I wanna take a minute to tell you about a guy named Tony Saunders. He was a friend of my family who passed away just a few days ago at 94. But that's not the important part. The important part is his story, and I want y'all to hear it. (I'll keep it brief.)

During WWII, he fought in the Polish army. If you know your history, the Polish army was defeated after a month of fighting, but Tony wasn't a causality. He became a German POW.

The only reason why the German's did not kill him was because he spoke German. Instead, they kidnapped him and forced him to work as a translator, which he did for at least several months.

Then one day, when a guard wasn't looking, Tony somehow managed to steal a gun from a German officer, run out in the open across a field, hide in the back of a jeep, and ride out of the Nazi encampment to safety—all without getting caught.

He fled to an allied country as a refuge and ended up continuing his fight against Nazi Germany. Sometime along the way he met his wife in Italy, and after the war they moved to the U.S.

I only knew Tony as an older gentleman, but he loved to sing Italian songs, drink too much wine, and dance. He was always in a good mood, even when he talked about getting captured by Nazis.

But I suppose he always told that story so gleefully because he knew it had a happen ending. "I stuck it to them," he'd say and then laugh.

So folks, pour one for Tony tonight, and remember to talk to your elders. Record their stories. Their experiences are important pieces of history. RIP, Tony. You'll be missed.

Here's us enjoying some tunes together last Christmas. Tony is in the blue shirt.