June 23rd, 2025

Greetings folks,

     As the latest edition of the Rochester International Jazz Festival takes over the streets of Rochester, Julie and I have been fast at work collecting instruments from all over western New York. Before this week we boasted of having the greatest collection of instruments we’ve ever had for sale… and then… we had a phone call…. about a storage area, nearby. We filled up our RAV hatchback with 36 rare banjos and mandolins and assorted stringed things. We will have to make a trip back with a rented van for the rest sometime this week…yes, when it rains… it rains! So you if you if you happen to be in Rochester for the Jazz Festival or any other reason, make it a point to stop at Bernunzio‘s. Sam and Ryan have cooked up a tremendous sale of instruments. Some instruments were at such low prices that I bought a couple myself! I’m now the proud owner of a beautiful A.C. Fairbanks banjeurine!

   Since Julie is spending a bit of more time, taking care of her mom and helping her settle in after the passing of Julie‘s dad, I’ve had lots of extra time alone. That’s always something that makes me start to reflect and this past weekend I’ve been reflecting about 1968. In the spring of 1968 as I was just finishing my junior year of college. I decided I wanted to do something different with my life. I applied for, and was accepted into the Peace Core. Much to the dismay of my parents I dropped out of college, took a plane across the country to Fresno, CA where I was undergoing training to become a chicken farmer in Iran! I remember my parents kind of arguing about it. "What’s wrong with him, hun? Why does he wanna do this?, leave us?"… and my Mom replied…"He wants to do peaceful things… leave him alone. He likes peace!".  I was always doing something strange. At any rate, I spent 10 weeks there, learning the language of Farsi and I made friends with many Iranian students who were teachers at the facility. Over the course of time our friendship grew and they confided with me about Iran’s relationship with America. Iranians love America. They love the concept of America….freedom, respect for knowledge, people and history. These young guys were big fans of the Kennedys, and were all just so hurt when RFK was recently assassinated. But they also told about the sad side of their country. The Shah of Iran was a very murderous dictator. His family had ruled with a strong arm across a nation that had many different ethnic groups within the political boundaries. He once sent a video to Lyndon Johnson to show how Iran deals with its drug problem when that was becoming an issue in America in 1965. The video showed his private police force raiding an opium den and rounding up a few old addicts and then shooting them in half with a firing squad. His disdain for his own people lead the path to his overthrow. I also learned that Iran was a country of deep deep history going back 5000 years. They have a great pride for who they are and where they’ve been…and I’ll never forget them telling me the tale of King Cyrus, the great Persian, yes also known as Iranian, leader who returned the Jewish people back to their homeland from exile….but that’s all just old stuff history, isn’t it?

With peace,   

John Bernunzio 

collections…

Meanwhile, in between taking care of her mom and everything else that she does, Julie….tends to the best garden on Main Street in Penn Yan, New York

Our neighbor’s oldest daughter is graduating from high school this year. Celebrating graduation time in Penn Yan is something else. On Friday night I was tooling around town on my deluxe mobility scooter. I was coming back from having a beer at the local watering hole and all of a sudden,  I was met with every siren in town going off at the same time. Then, coming down Main Street was every police vehicle (town, county, state; emergency response vehicles, fire engines, healthcare transports, school buses, all with their sirens blaring and lights flashing…..And then it dawned on me. It was to celebrate graduation! They do it big here. By the way, not that anybody’s asking, but this year was my 60th anniversary of graduating from high school. I didn’t even get a balloon!

On Sunday, my scooter adventure took me to the other end of Main Street called East Main. A side street led to this community garden which I knew nothing about.