For ninety years these photographs have been in this frame. It hung for decades on a farmhouse wall. Parents, aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins… my Bisnonna Cesca lovingly placing their photos all together after she got to Australia in 1934, while they remained in Italy, or went to America, Canada or other parts of Australia.
Given their stone houses had sat close in Italy, it must’ve felt so different for Cesca and Mico with their three children to be in an Australian timber house ‘on stumps’ amid orchards five miles from town. Loved ones once a short walk away in Italy, now in photographs, their conversations solely through letters.
As I seek out more about older family from my Calabria side, their surname meanings give little hints of lives once lived… Zappone – ‘worked the land’, Carrozza – ‘carriage driver’, Rizzitano – ‘curly haired’ (wish I’d inherited that!), or Solano – ‘facing the sun’. I love that Nanna Francesca’s maiden name means ‘facing the sun’, as she so loved it’s light and warmth.
‘Il sole non si dimentica di un villaggio perché è piccolo’ – the sun doesn’t forget a village just because it’s small. Just as we hold onto that which might be humble yet significant, a connection to the past that persists for many of us, generations on, even as we speak with different accents in other places.
As if a hidden force keeps drawing us back, to a place we’ve never been, to reconnect with family we’ve never met, to cook the old, spoken recipes and to seek out the stories of those in the fading photos…
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).
“Ricordo del 26 July 1950 sulla spiaggia di Palmi – Memory of 26 July 1950 on the beach of Palmi…”
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.
Zoë Boccabella 