“Ricordo del 26 July 1950 sulla spiaggia di Palmi – Memory of 26 July 1950 on the beach of Palmi…”
Sent to my grandparents from relatives in Italy during the 1950s, these beautiful photographs with their fleeting, heartfelt messages written on the back say a lot about the sacrifice of migration. Yes, that courage to go to the other side of the world brought much-needed opportunity and prosperity, as well as new friends and family. And yet, there was so much that had to be left behind too, loved ones, ancestral homes no matter how modest, centuries and generations of history and belonging.
To think of the fragility of such photographs criss-crossing the world sent with love and a need to keep family ties strong, well, it both warms my heart and makes it break a little, if I’m honest. These photographs were taken in Palmi, Calabria and Fossa, Abruzzo, Nanna Francesca and Nonno Anni’s birth towns and I wonder how they must have felt when they received them from their loved ones, Vincenzo, Pierina and Luigi.
I know this tradition kept on at least until the 1970s since Nanna would get me, as a child, to pose for photos to send to Italy. Back then, I couldn’t understand why she’d be sending a photo of me to some far-off relatives I’d never met. Now, it is quite amazing and beautiful to think how, for many decades, families between two countries on far sides of the world kept close in this way. 🖤📸
Thank you for all your kindnesses after my last post. I’ve now passed the halfway mark of my six-week recovery since I got home from hospital after the surgery and while some days have had challenges, I’m going pretty well so far.
This old photo is pretty faded and scratched but the main reason I chose to share it with you on Mother’s Day is that it’s a rare one showing together in a row three generations of women in my family who were mothers to me – Mum, Nanna Francesca and Great-Granny Maddalena.
Vale to my great-uncle, Vincenzo, Nanna Francesca’s brother, who she called, Vinchy. Some may recall I wrote about him in my first two books, especially Joe’s Fruit Shop and Milk Bar. To me, he was a quiet, gentle man for whom life was often difficult but he worked hard and was generous in giving lovely gifts with the little he had.
‘Helping Dad’. 😄 (Got to love that 1970s wallpaper. And the Band-Aid on the knee!) Buona festa del papà. 💕 Warmest wishes on this Father’s Day to our fathers and grandfathers present and past, our father figures, those of us who’d hoped to be fathers and all who are caring for and protecting children. Grazie eterni, Dad. 💙 Zoe xx
Bisnonna Francesca… a companion post to the previous on Bisnonno Domenico. Likewise, I didn’t get to meet her yet each photo has a little to reveal and brings the past somewhat closer in that moment. A rare photo, circa 1930 (bottom right) shows Francesca in Palmi, Calabria with her mother, Soccorsa, the baker and her daughter (Nanna Francesca). The three who lived together for years after Domenico was in Australia. And then (top left), just Francesca and her daughter, soon to leave to join him in 1934. She and her mother had worked hard to help raise the ship fares, determined as she was to be reunited.
In his work clothes (top left), one knee patched, behind him his Applethorpe orchards on land he’d hand-cleared, long before he could afford the horse.
My grandpa, Bob and my grandma, Lorna met there in the 1940s when each of them were stationed in Darwin, he in the air force, she in the WNELs (Women’s National Emergency Legion), being among those involved in its clean-up and recovery. These bombings also meant the ramping up of interning Italian ‘aliens’, Nonno Anni being one of those rounded up soon after as a result of what happened in Darwin.
I planted these in the vegie patch to attract bees yet the flowers have taken me straight back to the daisy bushes Nanna Francesca grew in her front garden. She often had us stand in front of those daisy bushes for photos and from the 1950s on, we have decades of family photos taken with the daisies. (I’m guessing I’m not the only one who has old photos taken in front of a certain plant or tree in a family garden over the years!) While those daisies are long gone now, I love how daisies will forever remind me of Nanna Francesca. (I also couldn’t resist including the photo of Bisnonno Vitale watering their front garden back when three generations of the family all lived in the house on Brunswick Street.)
I have this one treasured photo with three generations of the Boccabella men in my life – Dad, Nonno Anni, Bisnonno Vitale (and my zio).
Thank you to great-granny Maddalena who showed me about forbearance, cheekiness, growing vegetables and cooking minestrone and great-grandma Charlotte for her work ethic, kindness, growing gerberas and carnations and baking scones.
Happy 80th Birthday to my great uncle, Vince. Lovely to celebrate this milestone with him on the weekend. To me, he’s always been a gentle soul and am so glad we’ve stayed close.
…small moments of beauty.
Coming up this street in Fossa always feels like being ‘almost home’ whether returning from nearby L’Aquila or a long flight from Australia. For just around the next corner is my family’s house and while it has centuries of history, to me it also has that comforting feel like coming to stay at your grandparents’ house.
In this photograph of my family’s fruit shop and milk bar in its earlier days, it’s apparent how it began very modestly with my grandparents standing on the footpath in Ann Street selling produce from a ‘hole in the wall’ before they expanded the space to include a milk bar. Visible in the top left is some of the sign that hung over the footpath from around the early 1950s. It was white with ‘milk bar’ in red Perspex letters and lit up at night.
Zoë Boccabella 