Michael Lewis O'Sullivan
A Celebration of the Life of Michael Lewis O'Sullivan
20/11/1940 - 3//8/2007
EULOGY (Daniel & Paddy)
Dad grew up in Patchewollock, attended primary school there then went to St. Pat’s in Ballarat, where he loved reminding people he was on the same athletics team as George Pell, now Cardinal Pell.
Returning to the family property at age 16 he began farming. Dad was sadly lacking in patience, a trait which is hereditary. He was more suited to machinery than animals, especially sheep, and much angst revolved around their care. On one occasion during a drought, Mum & Dad were feeding sheep from the ute; Mum was driving, a recipe for disaster, as she was a bit of a lead-foot, and going over a bump, Dad disappeared out the back. After driving around Mum wondered why she hadn’t been abused for 5 minutes when she discovered Dad was no longer there! By the time she got back to him his fury had abated and his cheeks gone back to their normal colour.
On another occasion they were rounding up sheep and neither the dog nor the sheep were doing the right thing and Dad roared ‘get in the back of the ute’, so Mum dutifully got in the back - the command was meant for the dog!
One year after harvest we were getting ready to travel to Newcastle, Mum’s stamping grounds. There had been a fox disturbing the chooks so Dad was securing the chook yard. As usual, Clare was playing up and he gave her a serve. Just then he noticed the fox and said to Rebecca: “quick, get the gun”. Rebecca dutifully went back to the house and Mum gave her the gun. As she was walking up the path she looked back at Mum and said: “I think Dad’s going to shoot Clare”.
Dad & farming didn’t really see eye to eye, so he eventually took the very brave step of selling up and moving to Bendigo, realizing there was a big world outside Patchewollock. He was very involved in insurance then real estate, winning a state award for the former; there were also other jobs, too numerous to mention, before Dad found his niche as a caravan park manager, taking up the reins at the Wedderburn Caravan Park in December 1998.
He ruled the park with an iron fist and legend had it that if you could run the gauntlet from the front to the back of the park without getting shot, you were doing well.
The caravan park toilets were said to be the cleanest in the state; the toilet paper in the cabins had to be folded in points and everyone knows that the paper always comes from over the top! The caravan park was a mirror of the wider world and people of all types stayed there. Dad was a counsellor of sorts as he advised and listened to many people, especially down and outs. Once he helped a recently released gaol bird and gave him food and clothing; the fellow repaid him the next week by coming back and stealing a t.v. out of one of the cabins!
Mick was a stern but fair man and was good with machinery, especially cars; he took the time to explain things to us. We kids always followed one of the older generation around and one day I was with Mick when he was trying to untangle some rope from a gate and he told me to ask Tim for his pocket knife. Tim said: ‘tell Mick that smart farmers always carry a knife’. After the rope was cut, Mick sent me back to Tim with the knife and said totell Tim that ‘smart farmers wouldn’t spend $100 on a blunt pocket knife’.
At one time a severe storm had come through Patche’ bringing a power line down in a puddle just outside Mick & Sue’s gate. Mick was unsure whether it was live, so quick as a flash he grabbed the cat, not one of his favourite animal species, and threw it in the puddle! The cat disdainfully walked out the other side. Milking cows also raised Mick’s ire and any cow who put its foot in the bucket tended up wearing the milk.
A good man sadly missed.
Aug. 9, 2007
