Deborah Willenbrecht

Story

Australia Ð Dad had talked about it. It was 1971 and I was 14 years old and in eighth grade. It wasn\’t possible that Dad would want to take us away from our family and friends to a place we knew nothing about but if Dad said it was going to happen, then that was ‘it\’ and we were bound for Geelong Victoria.

Even in Wyoming in the 60s the drug problem was worsening. Dad knew that he had made the right decision when I came home from school with tales of being offered some marijuana. Taxes were high. Dad owned his own business and we all knew that Uncle Sam was taking his fair cut. These were some of the reasons given for the relocation.

Australia needed people and the government was offering ‘assisted passage\’ to those suitable for immigration. Dad filled out lots of paperwork and attend interviews in California before his family were acceptable as immigrants.

We knew nothing about Australia. I told my geography teacher about the move and so we studied this country that was so far away. Wheat and wool were its main exports Ð it sounded like Wyoming.

After lots of garage sales and farewells we were off. A family of five kids, three girls and two boys, who hadn’t ventured much out of Wyoming, were now heading to a new country down under.

After a very long journey we landed in Melbourne. Five kids ranging in ages from 18 months to 16 years all huddled around their parents, frightened about the prospects of starting a new life in a strange country.

Where are the kangaroos and koalas? Scary riding in a car where the driver is sitting on the wrong side!

The first impression, even though we were country hicks, was we had stepped into the past. The cars and the telephones looked old. All of the housing and buildings looked ancient. Everything seemed to move at a much quicker pace though, including the speech. There were so many funny words to learn and everyone thought it was cute when any of us said things like ‘tomato\’ or ‘banana\’.

We had just come from a hot summer in Wyoming. It was cold and raining and the wind was colder than any wind we\’d ever felt, even though we had lived in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. We were, after all, in Victoria and it was August. School holidays were over for us but the kids here had just started their two week winter break. So that meant we had a few days to settle in.

House in Ocean Grove. Our home in Wyoming hadn\’t been huge, but my sister and I had our own bedrooms with double beds. Here we had to share a room and bunk beds were the only things that fit in these rooms.

It was too cold in the bedrooms anyway, so the fold out couch in the living room was made up for the three girls so we could sleep in front of the only heat source in the house, the open fireplace.

The washing machine! This piece of machinery was from the dark ages. We\’d never seen anything like this thing that you washed in one side and spun the clothes in another compartment. Wash days now had to be planned and everyone got to pitch in.

Ocean Grove was a tiny town of around 4000. We had never experienced such things as a greengrocer or a butcher shop. Things were funny to others when we went into a fruit and vegetable shop and asked for ‘pepper\’. Mom had sent us to the store to get some black pepper and here was a guy trying to sell us a bell pepper (capsicum).

Every day brought some new experience. We had several days to explore our surroundings, including the beach and the rest of the little town. Our start at the new school was not a pleasant one for me. I\’d been in Junior High and my sister was in High School. Here we were all in the same school. Someone thought it was best to keep us three older ones together so effectively, my brother skipped a year.

Our previous schools seemed so grown up compared to this old fashioned one. The girls were separated from the boys until 4th form (10th grade) and still played jacks Ð or knuckles. Jump rope was still a favourite pastime for some. No make-up and you had to wear your hair tied back. Apparently the girls had only recently stopped wearing gloves and hats.

Dad was hired by the FORD factory as an engineer in Geelong, and would laugh about the tiny little engines made in Australia. Of course, referring to the large Chevrolet engines.

My pioneer father has now passed away and even till the day he died he never really answered our question of ‘why?\’ but we all know that it was the best thing he could have ever done for his family. And 37 years later we all call Australia ‘Home\’.

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