Maria Rosa (Rosina) Paolucci

Story

Like all immmigrants from Europe immediately after WW2 my parents sought a better life by seeking immigration to the New World. My beloved mother was a simple woman from a small Italian town of Cesena, Italy. She often told me that when she immigrated they told her she was going to Australia. She thought they meant Austria. Little did she know that she was travelling more than 12,000 kilometres instead of a just a short jump over the border of Italy to Austria. Quite a suprise!

She travelled on board the M/V Australia with me, her only son of about 9 months. the voyage was uneventful and all my mother was looking forward to was being re-united with my father and beloved, Emilio, who had immigrated the year before with his brother, Egisto, his wife, Pierina and their children and my cousins Mila, 5 years and Marco, 4 years.

They quickly settled in Melbourne which even back then had a thriving immigrant community. Carlton had a thriving Italian population and like all immigrants they made the best of what they had. My mother had a native cunning and a fantastic sense of humour with a fear of no one. She kept our family and friends absolutely amused with stories of trying to be understood through the language barrier. Back then olive oil was not in the plentiful supply that today brings. She and my auntie, Pierina would go to the chemist to get as much olive oil as they could because in those days it was kept for medicinal purposes only. She often wondered what the Aussie Chemist thought these people did with so much olive oil. Once my mother had to act out scenes of mime to make the chemist understand that my father was constipated and needed a laxative. Her acting skills were Oscaresque! During the Olympics in Melbourne my mother, a tall athletic woman, with my auntie, Pierina, a small petite beauty where in Myers store, window shopping (money was scarse). They were walking around the store eating an ice cream and speaking their native tongue when suddenly they were mobbed by people with autograph books thrusting before their faces. My mother yelled to my auntie, “Pierina, throw away the ice cream” and both began signing their names in as many books as they could. Their 15 minutes of fame came as the people around them thought as my mother said that she was probably a shot putter and my more petite auntie a gymnast, there in Melbourne for the Olympics. Even after 40 years my mother had limited English and when she was asked by old Australians how long she had arrived in the country she would constantly lie “No too long, maybe 5 years” to hide her embarasment of not having learned the language because she worked and lived always with fellow Italians. Although we as a family returned to Italy when I was 12 years old due to my grandmother being sick, I had no future as I was an Australian and they returned to Australia to give their son a chance for a better life. This was a fantastic sacrifice that many immigrant families did for the sake of their children and the bridge is a great way to commemorate the bravery of these immigrants from all cultures. Their Aussie kids salute them.

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