by Pat Ritter
buying spree to purchase as many scratch-it ticket she could afford to see if ‘lightning strikes twice’. I still remember her purchasing tickets, sitting down and with her fingernail on her right index finger protruding sufficient to scratch the ticket in hope to win another huge prize. She went to her grave not winning another huge prize.
I love lightning to strike me once in winning Gold Lotto to feel the excitement of winning. I’ll never give up until I do.
Word count: 412
Memoirs Of A Postie
Would you believe I began operations two hundred years ago? My first postal job began in April 1809 when letters were delivered to my care from the ships arriving from mother England. I’ve delivered mail, through rain, hail or shine across Australia ever since.
Isaac Nichols became my first Australian postmaster, in the colony of New South Wales. In the same year Post Offices opened in Sydney and Hobart and by 1844 every town had their own letter box.
I remember delivering mail on horse back, similar to overland express rider in the wild western plains of America. We didn’t have the romantic ventures as did these express riders however we delivered mail to all corners of Australia.
One particular delivery I remember well was during First World War when our Australian troops were fighting overseas. Weekly I’d be the person who delivered THAT letter, no one wanted to open, addressed to mothers who’d lost their son in the fighting. They knew the instant I handed them the envelope what it contained; to see their eyes fill with tears. I couldn’t console their feelings.
Delivering mail throughout the great western plains in the mid fifties when I delivered parcels to outback stations riding a horse for miles until the motor vehicle replaced the horse to improve mail delivery service.
Then our ‘Postie Bike’, arrived, red Honda 80 fitted with saddles to hold the mail. From riding the horse to riding a Honda 80 mail delivery became easier for the postie. Only problem with riding these red coloured delivery bikes mostly attracted the swoops of the magpie, to overcome these constant attacks from above I placed straws into my helmet which ceased their attacks.
Nothing changed for decades until technology introduced the internet, telephones, sending of e-mails which constituted in less letter writing and therefore less mail delivery by the postie.
This became a sad day in the life of a postie. I suppose one advantage did arise from technology in that the internet provided buying items on the internet sites delivered to homes. Parcels overtook delivery of letters with postal delivery of letters reduced from five days per week down to three.
In my opinion I don’t think the ‘postie’ will ever be placed on the endangered species list for there are too many red coloured ‘Postie Bikes’ still seen throughout Australia to use in their daily delivery of mail to every address in Australia. The postie will never die!
Word count:417
My Dad Was In The Navy
Actually he wasn’t, his four brothers joined the navy. My Dad served in the Army.
On a Saturday afternoon my family visited our grandmother. Through this period of the late 50’s and early 60’s I remember as if it was yesterday. I’d walk into her bedroom seeing displayed beside her bed photographs of her sons dressed in their navy uniform.
Pride swelled in her chest when either of us children mentioned anything about her sons who were in the navy. Stories filled in our afternoon when our grandmother told us about their adventures on the high seas.
During my older years when I grew to know my uncles they each had a different story as told to us by our grandmother. One uncle told me all he saw of the ocean, when he left the ship. Most of the other time he worked below in the engine room shovelling coal to operate the engines.
They each finished their time in the navy to return to life on the land. One uncle drove his own taxi which he did until he retired. Another a labourer and two others followed employment whenever and wherever they could get a job.
As for my father, he married my mother whilst in the army and discharged to follow employment as a dry-cleaner, his lifetime work.
We must remember these roles were part of World War 11 when Japanese threatened Australia. They never spoke about the war or anything which happened. This became a taboo subject.
I can only imagine how courageous my father and uncles must have been to enlist in their selected services to fight a war which made Australia what it is today, free.
I remember at seventeen years old the government of the day conscripted men to fight in the Vietnam War. I was fortunate enough not to have my birth date drawn. Many of my mates were conscripted and went to Vietnam to fight a war no one wanted. My cousin became one of those conscripted. I don’t know what happened in Vietnam, but I do know those who went didn’t return in the same mental capacity as before they left.
No doubt our country needs our services. My nieces and nephews joined the Army following school; some still remain whilst others joined civilian life to become professional people. I applaud their efforts to join and participate in a disciplined life of service to our country.
Word count:414
My Least Favourite Restaurant
Without a doubt – McDonalds. Although their franchise is one of the largest in the world, I hate going to McDonalds. My reason is fast food, quick service, and cost.
To give you an example let me share with you a story when I take my grandson to McDonalds. I'm inadequate to order the food because of my age. I don't understand the choices. Therefore I tell my grandson, 'order what you want.' He doesn't worry about the cost because he's not paying.
With a flurry of words, clearly understandable to him, he recites from the menu which I haven't a clue what he's ordered. The person standing behind the cash register interprets his order without a blink of an eye, 'do you want fries with that?' The cashier added.
The cashier says, 'that'll be forty-four dollars and twenty cents.'
'What!' My mind gushed with astonishment. Withdrawing my plastic card from my wallet and slide it into the grove of the machine.
'Do you require any cash?' The teenager behind the desk asked.
'No, thank you, only the food.' I answered with tongue in cheek.
'Your account and password,' the teenager completes the transaction finishing the order to ask the customer standing next to me for their order. They don't let grass grow under their feet.
Within seconds our order is delivered. Do we stay inside to eat our calorie induced food or take it with us? We decide to stay indoors; this way at least I'll be able to read the local newspaper while I eat my order of fish fillet with no chips combined with a vanilla thick shake.
My grandson golloped his food down in a couple of mouthfuls, 'Pop, can I go to the playground?' I nod between eating my fish burger, slurping on the vanilla thick shake and reading the newspaper. He's gone faster than Flash Gordon.
What did we do before McDonalds came along? We had our local fish and chip shop when we purchased as many chips to feed an army, wrapped in newspaper and pay only sixpence. This became our Saturday outing for my mate and me.
How times have changed with drive through service, coupled with not leaving your motor vehicle, to receiving home service delivery either over the internet or telephone.
We can't escape this phenomenon of fast food in today's society, but please it would be nice to slow down a little to smell the fat and feel grease run down your arm after purchasing hot chips wrapped in a newspaper with one end torn open. The heat of the chips burn when your fingers grab one to place in your mouth. They were the days.
Word count: 453
My Life As A Former Alcoholic
This is not a confession. I admit I am an alcoholic. You understand one cannot be a former alcoholic, because as the saying goes, one drink is too many and a thousand not enough. I tried many times to stop drinking alcohol but fortunately at the age of twenty-eight years old on 13th January 1977 I drank my last drink of alcohol.
Although this is a long
time on the wagon from not falling off, since that day my life changed forever. At twelve years old I drank my first glass of beer, cold, straight from the wooden keg, to my lips. This sent a direct message to my brain to tell me how good it was. Within the next hour I was pissed out of my mind.
Three years later I celebrated entering the workforce by again cold beer entered my mouth, drain down my throat and into my stomach. An electronic circuit from my taste buds direct to my brain by-passed my organs and stomach. Within consuming three drinks, I became drunk.
Over the next thirteen years I consumed more beer, on a regular basis, to fill Sydney Harbour three times over. I loved the stuff and it liked me. These periods of drinking placed me into another world, a safer world where I could be myself. At the time my drinking effected my wife and two children.
I put my wife through hell. Never abusive or threatening, only thinking I needed one more drink. We were always the first to attend a party and the last to leave, me pissed out of my brain. Something needed to give. I was headed for a car crash.
On the morning of 13th January 1977 my wife threatened to leave me and take the children if I didn't do something about my drinking. Honestly, it never occurred to me I had a drinking problem. My mother always put up with my father's drinking. My wife wasn't my mother. Standing upright I said, 'I promise you I will never drink again!' Beer hasn't passed my