Susan Osborn’s music is magical | Letter

About 15 years ago my wife and I decided to spend Christmas on Orcas Island.

We arrived on Christmas Eve and while checking into our cozy little cabin were given some free passes to a Christmas concert happening that evening.

We drove through a forest of evergreens on a moonlit, slippery gravel road to a dirt lot where an attendant directed us to park. We opened our car door to the sound of bagpipes floating in from a neighboring field. Walking out of the parking lot, we could see a small, white Victorian style chapel at the bottom of a winding lane bordered with luminaries. There was a yellow glow emanating from it’s tall, slender windows and entrance doors. We couldn’t see the piper, but his music filled the air as we strolled down the hill toward the chapel. Inside, a narrow center isle was flanked by several rows of long pews filled with thickly bundled, mostly local folks of all ages. Overhead, the walls were lined with candle sconces and evergreen and holly branches.

Suddenly the pipes got increasingly louder from behind the closed doors of the sanctuary and John Newton’s, “Amazing Grace” resonated through our bones as the doors were slowly pulled open and the angelic presence of a smiling Susan Osborn stood before us; the piper finishing the song just a few steps behind her before turning around and exiting the chapel. A few seconds of total, rapt silence, then Susan sang the words of the beloved hymn without accompaniment.

For nearly 25 years, this Orcas Island native and former vocalist for the Paul Winter Consort has celebrated Christmas and the coming of winter with this traditional holiday concert. Susan proceeded to mesmerize with her amazing, operatic, soprano voice leading us in song, sharing stories of her family, her life as well as traditional holiday folklore.

We left the chapel that evening transfixed to an earlier century, to a simpler, less complicated era and an even greater appreciation for the power of song and tradition.

It was a wonderful holiday memory.

Larry Murante

West Seattle