May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 Joe Dady
Good morning friends,
This Tuesday we lay our friend Joe Dady to rest. It is been a difficult week for this community so my newsletter is a repeat from last year. I still think it’s appropriate.
Today in America we pause and reflect on Memorial or "Decoration" Day. It is a federal holiday for remembering the people who died while serving in the country's armed forces. In popular culture it is the beginning of summertime, celebrated with picnics, barbecues and beaches. The solemness is often overlooked as the intention is to reflect upon those who gave their life in service of their country. Every town has a parade and there is a lot of patriotism and flag waving but we can never fully comprehend the suffering that this ultimate sacrifice bestows upon the families left behind after losing a loved one in war. When I was in High School we read a poem by Wilfred Owen, a 25 year old English infantryman who lost his life in WWI. It had a profound effect upon me. The poem is now 100 years old and theme of the devastation of war is still more appropriate than ever.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
The store will be closed today in honor of Memorial Day but of course the online store is open around the clock. Lots of new and interesting vintage instruments have come in this week so check our new this week. We are also working on the purchase of a few large collection. Every day we get calls with interesting instruments for sale. Bernunzio’s has become the place to trust for buying and selling vintage instruments at a fair price. These are exciting times for vintage instrument enthusiasts.
remember those who are gone.