I try to study the background of the country I am in and what

The words of Betty Wright—“I try to study the background of the country I am in and what were my hits there, so I can at least give them some of what they want. It's like a wedding—give them something old, something new, something borrowed and definitely something blue!”—reveal the wisdom of a performer who understands the sacred exchange between artist and audience. She compares her craft to a wedding, that timeless ritual of union, for both demand harmony between tradition and surprise, between the familiar and the fresh. Just as a bride carries something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, so must the artist weave memory and novelty to satisfy the hearts of those who gather.

Her words show reverence for the background of the country, for the artist who studies the people she serves becomes not a stranger, but a guest honoring the customs of her hosts. To know what songs have already touched their hearts and to gift them again is to acknowledge their history. To add something new is to carry them forward. To lend the borrowed is to share the universality of music. And the blue, the note of soul and longing, ensures the performance is not mere entertainment, but an echo of human truth.

History recalls the figure of Homer, who sang not only of new tales but of stories his listeners already knew—of gods, of heroes, of battles fought long ago. His genius lay not in inventing alone but in weaving the familiar with new meaning, so that his listeners felt both the comfort of recognition and the thrill of discovery. In the same way, Wright teaches that an artist must balance the expectations of the audience with the offering of her own evolving spirit.

The metaphor of the wedding is powerful because it unites personal celebration with communal participation. A wedding belongs to two souls, yet it gathers the hopes, songs, and traditions of entire families. So too a concert belongs to the singer, yet it is shaped by the people who come to witness it. Both ceremonies—love and performance—require a balance of self-expression and selflessness, giving joy not only to the participants but to the whole assembly.

Therefore, O listener, take this lesson: in all acts of creation, whether in art, speech, or ceremony, honor the balance of old and new, borrowed and blue. Give respect to tradition, courage to innovate, humility to share, and depth to move the heart. For the greatest gift you can offer is not only your own voice, but the weaving of your voice with the story of those who receive it. In this union, like in the wedding vow, lies both beauty and eternity.