by Pat Ritter
cloud of darkness filled my mind with a message screaming, you have a heart condition. From that moment onward for the next three days I sat in a lounge chair only moving to visit the toilet. My mind was completely blank and my body didn’t want to do anything.
At last something clicked in my mind to get up; I rose and went to the bathroom to wash my face. There I saw a picture of a person I didn’t know. This person was unshaven; smelt horrible; unwashed and I failed to recognize him.
A message in my mind kept screaming to wake up to myself however the body didn’t react. I’d fallen into a deep black hole of depression and didn’t know what to do to get climb out.
Over the next two years I lived in this big black hole and only survived day to day. It didn’t matter what I did; I failed. Even doing the weekly shopping, I failed.
With my career of twenty years finished I took on another one helping others. In the beginning it was I who needed help but over time rebuilt my self-confidence to finally escape from the big black hole to see blue coloured sky once again.
It was the turning point in my life.
Word count: 548
It started with a letter:
Twelve months prior, exactly to the day, I had an operation for the implantation of a pacemaker; a milestone in my life, however, not so for my career as a police officer of twenty years in the Queensland Police Service.
11am on the morning of 11th January 1991 a letter was handed to me from the Commissioner of Police. This letter read in part:
Having regard to the medical opinions of the cardiologists, I am satisfied that you should not continue to be required to perform the duties of office or be appointed to a position as a staff member and I call upon you to retire from the Queensland Police Service.
Was I angry? No. Was I disappointed? By all means I was disappointed by the manner I was treated. I was only a number – 8091. Did it matter to the newly appointed Commissioner of Police I’d served 20 strong years of dedicated service; committed to serving the citizens of the State. No – I don’t think he cared. Anyhow, I think he had more troubles on his mind than worry about my future.
For the previous twelve months Queensland Police Service had undergone the Fitzgerald Inquiry into corruption. It was a dark period for the service to go through and I’m pleased I wasn’t a part of the demise.
This letter came at a point in my life, when looking back on it now through older eyes, was a definite turning point. I could no longer rely on a career and in fact found my life difficult to know what to do next.
I remember not long after receiving this letter, I sat at my desk at home and drew a line down the centre of an A4 sheet of paper. On the left I wrote What Am I Good At and on the other column What I’m Not Good At?
This act of confronting my conscious drew only a couple of answers. On the good side I wrote Writing/Communication and on the opposite side I listed almost thirty topics. Therefore I needed to look at the present skills of Writing/Communication to be the greatest asset.
Over the next 20 years I weaved new threads through the tapestry of my life with newly found excitement and joy; by learning different skills and helping others.
If it hadn’t of been for that letter, I doubt I would be the person I am today.
Word count: 411
The lighthouse:
School children – I thought they were school children because each wore a similar coloured uniform and held a clipboard. They were gathered at the base of the Byron Bay Lighthouse.
Another person, who gave the group instructions, a little older and dressed in casual clothing, I suppose she was their teacher, ‘take your biros and write the circumference and height of the tower of the lighthouse.’
Immediately a buzz of excitement flowed across the group, many whispering, ‘how are we supposed to do that?’
‘I don’t know – but if we measure the size of one brick, count the number around the circumference and count the number to the top, we should have the answer.’ A lone voice echoed.
‘And how are we supposed to do that – each brick is a different size.’ One of the students claimed. A girl wearing a pink ribbon in her hair, ‘Miss… can you help us?’
‘Unfortunately you’ve got this one on your own’, the older person admitted.
Fingers outstretched all pointed toward the outside wall of the lighthouse. Imaginary wheels of thought turned in the minds of these young people to determine the size of each block and the number to measure the circumference. There was much nodding, arguing, discussion and agreement.
One brave student climbed the short distance upon a landing to get a closer measure of each brick. ‘Good on ya Mike,’ a unison call came from the group.
When he was level with the base of the lighthouse he used a ruler to measure the length of one brick, ‘Sixty centremetres in length,’ he called to his fellow students. He measured the height of one brick, ‘thirty centremetres in height’ he called. Biros worked together.
Returning to his friends and after many pats on the back, the elder of the group not dressed in a uniform said, ‘thank you Mike for risking your neck. What was I to tell your parents if you’d fallen? Now students what do you do with Mike’s measurements?’
Another buzz ‘what do we do’ echoed through the group with many pointing and counting. ‘Why don’t we count the first layer of bricks and count the number from the base to the top and multiply them,’ a squeaky voice called.
‘They’re all different sizes, the higher the tower the narrower it is at the top.’ Another called.
‘Has anyone got any suggestions?’ Another wanted to know.
‘What exactly has the teacher asked us to do?’ A small low voice echoed.
‘I can’t remember – do you know.’
‘She wants to know the circumference and height of the tower of the lighthouse.’
‘Ah, it’s easy – all we need to do is to count the number of bricks around the base of the tower, count the number from the base to the top and using Mike’s measurements – we’ll have the answer.’
‘It’s no wonder you’re always top of the class.’ Another called.
Word count: 487
A horse’s view of the Melbourne cup:
If only horses could talk to one another, I don’t mean the Mister Ed talks. What do you think they would say apart of ‘neigh’?
For this story I’ve allowed each horse to convert to human language, so we can understand. Also, they don’t talk using a voice but send telepathic messages to each other.
It’s only minutes before the running of the 2010 Melbourne Cup. The horses have paraded before the grandstand; patrons have had a good look at the favourite So You Think trained to the minute by the Cup King, Bart Cummings.
Bad news has rocked the race with an earlier fall and injury to jockey Blake Shinn who was to ride another of Bart Cumming’s horses Precedence and is now to be ridden by James Wink. The Irish horse Bauer is the only scratching leaving a field of 23 runners.
On the way to the barrier the favourite So You Think is pacing alongside another runner Americain, ‘I’ll beat you today,’ he glared into the eyes of his opponent.
‘You haven’t got the legs to go two mile – I’ll crack you at the last furlong.’ He remarked confidently.
‘We’ll see to that.’ So You Think answered.
Another runner came up on their outside, ‘I’ll flog you both.’ Maluckday challenged.
‘I don’t think so; I know I can beat both of you because by the end of the two mile all you’ll see is my tail.’ Americian boasted.
‘We’ll see about that, what’d think Muluckday – can be beat this boaster from America?’ So You Think implied.
‘He’s not from here and we want to keep this race to ourselves. Who wants outsiders to take away our cup?’ Muluckday exclaimed.
All three horses eyed each other until positioned in their barrier. A red light flashed and the gates flung open. The race was on for young and old.
Unfortunately the winning post came too early with Americian winning; Muluckday running second and So You Think third.
‘What’s my backside look like?’ Americian boasted to his fallen foe.
‘Yeah, alright so you did – congratulations, you beat us fair and square.’ The other two said in unison.
Word count: 414
Dance with me:
She fell into my arms; I didn’t need to say, ‘will you dance with me.’
The music of Daniel O’Donnell softly played in the background. His voice sweetly penetrated our souls, the words glistened magic and the moment felt right. If ever I knew I was in heaven this was the moment.
Arm in arm we softly danced to the music and particularly the song, I just want to dance with you. Mother Earth was in line with the planets, Jupiter separated earth and the sun. In that moment if the world was to stop life would have been well spent.
We moved about the lounge room carpeted floor – it wasn’t the wooden smooth floor of a dance hall but that didn’t matter moving to the sound of I want to dance with you, twirl you around the floor, that’s why they invented dancing for, I just want to dance with you.
When Daniel sang, I want everyone to sing, we broke into a chorus and looked into each other’s eyes, I want to dance with you, twirl you around the floor, that’s what they invented dancing for. I just want to dance with you.
Invisible hearts formed around us when his voice sang hold you in my arms once more, that’s what they invented dancing for, I just want to dance with you, I honestly though my heart was going to burst and I never wanted the moment to stop.
We looked into each other’s eyes and I could see the love she gave to me. The dance and the song may have had something to do with our feelings but in the end I think it was the impromptu way I asked her to dance with me.
Word count: 295