I can’t be alone in being curious about the people behind the name plaques on the many memorial benches situated around Aberdeen and beyond.
For me, a quest to uncover these life stories of loss and love began last summer, when I first moved to the city.
I was walking my dog by the River Don when I became curiously moved by one very ordinary, isolated bench, carrying the words “Billy and Dos Catto – together again 2006”.
The bench itself has seen better days. Located in a spot popular with young people and wild swimmers, it now bears graffiti as well as a cherished plaque.
But, the beautiful location had me imagining a couple, perhaps sitting holding hands, watching seals swimming by, or paddleboarders making the most of the calm waters. Could they have lived one of life’s great love stories? Did they meet there as teenagers, then spend their retirement in the same place?
Perhaps the ordinary bench represented lives much less so.
How the quest began
I then began searching online, trying to find out about these two people. One blog suggested Billy and Dos Catto were a couple, now reunited in heaven. Another surmised it was two brothers.
As the months went on, I found myself researching the names carried on dozens of these seats – some on the Beach Esplanade, some in parks and school yards.
I’ve been able to tell stories of teenagers who lost their lives in tragic accidents, understanding that it matters not that these horrific events occurred many years ago – they represent stories of lives lived. And, if a live was lived, a life was loved; worth just as much now as ever it was.
It was my honour to tell the story of the Bremners, a beautiful Aberdeen couple who have a bench in their memory on the Esplanade, where they took the kids, rain, hail or shine.
A place to remember romance
I also uncovered the romantic story behind Alan Collie Singer’s bench.
Born on May 14, 1950, his parents were Norman Collie Wilkins Singer, a Co-op grocer, and his wife, Isabella Cameron Singer.
He attended Broomhill, then Ruthrieston School, and was in the Boys’ Brigade before becoming a salesman. He later worked for First Bus for 25 years, before Parkinson’s disease meant he had to retire.
However, it’s is bench’s location that melted my heart. The spot is situated just above the rocks where Alan proposed to his future wife.
Who doesn’t want to hear that story? What a tonic for the cynical, discontented and wintry days ahead.
What did these lives entail?
I actually don’t remember a time when I wasn’t curious about the stories behind the names etched on memorial benches.
I remained curious about what each of these names, dotted across every village, town and city in Scotland, represented
As a little girl, I would ask my Papa to tell me about “Jack Gordon” or “Ina Steele”, or whoever’s name we would cover up by sitting on their special seat.
Tall tales would follow. “Oh Jack Gordon. He invented cheese and onion crisps,” he’d say, and, of course, I would believe every word.
As I got older, however, I remained curious about what each of these names, dotted across every village, town and city in Scotland, represented. It’s probably why I jumped at the chance to become The Press and Journal’s obituary writer, too.
On the same river walk where I first encountered the Cattos’ special place sits another seat, this time dedicated to Ronnie Morrison.
I’ve dreamed up an amazing life for Ronnie, whose inscription gives away that he was both a proud “Aberdeen Loon”, as well as a “Stornoway Cove”.
I have an affinity with him, actually, despite his real story being as yet unknown to me.
Just like Ron, Aberdeen is my home, too, though a piece of me lies somewhere else. I wonder if I’ll be eulogised as someone greatly missed, like he is? I wonder what this Lewis man’s life entailed?
Will you help me?
As my research continues, I hope to uncover more and more of these wonderful tales.
The closest I have come, personally, was finding my Papa’s old season ticket seat in the grounds of Fir Park stadium. I wept silently, remembering him sitting there in his very favourite place, watching the ‘Well.
But, I’d also love to bring the memories of Mary Ann and Arthur Fraser McKenzie back to life. Their names grace a seat near Footdee. Or Bunty Walls, a beloved great grandmother whose memorial sits in Victoria Park. Or the many, many others so greatly treasured that they have a lasting place in our city.
In truth, I miss my people. All the ones who have gone before. And I wish I’d had the foresight to place benches in their favourite places.
Grief is so difficult, and I understand the need to keep some of these precious stories private. However, if you’d like me to tell the story of a bench special to you, drop me a line at lindsay.bruce@ajl.co.uk – it would be my honour.
Lindsay Bruce is obituaries writer for The Press and Journal and Evening Express, as well as an author and speaker
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