In the company of two beautiful women we gazed at each painting hoping to pick the winner of The Archibald Prize. With Pam and Jan my companions we decided to visit Queensland State Library to find the painting displayed which Noel gave us at the Pomona Writers Group to write this topic.
Our decision to journey to Brisbane inspect this masterpiece came through frustration. Neither of us understood what we needed to write. To research this topic a journey to Brisbane necessary. Without hesitation both ladies agreed to accompany me.
Walking along searching for the painting displaying two child-size hands facing outward with an invisible mask either of a child, or someone else. We finally stumbled upon this painting. Standing beside each other gazing at the painting I wanted to scratch where it itches. Somewhere I'd seen this painting before. Searching my memory database nothing appeared.
Jan, who happened to be more into art said. 'This is the same painting in the Noosa News I showed Noel last Tuesday.' Both Pam and I looked at Jan. My mind returned to Tuesday searching each moment hoping to discover Jan's discovery.
'You're probably right.' I told Jan.
'I'm right alright. This is the painting from the newspaper. Noel wanted us to write a story.' She impressed upon each of us. All three of us agreed we discovered the holy grail. Scratch where it itches continued to bug my mind. Examining this painting a solution to my problem to tell my brain the two hands were those of a young child. Hidden behind these hands a face. With one eye closed one imagined a child's face, whilst with both eyes open, an adult face.
Three of us stood silent gazing at the painting when a movement, like a mouth, in between the two hands said, 'a beautiful painting. Wouldn't you say?' All three of us turned to one another in astonishment. No other person standing nearby. Sent Goosebumps up my arm.
'Did the mouth move, a voice.' I stuttered to my companions.
'What do you make of this painting?' Answered the voice. Neither of us explained our opinion. 'Do you think this painting will win The Archibald Prize?' The voice eagerly asked.
Still in shock, 'I'd prefer not to have an opinion. Our writing group facilitator gave us a topic to write this week. This is our reason for being here to view the painting. He showed us a photograph of the painting to write a story. This is the painting'. I explained.
'Ask any questions. This is my painting. I've entered 'The Archibald Prize'. The voice echoed. The mouth moved to the words.
'Sorry. We should go. Thank you.' I said beckoned the two ladies to follow me. We rushed to the carpark not saying a word of our discovery. On our journey home we didn't discuss the painting or our experience of the voice.
Together we decided to send in a blank page to allow other members of the group to imagine what we wrote. This remedied my scratch where it itches.
Word count: 518
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK: CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/766429.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Wed Apr 04, 2018 9:42 pm

'Greatest OMR Stories' - Page 23:

Secret Life Of A Writer

Writing is a lonely life. Secret life of a writer is to write, write, write and write until finished.
My journey commenced at fourteen years old in sub-junior at Sandgate State High School. Our English teacher, Mr Imoff, wanted us to write a composition. If you remember back to 1963, an introduction, middle and conclusion. I ignored these instructions instead wrote a story.
After Mr Imoff read my composition his profound words became the birth of my writing career spanning more than half a century. You have a gift for writing. You write the way you speak which is unique. At the time, I never understood these words only thinking I need not worry about learning English.
Move forward twenty years. I'm studying an Associate Diploma of Management at TAFE College. My lecturer, Bob O'Sullivan wanted us to write a three-thousand-word assignment on 'What We Learned At The Weekend Workshop' in his 'Behaviour Class'. Again, I wrote a story.
When Bob returned each assignment, he wanted to speak with me about mine. Again, these profound words: You Have A Gift For Writing. You Write The Way You Speak Which Is Unique. These words were the same as Mr Imoff told me twenty years before. I didn't have a clue what each teacher meant by these words. Both Mr Imoff or Bob O’Sullivan had never met.
By the end of the course Bob became so impressed with my work he asked if we would write a book together. My position in the workforce at the time, Detective Sergeant Second Class, in charge of Juvenile Aid Bureau, Petrie. A serious issue of Teenage Children Running Away From Home concerned me greatly. I wanted an answer to this issue. Studies I learned in Bob's subject created a gateway in solving this issue.
Three years we wrote our first book 'Closing The Gap'. Eventually, published by The Australian Lions Drug Awareness Foundation disseminated through Lions, Leos, Lioness Clubs throughout Australia. 8000 copies sold. I became a published author.
At the same time this book was published, I had an operation to have the implantation of a pacemaker. My career as a police officer finished. Because of the operation to my major organ in my body I fell into a BIG BLACK HOLE of depression. After two years, I crawled my way back into society.
After trying to understand how to live with a pacemaker, I decided to write and self-publish my own story to help other recipients. How Could This Happen To Me became my second book to write and publish.
From working as a police officer for twenty years my career did a one hundred and eighty degree turn around. I became an alcohol and drug counsellor with Queensland Health. Since writing Closing The Gap I wanted to include drugs. Parents – STOP – Be Aware Of Your Child – Taking Drugs became my next book to make parents aware of drugs their children may be taking. An off-shoot to this book Programme Workbook For Young People became my next book to help those young people to set and achieve their goals in life.
With my self-confidence on a high I branched out to write a life story on a celebrity in Queensland Harness Racing. This book awarded me a National Prize. Suddenly, my life as a writer took off with other books I wrote and self-published. Presently I’m writing book number twenty-one.
Times have certainly changed since I began with my first book in 1988. Throughout the years, I have learned each step of writing, publishing, marketing, selling my books through the internet. Blows my mind to think I sit at my office at Brooloo spread-the-word throughout the world to advertise my books. Secret Life Of A Writer is to NEVER GIVE UP!
Word count: 636
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK: CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/766429.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Thu Apr 05, 2018 10:20 pm

'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
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK: CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/766429.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Fri Apr 06, 2018 10:54 pm

'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
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK: CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/766429.
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