Memories of my Father 1: Ovine CPR

I have just finished reading Romulus, My Father by Raimond Gaita. What a captivating story! I thoroughly enjoyed this book: the way it captured the extraordinary experience of migrating to Australia and making a success of your new life; the way Raimond recalled his early childhood and the detailed descriptions of large and small events that shaped his life. I look forward to the movie which has been highly acclaimed.
Raimond is only one year older than me so some of his 1950s experiences resonated strongly. Of course I never had it near as hard as he did but there was some common ground including living in the country (rabbiting, swimming in dams etc) and experiencing Elvis Presley and Bill Haley music.
I have written a few of my memories of my own father and here is one:

I remember the day Dad brought a lot of sheep back to life. We had let a large mob of sheep out of the yards and they were to go into the sixty acre paddock opposite the house. As was the usual practice a couple of us kids ran ahead of the mob and positioned ourselves so as to prevent the sheep going down the track or over into the house yard. Uncle Vic was herding the sheep from behind and Dad remained behind in the yards or the woolshed for some reason I can’t recall. We successfully headed the mob and they began funnelling through the gate, jumping high in the air as they cleared the congestion of the gateway and saw the wide open paddock ahead. Perhaps we moved too close but for whatever reason the sheep started to bunch as they crowded towards the gate. You could hardly see the opening for dust and sheep but it became clear that sheep were falling down and others were jumping on and over them in their panic to get through. As the last of the mob struggled through we could see over twenty sheep lying in the dust. Some were not moving and others were writhing, unable to get up. Uncle Vic raced onto the scene and was very distressed at what looked like a massive and unfortunate loss. At this point Dad was racing down the hill calling out and swearing at us for being so stupid as to push the sheep too hard into the gateway. As he came across the scene of smothered and dying sheep he paused and then launched into action. While the rest of us watched helplessly, he picked a motionless sheep up and held it in a standing position vigorously rubbing its chest and sides. After about a minute, perhaps less, the sheep spluttered, took a few faltering steps, then trotted unsteadily away. Dad quickly grabbed another and repeated the process. He continued on, racing from one sheep to another in a frenzy. After a while, Uncle Vic followed his lead and us kids just looked on in awe. After fifteen or twenty minutes Dad and Uncle Vic had revived about twenty sheep. There were three or four that were beyond help. Dad was more displeased that some had been lost than with his extraordinary effort of saving so many. But apart from a salutary lesson in how sheep must never be rushed too much, the incident showed how clever Dad was and how cool he could be in a crisis.

Weapons of Mass Distraction

I am so disillusioned by the Howard government's cynicism that I cannot detail my disgust. Suffice it to say: Dr Haneef - what a bloody fiasco by those who are supposed to be running the country. What does it take for people like Andrews and Keelty to resign. You'd think embarrassment would get 'em even if incompetence doesn't. Saving a Tassie hospital - Every man and his dog knows that many hospitals are a mess so why wait until an election is imminent to make a big splash? Aboriginal problems - see comment on Tassie hospital. And now they will blame others for Wednesday's interest rate rise! Talk about trying to distract us from Kevin's rising star.