The Sarnia Journal has partnered with local photographer Art Connolly to feature his captivating “Humans of Sarnia” series as he delves into the lives and experiences of everyday people in Sarnia/Lambton.
When Missy Burgess speaks about the turning points in her life, she does so with a kind of grounded openness that makes you feel as though you've stepped quietly into her story. Music may be what many people know her for today, but the path she took to get here is shaped by caregiving, curiosity, and moments of unlikely courage.
Missy grew up in Toronto in a bustling household where creativity circled around her, even if she wasn't always the one in the spotlight. One of her brothers attended St. Michael’s Choir School, a place known for producing some of Canada’s most celebrated voices—her brother Michael Burgess among them.
She recalls spending week after week attending school concerts to see her brother, absorbing harmonies and performances long before she ever thought of becoming a performer herself.
"I think I had the music put into me through osmosis," she says with a laugh. But even as music seeped in naturally, the family’s resources were focused on ensuring her brother could pursue his training. "I kind of stayed in the background," she explains—not with bitterness, but with the matter-of-fact tone of someone who knew she'd find her own way eventually.
And she did. Sometimes it happened in small, secret moments. On Sunday afternoons, when the family piled into the car for their traditional drive, Missy would sometimes feign illness just so she could stay home alone. She would quietly pull out her father’s records one by one, listening carefully and putting each one back exactly the way she found it.
At ten years old, she would tell her mother she was off to a friend’s house—then slip into a nearby church instead. She'd climb up to the loft at the back and sing to the empty space, imagining a crowd below listening just for her. In those echoes, she found her earliest stage.
By the time her parents moved to Sarnia—her father, Bill Burgess, became involved in helping develop Lambton College—Missy was already committed to another calling. She stayed in Toronto to study nursing, beginning a career that would carry her into psychiatric care and eventually into the classroom.
Her decade as Head Nurse at Whitby Psychiatric Hospital shaped her deeply. After that, she settled in Ottawa for more than thirty years, becoming a professor at Algonquin College. There, she taught psychiatry, mental health, nursing, and pharmacology. She influenced generations of students, not only through academic instruction but through her steady way of seeing people—something that later became part of her music as well.
But even in the most demanding stages of her nursing career, music didn't stay dormant. "I never really started pursuing music until I was in my late thirties after raising a family," she says. "And I loved it, and I still love it."
Ottawa became the place where she learned how to perform publicly—open stages, songwriting workshops, and community gatherings. She found herself collaborating with musicians she admired, learning from them, and slowly finding her own place within that world.
Her work in palliative care opened yet another unexpected door. She began singing for patients at the end of their lives, offering comfort through the songs she had carried with her since childhood. "I really enjoyed that," she says. "It just gave me a richer perspective of music." For her, those moments weren’t performances—they were exchanges of presence, honesty, and something close to grace.
When asked what genre she gravitates toward, she smiles at the simplicity of the answer: Blues and Folk. That blend of storytelling and emotional rawness feels like home to her. She mentions influences with the tenderness of someone describing old friends:
Tom Waits
Louis Armstrong
Billie Holiday
Etta James
Canadians Penny Lang and Willie P. Bennett
One of the most remarkable chapters of her life came from a song she wrote about a woman incarcerated at the Louisiana Correctional Institute for Women, often referred to as Angola Prison for Women. Wanting the woman, Mary Riley, to know someone had written about her, Missy did something most people would never imagine doing: she phoned the prison. Not knowing the protocols, not knowing who she would reach—she simply tried.
Instead of hitting a wall, she got through to the head of the institution. To her astonishment, he invited her to perform a concert there. She said yes without hesitation. She travelled to Louisiana, met Mary Riley in person, and sang for the women inside the prison—the only Canadian ever to do so.
"It was a very powerful experience," she says, her voice soft but steady. It is clear the memory still sits close to the surface.
Today, Missy continues to share her music with a quiet assurance shaped by a lifetime of listening deeply—to patients, students, to her family, and to her own instincts. On December 14th, she’ll bring that voice and experience to the Lawrence House Centre for the Arts, performing with Phil Smy in an afternoon concert that promises to be rooted in the kind of authenticity you can’t manufacture.
It’s a chance to hear not just a musician, but a woman who has lived many lives, each one adding something unique to the sound she carries with her.
Tickets for the performance are available through the Lawrence House Centre for the Arts website. Missy has recorded 4 CDs which will be available for purchase at the performance.
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Humans of Sarnia founder Art Connolly is a man fuelled by curiosity and a passion for connecting with people in Sarnia. Inspired by the renowned “Humans of New York” series, with a camera in hand, he captures the very essence of the individuals he encounters, preserving their stories through his lens. Follow his series on Instagram and Facebook.
