I found this lovely photo of Nanna Francesca’s Sydney cousins and friends tucked in with a letter sent to her in Brisbane in the 1950s. The way news was shared of a new baby and baptism celebration back when it wasn’t common to hop on plane (and who could afford to take time off from work anyway).
In Italy, they’d all mostly lived in the same town, often a short walk from each other’s houses. Now, different situations meant sometimes living vast distances apart in Australia and, plane fares aside, even an interstate phone call was terribly expensive, if you actually had a phone yet.
I can just picture Nanna Francesca finding this letter in the mailbox and opening it while still standing out in the sunshine. Perhaps smiling to see the photo tucked inside. Happiness maybe mixed with a little melancholy at not being able to be there in person.
There’s so much I love about this photo. The togetherness, the joy in creating their own music and a new life held aloft – the baby perhaps the first born of the next generation in this new country. I notice the older generations are not there, they are back in Italy, and so new connections are being created all the time in Australia and held close, friends becoming like relatives too. All the while, holding onto that much-loved and familiar Italian life as well, which the new generations will also come to love. Connections new and old. ❤️🌠
I’ve been ‘hunkered down’ working on the next book but so you still know I’m here, 😊 I thought I’d delve into the old photo box to see what might be nice to share and this one caught my eye. Mainly because of the wattage in Nanna Francesca’s smile. She looks so happy!
A part of my Italian-Australian life in two photos… the first one – Nanna Francesca (centre) taking her visiting cousins from Sydney to Qld’s Big Pineapple. To me, there’s something about seeing these three Italian migrant women standing in front of something so Australian, knowing how my nonna loved going there and knowing how it was a world away from their stone villages in Italy. Nanna Francesca brought me back an enormous Big Pineapple pencil with a pineapple on the end of it. I was about five (and still have it!) She also bought herself a Big Pineapple tea-towel and salt and pepper shakers.
These shakers – in the second photo – sat, never used, behind glass in her ‘good’ cabinet, for decades. Then, after my grandparents had both died and the family was packing up their house of more than fifty years, I found myself standing in front of this cabinet looking at those two pineapples. Yes, they were kitschy but I couldn’t let them end up lost, so now they sit on a bookshelf in my kitchen, a little reminder of Nanna Francesca that makes me smile.
A quiet Sunday, Brisbane, 1954, out front of the fruit shop and milk bar… when cousin Tony came to visit from Melbourne and everyone met there for photos since, at this time, Nonno Anni kept it open from 7am until 10pm, 363 days a year.
Today’s the day! 
I’m so thrilled that, 
“On Boxing Day, Annibale, Francesca and the others loaded the back of the Chevrolet with cold drinks, some roast chickens and a couple of large watermelons. After several years of keeping the fruit shop and milk bar open almost every day, Annibale had decided they’d close for a couple of days over Christmas and the family would head to the beach for the day…
I never usually know what ‘international day’ it is but happened to see that today it’s in honour of rural women, so thought I’d share with you this rare photo of my great-grandmother taken of her alone.
Thinking of all those volunteering and working over this time when many get to take a break. It still amazes me how my grandparents opened their milk bar and fruit shop 7 days a week from early morning ‘til late at night with only two days a year off – for 20 years straight! And then ‘scaled back’ to 5 days a week for the following years.
Zoë Boccabella 