by Pat Ritter
that previous afternoon. I left a note on the mirror which couldn't miss telling him I couldn't be contacted. I wanted my time!
Every so often I escaped into my own world, grab a overnight bag and drove where the car took me. Amazingly I always headed west. This trip was no different. I loved stopping in small towns, visiting different shops to take me back to an earlier era. The city wasn't for me. This time my vehicle took me north of Gympie.
Time for morning smoko. I stopped at a café in Goomeri. Instead of sitting at a table in front of the café, I walked across the road to a park and sat at a table beside a pond. My mind relaxed, too much. Memories flicked back almost thirty years to remember seated at the same table with my work mate.
Clear as this memory became in my mind, I almost felt my companion seated beside me speaking as if in the present. He long ago left earth and now rested in peace in heaven. This didn't stop the memories forming in my mind.
I remembered 1977, a year both detectives in Queensland Police Force, as it was known then. Earlier on the day in question, we investigated an assault and robbery at Chinchilla committed by two male offenders on a handicapped male. They lured him to the rear section of the hotel pretending a female waited for him.
When they reached a spot out of sight one punched him in the stomach whilst the other stole his wallet which totalled seven dollars. They escaped and travelled north and later apprehended by Goomeri police. We drove from Chinchilla to Goomeri and returned the two culprits back to Dalby for questioning.
My companion and I went without sleep for over twenty fours hours which we were used to doing. Sleep is something we all need but when the adrenaline pumps through your veins rapidly, your mind comes alive and your body functions normally. Often people speak about 'getting a second wind', perhaps this is what happened to us.
Two o'clock the following morning we arrived with the culprits to question them about their actions toward the handicapped male. Memories flooded to my mind seated at the table, birds chirping their song and having no knowledge of my thinking. A hologram appeared before me of my companion typing down questions when I asked the first person his account of the assault. He sang like the bird chirping before me.
When it was my turn to type the questions and answers, my companion spoke with the second culprit. It was a different story. He denied all knowledge of being at Chinchilla or assaulting the person we spoke about. The hologram vanished before my eyes. Memories returned to normal. I finished my hot chocolate, returned to my vehicle and kept driving.
After my two days venture I returned home to find a note on the mirror from my son showing anger because he didn't know where I'd gone. After searching beneath the lounge chair I discover the note I left for him. Obviously he didn't read it because it had blown from the mirror and landed out of sight beneath the chair.
Word count:755
It Was The Best Of Times
It Was The Worst Of Times
This title contains the first words written by Charles Dickens in his book ‘Tale of Two Cities’ in 1859 selling over 200 million copies.
In my latest book ‘The Shearer’ the major character Joe Ryan is a shearer who wants shearer’s wages and work conditions improved. His good friend Joe Gibson also a shearer supports his friend in wanting these changes.
They work under harsh conditions shearing with blade shears. Instead of shearing in a shearing shed; they shear in the open on a stretched tarpaulin. At night they speak about how they’d love to improve conditions and a seed of hope is planted.
In 1890 a shearer’s conference was held in Bourke, New South Wales which Joe Ryan attends. After listening to the speakers he’s determined to return to Queensland and commence a union to protect his fellow shearers to create better working conditions and improve wages.
Over twelve months he convinced most of his fellow shearers to join the ‘Queensland Shearer’s Union’ as a group they can confront the pastoralists to fight for their rights. His friend Joe Gibson declined to join.
The straw which broke the camel’s back came when shearers at Jondaryan Station on the Darling Downs went on strike on 5th January 1891.
A spark ignited this debate and before long a raging fire erupted between shearers and the pastoralists across Queensland when shearers belonging to the ‘Queensland Shearers Union’ went on strike.
Joe Ryan hearing of the strike gathered his fellow shearers to form a camp on the outskirts of Cunnamulla and stayed until a resolution reached between the two parties. This strike continued for five months. His friend Joe Gibson didn’t join in the strike.
They lived in make-shift tents across a wide area living in cold and wet conditions. Ultimately the shearers couldn’t hold out because of lack of food, no money; something had to give.
By the end of May, hungry, penniless, shearers had had enough. Joe did his best to encourage his fellow shearers to continue their fight but alas at the end he too could see the writing on the wall.
On the morning the police were to enter the camp and arrest Joe Ryan, his friend Joe Gibson entered the camp and spoke about the forthcoming arrest, ‘they’re coming to arrest you Joe’, his friend told him.
Instead of Joe Ryan being arrested, his friend Joe Gibson took his place and assumed his identity. It was the best of times: it was the worst of times.
Word count: 434
Life Is A Jigsaw
What is life? Life is marked by continual activity, growth, reproduction and the ability to change according to the surroundings. We rise in the morning, tend to our daily chores and sleep at night, again repeating a similar lifestyle daily.
Life is a jigsaw joined by different pieces to form a tapestry. My tapestry began with a corner piece sixty-six years ago when my life began. From there more different shaped pieces fitted along the bottom portion of this tapestry.
Memories of events growing up in a country town pieced together fun, excitement, growth, friendships, school, and country living to finally complete the first two layers of this puzzle ending my childhood to enter into the puzzled world of adolescents.
Finding various shapes of this puzzle in this period of my life began with living in a different environment compared to how and where I had lived. City life began with serious issues compared to the lifestyle of country living.
This third layer of life jigsaw puzzle took me on a journey to experience a relationship of jungle warfare with testosterone induced day and night, not clearly understanding what happened to the child to turn into this monster - a teenager.
Only fifteen percent of the puzzle complete, a search began to find pieces to fit into the rest of this life’s jigsaw. Career and work finally found the way to cover the next twenty percent of the pieces to form a small version of the completed tapestry.
Love, marriage and family took on a whole new direction and meaning to this puzzle. Meeting a soul-mate, falling in love, marriage, children and growth to make a family, increased the pieces to form sixty percent of the jigsaw.
Happy memories, children born, raising a family, and raised to adults, their children to almost complete the jigsaw, with pieces which cannot be found until the jigsaw is complete. Until these pieces are discovered life continues to be a jigsaw.
Who knows with time the pieces will all fit into this tapestry of life? We have no knowledge when this ‘life as a jigsaw’ will be complete. Until then all we can do is reach our goals, achieve what we want from life, and live a life well lived?
Word count: 383
Lightning Never Strikes Twice
Or does it! A couple of decades ago a person living in my neighbourhood won first prize in Gold Lotto on a Saturday night. This win gave him sufficient fortune to retire from the workforce.
We’d meet at a function soon afterwards and when we spoke I thought how lucky this person was to win Gold Lotto, ‘imagine if this happened to me’ I thought, my face broke into a smile showing bubbles of winning in my mind bursting with excitement.
Within a c
ouple of years this same person won Gold Lotto again, this time sharing it with his family. Also, on the prior Saturday night a young man who stayed with this person won Gold Lotto giving him sufficient fortune to purchase anything he desired.
Luck was in our neighbourhood with winning lotto and I was hopeful this luck would travel onto my place so I’d share in their excitement. Unfortunately it didn’t.
Lightning did strike twice with this family and another who stayed at their home. My neighbour purchased five houses with his winnings whilst his tenant purchased two although they’d won almost near the same amount.
Alas, within two years the tenant returned to his old way of life exhausting his wealth and ending up with nothing more than he started with before his win. On the other hand my neighbour continued to purchase homes and to my knowledge continues to do so today.
When scratch-its first appeared before us purchased from Newsagents, my mother-in-law won $50,000.00. The family had never seen this amount of money before in their lives.
I remember the moment when I telephoned to congratulate them on their win. They honestly didn’t know what to do with the winnings. I strongly suggested investing $40,000.00 in the bank and doing what they wanted with the remaining $10,000.00.
Within three months they were broke having destroyed their winnings on things they didn’t need. My mother-in-law then went on a
