Hearing The Originals

Wednesday, December 17, 2025

My neighbor—professionally an engineering type—recently introduced me to his garage-based music studio. He and several long-time friends meet there every Friday night to play together. They don’t bother with advance planning; they simply gather and do.

The garage, a crowded but tidy man cave, half houses a skateboard collection, several motorcycles, and a pristine classic BMW convertible. The other half is filled with musical gear—guitars, a professional drum set, a keyboard, seating, and a large TV tuned to YouTube, making music videos instantly accessible. My neighbor says he’s felt intimately connected to music of all genres since he was a little boy.

I sat at the keyboard as he softly strummed a guitar, and we talked about music. I confessed—somewhat sadly—that I’ve fallen out of touch with much of today’s popular music. He queued up a few videos, introducing me to some of it. I was honest and explained that I’m a fan of what I call “the originals.” He understood immediately and shifted the screen to Louis Armstrong, singing alternately through his famous horn and his unmistakable voice. Then came Ella Fitzgerald, gently and passionately interpreting Summertime. We discovered that we share a love for a very modern original as well—Alison Krauss—and listened to her duet with Brad Paisley. Our wandering also touched briefly on cool jazz.

I keep myself too busy to pause and listen as often as I might wish. But after that evening, I revisited my old CD stacks from years of collecting and turned again to YouTube to hear artists I’ve loved for a long time. All of it stirred a familiar question: what is it that makes particular voices call to me so strongly—over equally talented and wildly popular newer artists?

I don’t consciously resist what’s new. Still, I find myself drawn back—almost involuntarily—to certain singers and musicians. Their work feels different, not just in style, but in kind. Especially the voices now gone: Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Nina Simone. Peggy Lee. Édith Piaf. Janis Joplin. Mama Cass. Amy Winehouse. And then there are current figures who still carry that same sense of singularity—Lady Gaga, Robert Plant, Alison Krauss, and a few others.

The word genre doesn’t help much. Jazz, blues, folk, pop, rock—the labels slide off what I’m trying to name. These artists don’t feel as though they belong to categories; instead, the categories seem to bend around them.

The same holds true for certain operatic voices that live vividly in my memory.

Perhaps what my favorite artists share isn’t an era, or even a particular sound. Maybe they share something closer to presence. When they sing—vocally or through an instrument—it feels as though something real is at stake. They aren’t merely performing a song; they seem to carry history, experience, contradiction, and truth all at once.

It’s striking, too, how many of these carrying voices are women’s. Not exclusively, of course—men like Sinatra and Nat King Cole clearly belong in this conversation. But with women, attention so often slides away from the work itself and toward their personal lives, their struggles, their supposed instabilities. Even celebrated women artists have rarely been allowed to remain simply artists. Their inner lives became public property, open to speculation, and too often eclipsed their undeniable musical intelligence.

I’m not going to look for neat answers to complex social realities here, and I’ll leave formal sociology aside. This is a more personal inquiry—an attempt to understand why certain musical patterns never release their hold on me.

Once I begin listening in this way, a much larger story presses in. Many of the voices that move me were shaped by what we now call American music—especially the blues and everything that grew from it—emerging from histories of profound suffering, endurance, and enforced silence. Acknowledging that responsibly requires slowing down, and resisting the urge to compress slavery, survival, and cultural inheritance into a paragraph or a slogan.

I’m not qualified to explain that essential history fully. Instead, I plan to begin here, at the edge of listening.

In future posts, I hope to explore this territory more carefully:
– what originality really sounds like
– why some voices can’t be replicated
– why genre so often fails to describe what moves us most
– and how social history—race, gender, power, visibility—shapes music and how we talk about it

This first post is simply a doorway—an acknowledgment that something important lives here, much like what keeps my neighbor’s Friday-night studio jams alive. And my growing wish to explore it deserves attention rather than speed.

For now, I’ll start listening again.

And I’m inviting you to listen with me.

— Diana

Clock Changes

Tuesday, February 25, 2025

I notice that Daylight Savings Time will start on March 9. I welcome the change.

Though any shift in time disrupts our internal rhythms, which are fundamentally tied to light and darkness, DST invites a sense of renewal. Longer days inspire our optimism by signaling the approach of warmer weather. The summer solstice becomes DST’s pinnacle as living moves outdoors and more activities flourish.

Opponents of clock-changing argue reasonably that the changes disrupt our sleep patterns. However, during DST months, the benefits of extra daylight in the evening overcome needing to adjust upon clock-changing. I agree with the folks wanting to make DST permanent instead of continuing to slip back and forth. DST is the best long-term solution.

Changing our clocks for DST and Standard Time is an outdated compromise between wanting morning and evening light. Changing to DST was introduced during WWI (1918) to reduce energy consumption. The idea was that less artificial lighting and heating in the evening would save fuel and electricity, and extending the morning light would help agri-workers.

Policymakers splitting the difference forced our biannual switching. Sure, standard time benefits farmers and early risers with maximized morning light. But DST benefits workers, businesses, and outdoor enthusiasts by keeping the evenings brighter for longer.

Many want our policymakers to choose one permanent system. I am on board with those who prefer DST.

Dear Friends: My semi-annual time-changing rant; there’ll be another on “the day.” Diana

Trailblazer

Saturday, February 22, 2025

I will write about Nina Simone, who just had a birthday.

I still love hearing her voice; there’s never been anyone like her, a force in music and activism. Simone was a trained classical pianist who blended jazz, blues, classical, and soul. Her singing voice communicated raw emotions and solid convictions.

You’d never a’thought she’d evolve into a fantastic artist. She was born into an impoverished household in 1933–her mom was a preacher, her dad a laborer, and both loved music. Simone’s mother took the baby regularly to church. As the story goes, Simone was about three years old when she managed to climb onto the organ seat and toy with the keys. Soon, she actually taught herself to play a church song. Soon, parishioners recognized her prodigious talent; and later, affluent individuals in the community recognized and paid for her outside music lessons.

Simone became classically trained and an outstanding student. Although she wanted a career in classical music, the racial barriers of her time pushed her toward jazz and blues. She worked in that arena to support herself while making an indelible musical mark.

Her piano style wasn’t just melody and rhythm; it was her powerful expression of personal and political views. Her song compositions, like Mississippi Goddam, To Be Young, Gifted and Black, and Four Women, were unapologetic about racism and injustice in the Civil Rights era. She captured its pain and resilience.

I used to listen to Simone’s singing voice channeling her deep emotions—distinctively communicating, delicately or thunderously. Her adoring fans made her a revered figure—”High Priestess of Soul.” Her music isn’t easily categorized because it isn’t simply about love, loss, and revolution.

She had a complex personal life–mental health challenges, financial difficulties, and brutal husbands. Her volatile temper alienated some and endeared her to others. Eventually, Simone became a world citizen who lived in various countries: Liberia, Switzerland, and France. She always was an enigmatic figure.

Simone died in 2003. Her musical influence continually grows as young generations discover (and cheer) her fearless artistry, outstanding musicianship, and commitment to justice. Her legacy is a “voice of truth.”

Dear Friends: Simone, a musical genius, is still “an original.” Diana

Winter’s Puzzle

Saturday, January 04, 2025

Yesterday was the first anniversary of a major ice storm here in Central Oregon. That storm kicked off months of freezing weather. I remember cold, cold, continuously, until almost the Summer Solstice.

It’s hard to believe this area can skip spring, but it does, and often enough that old timers have jokes (e.g., “Central Oregon has two seasons, Winter and the Fourth of July.”).

This winter’s Central Oregon weather seems almost like last year’s. Our weather remained relatively mild through the fall and winter’s dark months. Since I remember last year’s surprising freeze vividly, I worry about that in this early January.

Every morning, I anticipate being greeted by a hammering freeze, with that kind of weather continuing nearly unendingly. Today, the sun has begun rising beautifully in the east, and I’m reassured, at least somewhat, of relatively mild weather today.

I’ve lived in Central Oregon for twenty years and cared for horses. I’ve had real-time wintery experiences outside that are memorable–and proof of the old-timers’ observations being right-on.

Winter and the Fourth of July. So far this season, not enough winter. The coin has another equally worrisome side. Not enough winter means insufficient snow and inadequate water in the spring. Central Oregon needs big winters, especially now, with a growing population and increasing amenities.

Dear Friends: We need snow and ice and thus willingly cope through deep winters. Diana

A Nice Man

Monday, December 30, 2024

Today, I am thinking about Jimmy Carter, who became an American President out of the blue. He died yesterday at 100, less than a year after the death of Rosalyn, his spouse, business partner, and advisor for nearly 80 years. Unlike other Presidents, Carter (and Rosalyn) remained in the headlines throughout their long ex-presidency as socially conscious humanitarians and givers to communities.

Carter was a man for all seasons, an artist who wrote books, composed poetry, and created paintings. He also could work with his hands and helped to construct homes for Habitat for Humanity. Rosalyn worked alongside him, and their partnership was trusting.

One historical incident I’d change in a heartbeat (among many others!) would have been for Carter to have full credit for freeing the Iranian hostages. Reagan’s team scooped their release unfairly, and that stained Carter’s significance in freeing the Americans.

Carter’s humanitarianism taught us how greatly and actively he believed in the value of human life. He and Rosalyn worked to emphasize improving the lives of others and reducing suffering. They were driven by their sense of compassion, morality, and the wish to promote justice and equality.

The years following Carter’s presidency introduced significant changes to the world’s political and social institutions. Through all the changing elements, both Carters remained true to their core beliefs and traditions

Dear Friends: Another RIP to Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter. Diana

All In

Friday, December 20, 2024

Today is “ugly Christmas sweater day” at work. I’m unprepared because, in the first place, I mistakenly thought this was a day off work for me; in the second place, I wore my only ugly sweater last Friday, mistakenly thinking that was the official ugly sweater day, and wondering why others weren’t wearing noisy sweaters.

My ugly Christmas sweater is from last year’s Christmas selections. It’s a cautious sweater, neither particularly ugly nor attractive, and can sort of fit the bill. Some quick research taught me there is an official Ugly Sweater Day, the third Friday in December.

I searched for how to make my sweater uglier quickly this morning. I’d need a “microstitch gun,” which isn’t handy at home. Somehow, I’ll work this out, and one option would be using my glue gun to attach some of my Cockatoo’s shiny baubles to my not-yet-quite-ugly-enough sweater.

I grew up in a Jewish-oriented family without knowing ugly sweater routines. These days, however, working part-time in a retail store through Christmas has opened up more about this time of year for me.

The weeks leading up to Christmas are becoming tense from timelines for shopping, finding gifts, and selling. Those add up until everybody becomes weary. Ugly Christmas Sweaters are a fun celebration and an unconventional silly letting loose and enjoying the festive season.

Ugly Sweater Day reminds us not to take ourselves too seriously; it lets us express joy with a dose of humor. I will start preparing for next year by ordering a microstitch gun. I will get ready to participate today by taking some baubles from Peaches’ cage and going to look for my glue gun.

Dear Friends: Today, I’ll take photos and salute sweaters with creativity. Diana

Wintery

Wednesday, November 20, 2024

Our day with snow is history, and now the strong winds are visiting. And rainy days, too.

These are also shopping days. The department store where I work part-time has many customers inside, enjoying the beginning of Black Friday season. BF season will extend in our store to the day after Thanksgiving—the real Black Friday day. Theoretically, by then, merchandise would be well picked over, but since Christmas follows on BF’s heels, shelves will remain well-stocked.

I’m having fun at work among the season’s early shoppers, most of whom are in a good mood. They feel “ahead of the game” and are discovering preferable merchandise at discounted prices. Cold, wet, and windy weather helps businesses boom. People opting to be inside enhance the welfare of retailers by shopping.

In Central Oregon’s sharper weather, a comparatively large population opts instead to be outside. Many are skiers passionate about tackling the snow-packed Cascades. Others love treading deeply in the freezing landscapes to construct igloos and camp inside them.

Years ago, I opted to be outside more than inside during winter months. Almost daily (if temperatures weren’t under 30 degrees [so my fingers wouldn’t wholly freeze]), I rode on horseback. (Unshod horses find excellent footing in fresh snow and aren’t fazed by unexpected rain.) My dogs usually ran alongside and could stay with the action.

In inclement weather, horses and dogs are tolerant and hearty; they’re fabulous companions.

I have digressed again, this time from retail and Black Friday topics. Thinking about winter weather and enjoying pleasant memories made me do it.

Here’s one of my favorite images from past winters. My calm Sunni is in a snowstorm.

Dear Friends: Have a beautiful day. Diana

As To Light

Sunday, November 17, 2024

The recent one-hour fall-back time change still confuses me. It’s about the light, stupid! There’s little daylight as I’m leaving my part-time job in the afternoons around four o’clock, and it’s dead-dark as I’m feeding my horses around five-thirty. Making matters worse, I sense it’s bedtime around seven o’clock.

None of that’s new; sudden light changes have happened again and again, year after year. I anticipate being equally confused about changing light months from now when we spring ahead. It’s a syndrome of “light angst” caused by manufactured conditions.

When did time-changing start?

It’s about daylight savings time (DST), turning back the clocks, first occurring in the U.S. in 1918, during World War I. The objective of extending daylight was to aid combat efforts. DST was repealed soon after that War, but revived during World War II and continued since.

Why do time changes continue?

Extending daylight into the evening theoretically reduces the need for artificial lighting and saves energy. Maximizing daylight hours was considered beneficial for productivity and military operations during wartime. Some arguments for extending daylight are how it assists with energy conservation, wartime efforts, economic benefits, and public safety.

Those favoring DST claim that extended daylight hours boost retail sales and outdoor recreational industries. Others claim that longer outdoor visibility reduces traffic accidents and crime rates.

In the continuing debate, what’s happening now?

DST is controversial, with ongoing debates about its benefits and drawbacks. Some (including me) argue that it disrupts sleep patterns and causes confusion. Some say those factors negatively impact health. Several American States have abolished DST, but most others continue to use it.

Aside from ongoing mega-talking, nothing indicates a reasonably soon ending to our semi-annual clock turnings.

Dear Friends: Anyway, earlier daylight lets me be outside now, feeding my horses. Diana

Planning Ahead

Tuesday, September 17, 2024

Yesterday was a day off from my part-time job, a tiring day that kept me busy. I cleaned the house, dragged the dry lot, handled laundry, dusted hardwood floors, and cared for critters. Soon after the dogs’ dinnertime, this household went beddy-bye.

Today is my back-to-work day. I’m scheduled for the closing shift and will get home late this evening when the September Moon is at its fullest. Then, I intend to take a camera to my property’s highest peak. I want to photograph the bright orb, showing a spread of tree branches framing its light. I anticipate the camera’s “moon setting” to clarify each component, making all visible in captures.

Here’s a sketch of an image I dream of capturing. Of course, it’s unmatchable, mostly because of my primitive eye and photography equipment and also because my shooting location will limit my opportunities. Yet, my goal is to capture the bright object way in space with what’s nearby, as in this arrangement.

That planned, not much around here ever happens easily and straightforwardly. Before I can be out shooting the moon, my equines must eat, and my Pimmy must accept her meds.

Over the next two months, Pimmy will receive quarter doses of Cushing’s medication and will graduate to half doses. At that time, she’ll receive another blood draw. If all looks well, she will be started on daily full-pill dosages.

The problems with providing the (one and only) Cushings medication are its odor and terrible taste. Equines can smell the medication and avoid allowing it in their mouths.

I remind myself not to borrow trouble by focusing on handling the baby steps. So far, I’m getting Pimmy to accept a daily quarter-pill buried in a drilled carrot. Next week, we will start working toward her accepting a daily half-pill. Maybe the carrot idea will keep working.

The point is to avoid worrying about getting her to accept a whole pill before its time comes.

Several years back, someone told me that the trouble of a horse coming to stay with you is that it stays for a l-o-n-g time. That’s true, and B-T-W, a donkey stays longer. However, there are worthwhile upsides to keeping the big animals. They offer fun and exercise, increase our attention and awareness of the surroundings, and by interacting with them, we become more self-enlightened.

Dear Friends: More again after my moon-capturing adventure this evening. Diana

Murky Waters

Wednesday, July 31, 2024

I struggle to understand some commonly expressed views in today’s world. I believe there are great benefits from formal higher education, but I often gather that young people today see no value in attending college.

Recently, I became interested in a colleague at work. She’s in her mid-twenties and is very bright, and I enjoy hearing her explain some elements of retail selling. I stumbled into learning that she sees no reason to get a higher education because “that’s useless today.”

I learned long ago the value of formal learning: it enlarges perspectives and influences social and workplace opportunities. I wanted to “play it forward” by encouraging my young colleague to explore college learning, and instead, I quickly raised her fighting spirit. Our discussion went nowhere, at least from my point of view. We dropped the topic, for continuing to push it would reduce our now mutual trust.

I think encouraging an individual upon recognizing potential can feel frightening to a recipient who lacks the strength of genuine self-confidence. Adding to that is what’s gathered in the air and through the tea leaves, so to speak, or the contemporary social influence in general.

In a very different social atmosphere, long ago, I responded to a co-worker who said I was bright and suggested I take college courses. The idea of higher learning frightened my timid self; I resisted but somehow understood that higher learning supported personal strength and independence. Finally, enrolling in a college-level course, I gained respect from a strict teacher and earned an A. I’ve always been grateful to my co-worker, who encouraged me to attend college, which rewarded me with an interesting career.

I wish a similar journey for my intelligent young co-worker. Today, these times and social pressures are different from my own experience. My best plan is to hope that eventually, in some way, she will re-raise the topic of higher education.

Dear Friends: Navigating social situations is knowing an ever-changing social landscape. Diana