Pax Anyway

Mishmash 

Do I have confidence, confidence in our government? OK, I’m working on it. Governments are intent on “saving face,” no government wants to “lose face.” Russia takes foreseeable and inevitable steps within their sphere of influence to protect Russians and Russian social, economic and military interests in Crimea after the new Ukraine government shows a glimpse of its axx of radical nationalism by outlawing the Russian language (before reversing itself), and the American government falls all over itself threatening Russia and starting diplomatic and economic action that can have no other effect than to bolster Russian resolve and prevent the Russian government from backing down to American threats, and I’m supposed to have confidence? What I’m having is not confidence but second thoughts. 

On the other hand, gobbledegook is alive and well. International news this morning: “The aim of the conference, is to review the progress of ongoing activities and projects at units under Maintenance Command and evolve strategies and maintenance plans to tackle maintenance issues arising out of induction of new technology and weapon systems in IAF." Translation? "We have some new missiles and need to figure out how to keep them from rusting."

National Pancake Day, here in Panama City anyway. We’ll have pancakes for supper at church tonight. What’s the big idea? Shrove Tuesday. Shrove sounds like the name of a neighborhood or village or such as in Shrove Corners or Walnut Shrove Baptist Church, but it isn’t. In a language where “v” and “b” are indistinguishable sounds, Shrove is a word etymologically related to, e.g., schreibe , German for “write.” Stretching that out to “You confessed your sins and were shriven of them, the priest wrote them off with a bit of penance.” So, you are shrove for Lent, been through your refrigerator and got rid of all the butter and sweets -- by using them to make pancakes, on which you will gorge yourself the day before (Shrove Tuesday) Lent begins (Ash Wednesday).

PCNH obits this morning include Edythe MacLeod, widow of the Rev. Don MacLeod. Don was born in New York (Yonkers as I recall) but raised in Scotland and in the Kirk, and never let his Scottish brogue fade. Many of us, self included, remember Edythe and Father Don fondly. I am not clear on when to use Scot, when Scottish, and when Scotch. But Fr. Don was.

Pax

TW+