they moved forward
leaving war torn europe
to a land of no olive oil
no wine
no garlic
no family
no one
it was safe with good weather
no bosch hiding in the bushes
fresh air space and beautiful beaches
like being on holidays
you did not have to be wealthy
to live near the sea back then
memories
of two sweet people
with their rimless specs
hunched over a newspaper
struggling
teaching themselves english
they would not have passed the
current citizenship test
(i don't think I would pass it even now
would fail the sports section :)
and our family would not be here
so eventually we all came along
generation after generation
little aussies in the making
wearing akubras and r m williams boots
rejecting the old music and ways
not realising at the time that
even with our blue eyes
fair skin and blonde hair
(no one ever called us wogs)
we will always
be different
feel different
think different
our forefathers
never leave us
they whisper in our ears
sing lovely corny french songs to us
forever
Weekly Scribblings # 92 PSU
Earthweal Open Link Weekend # 89
Not a drop of French in me as far as I know, but I love Tino Rossi myself. Also Charles Trenet. And Edith Piaf. And Juliet Greco....
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this tender reminiscence. (And I probably wouldn't pass the sports section of the citizenship test myself.)
What a beautiful tribute to your ancestors.
ReplyDeleteIs there really a sports section of the citizenship test? XD
This is lovely ~ especially the whispers in our ears.
ReplyDeleteA touching family history of changes through the generations, while still retaining some of the "old world" history.
ReplyDeleteOur roots do stay attached, even when their presence aren't evident on the leaves. Sometimes, that isn't the best thing. But when we make it so, it is the very best.
ReplyDeleteI like this, it brings memories. Mine came from England, Isle of Man, and Germany. Possibly a few others not in the male lines. We have a mysterious Smith lady who may have been in the Hapsburg line.
ReplyDeleteTwo other thoughts, my grandparents wore wire rimmed glasses, and that all of us have migrated ancestors except for those of us who remain with pure indigenous blood lines.
..
A tender immigrant song. Its so ironic that the earlier immigrants would judge the later one. Some thing happens here in the U.S. - Brendan
ReplyDeleteA lovely tribute. My father's maternal grandparents came from Lithuania. His grandfather was a lieutenant in the Czar's army. He and his brothers fled Russia with bullets being fired at them as they jumped on the boat.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful memories, words and music! What an adventure. It's strange enough being a Brit in Europe...
ReplyDeleteWhere are you living?
ReplyDeleteWe are all visitors, i think ~
ReplyDeleteI love "our forefathers never leave us"....I can almost hear their whispers. This is a wonderful poem of remembering. I can see them, hunched over the newspaper.
ReplyDeleteAncestors only whisper to those who can listen.
ReplyDelete