When I read your article about burglaries ("It takes a thief," April 7, Page A-1) I became sick all over again. In 1970, someone broke into our house. All the drawers were dumped onto the floor; they took all my jewelry, our TV, money, a guitar. But most of all, they took my irreplaceable violin. It was made around 1880 in England. It had a very small place underneath where it had been repaired. It would be easy to identify. I used the violin all the time.
A few years ago I read in The Bee about the head of a motorcycle gang who was arrested and they found a violin in his possession ("Trial ordered for private detective accused of forging a will," July 4, 2003, Page B-3). I asked for somebody to get in touch with the lawyer to find out if the violin might have been mine. I never heard anything.
It breaks my heart when I read about a break-in. Not so much about the things stolen which I could replace, but about the violin I could never replace.