The sound of taps is as familiar as breath, solemn and haunting. And for 73-year-old Jerry Muennich on this Memorial Day, it was especially and eloquently moving.”It just enhances the solemnity of the whole thing,” he said.Muennich played taps in public Monday for the first time in more than a half century.He hasn’t lost the touch he developed as a Roger Bacon High School teenager who accompanied his dad and the American Legion in Greenhills where he grew up.”They would go to a few cemeteries around Springfield Township area and do a short ceremony and place flags,” he said. “And for a couple years I played taps at the conclusion of those ceremonies.”In the mid-sixties, Muennich set his trumpet down and traded his marching band uniform at Bacon for one the Navy provided for military service in the Vietnam War.”My dad was in the Navy, so I was drawn to the Navy,” he explained. “So, I just went ahead and enlisted. It wasn’t really hard to lay down. It was just moving on to another facet of life.”During his high school life at 16 and 17 years old, he could play all 24 notes.At 73, he can look back now with a greater depth of experience and comprehension about what this holiday represents.”Understanding the magnitude of it at that age. You don’t, really,” Muennich said. “But then, later on, as I went into the service and all the years preceding, you get a real appreciation for the sacrifice that was made by a lot of us and especially those that didn’t return, which is what today is all about.”Given his druthers, Muennich would easily choose a more regular Memorial Day observance.Many parades and gatherings at monuments and cemeteries have fallen victim to the pandemic of the past few months.But he agreed the national moment of remembrance planned Monday afternoon was an appropriate and meaningful substitute.He had practiced the past few days at his home.”I went through taps a few times just to get a feel for it back again,” Muennich stated.He didn’t even know about Taps Across America until a few days ago. He’s one of the many unofficial participants, just happy and honored to play a part.His wife, Terri, instigated it by telling family and friends how appropriate it would be for him to play the brief, but moving piece. She hadn’t even told him at that point.”No, because I knew he wouldn’t like that,” she related with a good-natured laugh. “He’s very humble.”She spoke about how proud she was of him and his accomplishments.”I think it’s important that we do this today,” she said.The sky darkened and the rain pounded the earth throughout much of the area about an hour before the moment.Muennich looked skyward a time or two once the rain subsided.It remained cloudy and threatening, but that did not deter neighbors who stood near the foot of his drive a few moments beforehand to wait and observe.”So, here I am,” he had said earlier.With a lifetime of distance between those days when he played taps at cemetery services and now.Neighbors stood respectfully apart, appreciative of his gesture.Hands were placed over hearts and heads were bowed.There was a salute and a sense of shared significance among a smattering of neighbors. “I just think it’s a beautiful tribute,” his wife said.Muennich bought a horn last fall, the first one he has had since his mother sold the one he used just before answering the call to duty.A reminder that though there’s a lot of social distance to Memorial Day this year, there’s also a close connection through the horn of someone whose been there.