My stepfather, who is closing hard on his 90th birthday, informed me with great glee that he had been served a jumbo, juicy, jelly donut with his breakfast yesterday morning. I explained that the occasion was sometimes known as Fat Tuesday and went on to connect it with Ash Wednesday, reminding him that people in Europe often used up their cooking fat on the day before Lent, the better to prepare for the culinary leanness of the season. Which explanation he accepted, whereupon he laughed and said: “I think we should have Fat Tuesday every Tuesday.”
Dead Man Walking
Although, as a pastor, I have kept many a death watch, I have never been on a death march….my own, or anybody else’s. I have never done the “dead man walking” thing. Although, like many of you, I have seen the Dead Man Walking movie. Twice, however, I have been to Dauchau, a scant thirty miles from Munich, where I have walked from the barracks where the dead men lived (and no, that is not an oxymoron) and walked to the chambers where the dead men died.