Exactly thirty years ago, this morning, at 10.30am, on Wednesday 5th May 1993, our father Willie Burns, was suddenly taken away. Leaving us stunned and shaken. It was a bright,cloudless spring morning and what should have been a routine mid-week working day will forever be remembered as the moment our world came crashing down.
He was only sixty and a half, very active and in the middle a repair job in his workshop... when he collapsed without warning, suffering a massive heart attack. He died within the hour in the Western Isles Hospital. We still grieve and miss him so... He still had much to give. It will always hurt and I will always find it virtually impossible to think of thirty years without him or imagining him having grown old.
Time, did as it always does, left our loved one back in the moment when he past. Time, it does not soften, it does not heal, it merely takes us further away from that terrible moment of loss.
This a time to remember a very special person and reflect. He was a positive man and would prefer to be remembered in a happy positive and constructive way. So as every year I steal a few silent minutes on my own... and then get on with the chores of the day.
In quiet reflection of William Burns, Marine Engineer, 3rd November 1932 - 5th May 1993.
KB
Friday, 5 May 2023
Monday, 1 May 2023
In memory of my great-aunt, Peggy Ann
Yes indeed this is a profoundly sad story. It needed to be told at this time a century on. It is a vital part of my maternal grandfather's family history, it was told to me when I was a child, by my Dear Mother. I have since researched and gathered more information on that history.
Today, 1st May, would have been Peggy Ann's birthday.
Sadly the nature of history is retrospective and the individuals it relates to are often no longer around to tell or respond to what we might wish to know. It is also important, while studying, interpreting and transcribing to use factual information and not conjecture. But by all accounts the loss of these two sisters Mary and Margaret ("Peggy") Ann, in their twenties, at 1 Dalbeg, in 1923, had an understandably devastating effect on their siblings. Four brothers John Angus, Murdo, Kenneth and John, and two sisters Dolina and Catriona. Their sisters who died so young were fondly remembered and the memories were passed on throughout the years. I learnt of this sad story as a young child, from my own Dear Mother Barbara, who had been told of it by her father Kenneth, who died when she was ten years old.
Now the naming of children has always been important, especially as a way of commemorating relatives. It is my understanding that in island communities there is an established custom of naming children after or in honour of recently lost close relatives, (I do know that my grandfather, who I am proud to be named in honour of, was indeed named after his uncle Kenneth who died aged twenty-eight years in1892). I have been told that my grandfather Kenneth MacLeod and my granny Barbara MacNair, made it known that he wished his eldest daughters my twin aunties to be named Mary and Peggy, directly in honour of his young sisters. Eldest brother John Angus and his wife Jessie Nicolson's family were a little older. Murdo had no family. But it does become evident that the others also wished to name daughters in honour of their two sisters. John and his wife Mary Murray's , eldest daughter was born in 1923, and named Peggy Ann and his youngest daughter was named Mary. The youngest sister Catriona "Codaidh" and her husband Malcolm MacArthur named their eldest daughter Peggy Ann, and younger daughter Mary.
I knew Auntie Codaidh, she was exactly the same age as my granny Barbara, they had been close friends since early childhood and gone to the Shawbost Primary School. She would visit us and we would often visit her in her home in Upper Carloway and latterly when she moved to Stornoway, before she passed away in 1989. She loved to reminisce and had clear memories of her lost sisters, whom she did speak of quite often. She also had a good knowledge of the history of the family, going back many generations. One day when we were visiting she actually wrote out the precise dates of birth of all her siblings. My mother gave this list to me before she passed away, and it is now a much valued item.
Dolina, and her husband Murdo MacIver, did name their eldest daughter Mary , though not necessarily after the lost sister Mary as there were paternal grannies and great-grannies named Mary. Their, second daughter, was Catherine Margaret Ann, who sadly passed away only very recently. I do not believe that I am in a position to say, others may certainly know better than me, if her last two Christian names were in honour of the other lost sister Margaret Ann.
Catherine Margaret Ann and my mum Barbara, were first cousins, and the family connection was very strong and lovingly kept. In all there were twenty first cousins, fourteen girls and six boys, none of whom knew the two aunties who passed away so tragically in 1923. I was brought up to know the connections and keep them going. Then as I got older I became increasingly more interested in the history of the family and have over the years made quite an extensive and on going research. I wanted to tell the story of those two girls who died in Dalbeg, a century ago, before every vestige of them goes without trace. This is a good time to tell it.
KB.
Today, 1st May, would have been Peggy Ann's birthday.
Sadly the nature of history is retrospective and the individuals it relates to are often no longer around to tell or respond to what we might wish to know. It is also important, while studying, interpreting and transcribing to use factual information and not conjecture. But by all accounts the loss of these two sisters Mary and Margaret ("Peggy") Ann, in their twenties, at 1 Dalbeg, in 1923, had an understandably devastating effect on their siblings. Four brothers John Angus, Murdo, Kenneth and John, and two sisters Dolina and Catriona. Their sisters who died so young were fondly remembered and the memories were passed on throughout the years. I learnt of this sad story as a young child, from my own Dear Mother Barbara, who had been told of it by her father Kenneth, who died when she was ten years old.
Now the naming of children has always been important, especially as a way of commemorating relatives. It is my understanding that in island communities there is an established custom of naming children after or in honour of recently lost close relatives, (I do know that my grandfather, who I am proud to be named in honour of, was indeed named after his uncle Kenneth who died aged twenty-eight years in1892). I have been told that my grandfather Kenneth MacLeod and my granny Barbara MacNair, made it known that he wished his eldest daughters my twin aunties to be named Mary and Peggy, directly in honour of his young sisters. Eldest brother John Angus and his wife Jessie Nicolson's family were a little older. Murdo had no family. But it does become evident that the others also wished to name daughters in honour of their two sisters. John and his wife Mary Murray's , eldest daughter was born in 1923, and named Peggy Ann and his youngest daughter was named Mary. The youngest sister Catriona "Codaidh" and her husband Malcolm MacArthur named their eldest daughter Peggy Ann, and younger daughter Mary.
I knew Auntie Codaidh, she was exactly the same age as my granny Barbara, they had been close friends since early childhood and gone to the Shawbost Primary School. She would visit us and we would often visit her in her home in Upper Carloway and latterly when she moved to Stornoway, before she passed away in 1989. She loved to reminisce and had clear memories of her lost sisters, whom she did speak of quite often. She also had a good knowledge of the history of the family, going back many generations. One day when we were visiting she actually wrote out the precise dates of birth of all her siblings. My mother gave this list to me before she passed away, and it is now a much valued item.
Dolina, and her husband Murdo MacIver, did name their eldest daughter Mary , though not necessarily after the lost sister Mary as there were paternal grannies and great-grannies named Mary. Their, second daughter, was Catherine Margaret Ann, who sadly passed away only very recently. I do not believe that I am in a position to say, others may certainly know better than me, if her last two Christian names were in honour of the other lost sister Margaret Ann.
Catherine Margaret Ann and my mum Barbara, were first cousins, and the family connection was very strong and lovingly kept. In all there were twenty first cousins, fourteen girls and six boys, none of whom knew the two aunties who passed away so tragically in 1923. I was brought up to know the connections and keep them going. Then as I got older I became increasingly more interested in the history of the family and have over the years made quite an extensive and on going research. I wanted to tell the story of those two girls who died in Dalbeg, a century ago, before every vestige of them goes without trace. This is a good time to tell it.
KB.
Wednesday, 26 April 2023
The SS Metagama Also Came Back
We have been commemorating the centenary of that most historic day, 21st April 1923, when the SS Metagama, the huge liner which came to take 260 mostly young men and women away from their homes in Lewis.
I have been thinking and reflecting on what it must have been really like for our community of that time still struggling to come to terms with the tragic impact of the losses and effects of The Great War and HMY Iolaire.
There would, no doubt, have been a great amount of excitement and anticipation amongst the young people embarking on such a new future, and an equal amount of sadness and sense of loss amongst those they were leaving behind. There would also have been a tender understanding by the older generations of the oppertunity that might be offered by such a departure. Every emotion of migration would have been expressed. An event of such a scale would have had a huge and imediate impact on the community, the effects of which could only be long lasting. I have been thinking and reflecting on its effects on that community and indeed on my own family and relatives. Through some research a very sad and poignant story was revealed and I would now like to tell it.
SS Metagama did not just sail from Scotland to Canada. She also made return voyages across the Atlantic. On the 3rd June 1922, my great-aunt, Mary Rennick (nee) MacLeod, departed Montreal in Canada on board the SS Metagama. She was the sister of my maternal grandfather Kenneth Macleod. Mary was headed back to Scotland to visit her family, but would never return to Canada. On 31st December 1923, she passed away at 1 Dalbeg.
Mary was born on 10th June 1896 at 50 North Shawbost, the eldest daughter of Malcolm MacLeod (Calum, Dhòmhnall, 'ic Mhurchaid / Buicean) and Kennethina Murray (Ceanag, Aonghais, Choinnich, Aonghais Gobha). After war ended in 1918, Mary met an American serviceman, Private George William Rennick. The pair married on 6th May 1919 in Glasgow. The ceremony was performed at 19 Howard Street, warranted by the Sheriff Substitute of Lanarkshire, in the presence of Police Constable Roderick Smith and domestic servant Effie MacKay. George was a chauffeur in civilian life,the son of Harry Rennick (a fisherman, by then deceased) and Mary. His mother had remarried after his father died, and was by that time Mrs Cooke.
Four months after their wedding, Mary and George left Scotland on 15th September 1919 and arrived at Detroit ten days later. They lived at 1264 Belvedere Avenue, Detroit, for nearly three years. By all accounts, Mary contracted TB and wanted to return to Scotland to visit her family.
Mary applied to the authorities in Washington DC for a new passport. On the application, dated 23rd May 1922, she declared that she was going abroad temporarily and would return within two years. The photograph with the passport application, as displayed at the top of this post, shows her looking unwell. It appears that she was suffering from tuberculosis since before leaving North America.
I copy the description on her passport application:
| Age: | 22 |
| Stature: | 5 ft 2 |
| Forehead: | Low |
| Eyes: | Brown |
| Nose: | Small |
| Mouth: | Small |
| Chin: | Narrow |
| Hair: | Dark brown |
| Complexion: | Light |
| Face: | Small |
| A small scar between the nostrils. |
Mary departed Montreal for Greenock on board SS Metagama on 3rd June 1922. She then returned to Lewis, to be with her family.
All through my life I have heard of the truly sad story of this young relative of mine, whose voyage back home to Lewis could not have been sadder or unlike her peers'. Those young people who were so filled with excitement and expectation, as they gathered, in Stornoway. Then got ready to set off to board the same SS Metagama to cross the Atlantic to Canada. That day exactly one century ago. By contrast, Mary’s story was very different.
As I researched her short life, it became clear that her experience in North America was far from a happy one. That return home, on her own, to her family, would be marked by tradgedy and grief. Both Mary and a younger sister Margaret Ann (“Maggie Ann”or “Peggi Ann”) were ill with TB. Their illnesses were apparently, unconnected and contracted at different times. Then for nearly a year the sisters nursed each other at their family home, at 1 Dalbeg. At that time people referred to the extremely moving and sad scene of the two beautiful sisters caring for each other there. The family had moved from North Shawbost, early in 1922, it was evidently not to be a happy home. Maggie Ann passed away on 11th May 1923, she was twenty-one years old. Mary passed away seven months later on 31st December 1923, she was twenty-seven years old.
In the next decades, Mary and Margaret Ann’s brothers and sisters married and raised a family. In each family that followed, the first two daughters were named in remembrance of the tragic sisters who died in 1923.
Sunday, 12 March 2023
My parents' 65th wedding anniversary
My mother Barbara, often told us how our father Willie and his two brothers had to clear snow and ice from the steps and entrance of the church, that morning.
Saturday, 11 March 2023
P1 at Sandwickhill
This photograph brought back so many memories for me and I thought I would share it. I am happy to say I know and remember everyone in this picture, and can even name them all. I now look forward to seeing the response, memories and comments.
Saturday, 4 March 2023
4th March 2023
Well it has been a couple of months since I last expressed my thoughts and feelings here. A couple of cold, dark and wet months of a winter that is now moving behind us and making way for the time of reviving and renewal, with longer and brighter days, we welcome Spring. Sun at dawn to break our day. There can be nothing quite like sunshine in the morning to lift the spirit and encourage us to remember the wonder of nature and joy of living. Indeed we must catch these moments of brightness and savour them as they arise. There is so much benefit to be gained to our health and well being simply walking in the sun shine. This is sadly often lacking in our part of the world where our climate results in winters that seem to stretch and linger, such days are dark and dull. I believe this does contribute to our outlook and approach to life. We become focused on our climate and the weather. It's adversity dominates and dictates what and how we do things. We become preoccupied with defending against the prevailing wind and rain. Of course inevitably becoming the prime topic of our conversation. Now, I remember when I lived in Italy, back in those halcyon days after art school, there every day was reliably warm and dry. Meaning, simple things like deciding what to wear, each day, was easy, as each day was predictably good and pleasant. It never ceases to amaze me that when the weather is always good, with little or no variation, no-one needs to make any reference to the climatic conditions. People do not comment on the condition of the weather and other forms of ice breaking chat get deployed. I certainly loved my time there, and would go back in an instant. But I know I occasionally yearned for dramatic variation in the clear blue of the sky or warm dryness of each day.
The cheering aspect of a simple sunny day must never be underestimated, it is such a fundamental element of our lives and vital when we are presented with the sadness that constantly seems to follow us all as we progress in years. I am looking forward to the Spring and hoping that there will be some settled climatic conditions, to actually get back out in my garden and watch the wonder of nature's renewal, regrowth and recovery. What greater gift can there be?...All things bright and beautiful...
A gentle reflection on Saturday 4th March 2023.
KB
The cheering aspect of a simple sunny day must never be underestimated, it is such a fundamental element of our lives and vital when we are presented with the sadness that constantly seems to follow us all as we progress in years. I am looking forward to the Spring and hoping that there will be some settled climatic conditions, to actually get back out in my garden and watch the wonder of nature's renewal, regrowth and recovery. What greater gift can there be?...All things bright and beautiful...
A gentle reflection on Saturday 4th March 2023.
KB
Tuesday, 3 January 2023
3rd January 2023
As the 2022 Christmas Holiday now passes and we are looking to and hoping for a better, healthier and happier year ahead, in 2023... I feel my usual yearning for the brighter and more active days of spring. It is driven by a deep passion to get creative again (for me that would be drawing, painting, writing, gardening, cooking, designing, even thinking!). In the positive knowledge that there is an inherent healing to be gained in the natural cycle of living. Soon the sap will be rising in the trees and the leaf buds preparing for capturing the extra sun light. But equally soon, possibly sooner our lives will need to begin the return to the labours and endeavours of so called normality. We need to be optimistic when looking to the future. I know only too well the effort that this entails. As the last couple of years have certainly been a challenge of sadness and loss, for myself and many people for whom I care.
The festive holiday that now passes into it's own history, actually marked the fiftieth that our family has had in this home, in Newton Street, Stornoway. The place is a considerably quieter one now. Our parents thrived on the hospitality of the season, the extra place setting at the table was always filled. There was a constant fire crackling in the hearth and the oven yielded a continuing production of roasts, vegetables and fresh festive baking. There was music, voice and merriment... But, sadly, it no longer heaves with such partying. I well remember these parties and the happy people who enjoyed them through the years. Perhaps, who knows, I might yet regain the energy required to celebrate future anniversaries, events and parties. I also thrive on same hospitality given by my parents.
As I reflect on this festive holiday, I am reminded of another, equally full of hope. On this day six years ago, 3rd January 2017, I left the warmth and comfort of my Dear Mother's home to head back to my Glasgow flat for the last time. There with the help of two of my brother's and nephews, I began the task of finally clearing that old place. It had been my home and studio of work for almost forty years. Just as our parents had in Stornoway, my Glasgow home was one of hospitality. Over the years I held lots of parties and welcomed many guests. The table was served with the same traditional extra setting, it was also always filled. But despite all these years I never actually spent a Christmas Day there, I always returned to sit at that special dinner with my Dear Mother. On my very last day, in that old flat, Friday 20th January 2017, everything and everybody gone, I was left completely on my own. Prior to handing the keys to the estate agent, for the new owner. I quietly stole a most precious moment, to wander through those empty rooms, which seemed so filled with the sound of friendly laughter and familiar voice. As my head cleared, I stepped over the threshold and gently pulled the eight foot door shut, then turned the lock for my last time. One era, with all it's memories had just past, almost symbolically and I was keen to move swiftly on to my next. The following day I returned to Stornoway, this had long been planned and I happily embraced my future. So many aspects have indeed been and continue to be bright and wonderful. Such a thought actually keeps me going...
Here's to the future, here's to 2023.
Reflections of this time of year, Tuesday 3rd January 2023
KB
The festive holiday that now passes into it's own history, actually marked the fiftieth that our family has had in this home, in Newton Street, Stornoway. The place is a considerably quieter one now. Our parents thrived on the hospitality of the season, the extra place setting at the table was always filled. There was a constant fire crackling in the hearth and the oven yielded a continuing production of roasts, vegetables and fresh festive baking. There was music, voice and merriment... But, sadly, it no longer heaves with such partying. I well remember these parties and the happy people who enjoyed them through the years. Perhaps, who knows, I might yet regain the energy required to celebrate future anniversaries, events and parties. I also thrive on same hospitality given by my parents.
As I reflect on this festive holiday, I am reminded of another, equally full of hope. On this day six years ago, 3rd January 2017, I left the warmth and comfort of my Dear Mother's home to head back to my Glasgow flat for the last time. There with the help of two of my brother's and nephews, I began the task of finally clearing that old place. It had been my home and studio of work for almost forty years. Just as our parents had in Stornoway, my Glasgow home was one of hospitality. Over the years I held lots of parties and welcomed many guests. The table was served with the same traditional extra setting, it was also always filled. But despite all these years I never actually spent a Christmas Day there, I always returned to sit at that special dinner with my Dear Mother. On my very last day, in that old flat, Friday 20th January 2017, everything and everybody gone, I was left completely on my own. Prior to handing the keys to the estate agent, for the new owner. I quietly stole a most precious moment, to wander through those empty rooms, which seemed so filled with the sound of friendly laughter and familiar voice. As my head cleared, I stepped over the threshold and gently pulled the eight foot door shut, then turned the lock for my last time. One era, with all it's memories had just past, almost symbolically and I was keen to move swiftly on to my next. The following day I returned to Stornoway, this had long been planned and I happily embraced my future. So many aspects have indeed been and continue to be bright and wonderful. Such a thought actually keeps me going...
Here's to the future, here's to 2023.
Reflections of this time of year, Tuesday 3rd January 2023
KB
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