Antonio deMarco

Story

Dad fought in World War II and in Africa. We lived in the small village of Plati in the mountains of Calabria and although reasonably well off by village standards, we drew water from a tap in the square, washed clothes in the river and rarely ate meat. Journeys to other villages were on foot and electricity was for lighting only. Dad set out for Australia in 1951 to prepare the way for a better life for his family. He spent time on farms in Griffith, NSW before joining the railway and arriving in Canberra where he worked with Parks and Gardens.

He sent for us after four years and we boarded the ‘Sydney\’ at Messina after a long train ride from Plati. Mum, 43 and fearful, brought five children across the ocean to a land of unfamiliar language, customs, sights and food. We children had never travelled before and were thrilled with everything. The sea was new to us and we tasted our first lifesavers on that ship. We reunited with Dad in April 1955. It was wonderful and when he bought a beer that night we had our first sip of Flag Ale.

We came by train to Canberra and our new home in O\’Connor. Our palace had hot and cold running water inside; a stove and fridge; three bedrooms, a bathroom and toilet and a back yard just right for a big garden. Luxury. Mum and Dad had vegetables growing within months and fruit trees were lovingly planted with a promise of future harvests. Together again at last, Mum and Dad and five were soon blessed with a son, their first to be born in Australia. He would know the Italian culture only through an Australian prism. Before the baby was two, our Father died from Cancer leaving our mother alone with six children to feed, unable to speak English, unwilling to accept charity and a determination to fulfil our father\’s dream for a better life. She fed and clothed us with what she produced at her own hands. Her greatest gift to us, the belief that here, anything was possible. And it was.

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