Oscar Peterson

One of my crow friends looks to have a broken a leg since yesterday. His left foot doesn't seem to work and he has to hop on one leg. That's life- and death- in the wild lane,and he probably won't survive long. I feel surprisingly sad about it.
In an online publication new to me, Prospect,the January issue has an article about Parmenides, an old philosopher who is also new to me. I haven't read the article thoroughly yet, but it seems Parmenides believed nothing new could come into this world. It had to previously exist in a different form. Maybe this is the kind of reasoning that led the Epicureans to come up with the concept of atoms, indestructible elemental particles out of which all things are made.
I happen to think otherwise. I think the universe is in a constant state of creation and destruction, and that what comes in to being, although seemingly made out of the same constituents over and over, is nevertheless unique and unrepeatable. Only the themes in philosophy repeat each other over and over, rephrased and dressed up in new outfits.
Oscar Peterson died yesterday. There was never before another Oscar Peterson and there will never again be another Oscar Peterson. Yet, by existing he changed the meaning of every musician of his time. Have a good crossing, Oscar, they're waiting for you in the heavenly choir.