Doing what we can.

First off, I have good news about my post of last week, in which I was dismayed to discover that Czechs in World War II might have equated Perun, the Slavic god of thunder and lightning, with Hitler. I received two translations of the song from friends and family, and Perun is in fact not the bad guy. Here's the verse in question. The song is billed as being "Dedicated to Czech Brothers by American Sokol Members". This first translation is courtesy of one of my cousins. 

Let the voice of the Slavs be heard throughout the world!

Our homeland must be free!

Hitler and anyone who stands in our way

Shall be cast into hell by Perun.

Bohemia will live again!

 And here's the ChatGPT rendition, courtesy of my author buddy Chris James:

The world can already hear the Slavs' voices,
that our homeland must be free again.
Hitler and anyone who would stop us,
Perun shall strike them into hell,
"Bohemia" shall live again!

So! Two translations that make Perun a good guy. I was right! And Google Translate can suck it!

***

I may still petition Perun for help with the current craziness in Washington, but it may not do much good. 

Lynne Cantwell 2025

As many of you know, I've taken a number of classes from John Beckett, a Druid priest. He posted in his blog at Patheos today that he's had a message from the Morrigan: "Lugh isn't coming to slay Balor." 

A bit of Irish mythology is in order. Balor was the chief of the Fomorians in the time of the Tuatha De Danaan. The Tuatha tried to live in peace with them, but eventually things became intolerable, and the Tuatha went to war to overthrow their enemies. The fight slogged on for some time -- until Lugh Lamfhada, the Irish god of light, broke free and cast a spear through Balor's single hideous eye, killing him. The battle was over quickly after that, and the Tuatha then made Lugh their king.

If only our situation were that simple. Our Balor is a many-headed beast; Trump is looking more and more (to me, anyway) like a figurehead, a puppet, with many other people pulling his strings, from Elon Musk to the Project 2025 gang to who-knows-who overseas. The Democrats would need a hero like Lugh to pull off a decisive victory, and let's be honest: we don't have one. Multiple people are attacking them on multiple fronts: they're calling their members of Congress; they're filing lawsuits; and so on. But the knockout blow has been elusive so far.

Really, all we can do is do what we can. For me, that means writing this blog, going to work every day, and trying to keep from reacting to the relentless onslaught of bad news.

I work for the New Mexico state legislature, which is in session right now. Working during session is pretty crazy anyway: the hours of daylight are short, the weather is cold and sometimes snowy, and the workload seems relentless (I could swear we had at least 897 rushes sent to us between noon and 1:30 p.m. today). Much of the legislation we see is well intended. We do see some wackadoodle proposals every year, but usually I can just shake my head and move on. This year, it's hitting differently, knowing there are so many people out there who think this stuff would be a good idea.

Another thing I'm noticing more this year is how much federal law is intertwined with our state laws. It's not just federal funding, although that's important; it's how so many of our state laws dovetail with federal law on the same subject. What happens if the rule of law crumbles in Washington? Will our state laws stand on their own? Will they be allowed to stand?

We are in a good place politically, here in New Mexico -- our executive and legislative branches are both controlled by Democrats, and our congressional delegation is all Democratic, too. But as we learned last fall, that can turn on a dime. 

Still, we're doing what we can. Our attorney general and 13 of his counterparts in other states filed suit in Washington on Thursday to have DOGE declared unconstitutional and its actions an abuse of power. There's a hearing set for tomorrow morning. 

This isn't the only ongoing court case. But as we've learned to our dismay over the past four years, lawsuits take a long time to resolve. And our view of the future isn't clear. 

All we can do is do what we can.

That's my plan. But I think I will approach Perun anyway. He may not be the hero we need, but He does have experience in fighting Nazis. And we need all the help we can get.

***

These moments of doggedly determined blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Hang in there.

Perun and the limits of Google Translate.

I've mentioned that I'm taking a couple of classes during this year's legislative session, just to keep things, y'know, interesting. One of them is on Cernunnos, the Celtic god of the forest, animals and the hunt (among other things); His most famous image is found on the Gundestrup Cauldron, which was unearthed from a peat bog in Denmark in 1891. Despite the cauldron having been found in the Balkans, experts say it's of Celtic origin. Here's Cernunnos on the cauldron: 

Stolen from https://balkancelts.wordpress.com/2016/09/06/the-gundestrup-ghosts-hidden-images-in-the-gundestrup-cauldron/

I grew up in the woods, but I have never had a strong affinity with Cernunnos. Still, the class has been worth taking; it's always good to learn new things. And it may have led me to something else.

While watching the final class video, for some reason I began thinking about Perun, the Slavic god of thunder. Perun has some attributes in common with Thor -- they're both red haired and they both wield a hammer and lightning bolts -- but Perun has a bigger role in the Slavic pantheon than Thor does in the Norse, as Perun has been billed as the supreme god of the Slavs. Now, feel free to take that with a grain of salt. As usual, the chroniclers were Christian, and so they were predisposed to view polytheist pantheons through the lens of "there's gotta be One Big God because that's how it works for us". So maybe Perun is the main dude, but maybe he's coequal with Veles, the Slavic god of the underworld and the animals and is sometimes depicted in the guise of a dragon. He and Perun have an epic fight in the skies at the end of winter every year, complete with thunder and lightning, and Veles is always defeated, and then it's spring.

Anyway, Perun played a part in Dragon's Web, the first book in the Pipe Woman's Legacy series, so I included Him in A Billion Gods and Goddesses, the companion book to the Pipe Woman universe's mythology. And in that book, I mentioned that I'd found among my mother's things a little songbook that had been produced, I'm assuming in the 1930s or '40s, by a Czech printer in Cicero, Illinois, and in that songbook was a song that I believed called on Perun to fight against Hitler and free Czechoslovakia. When that memory came up, I was sitting at my desk; I opened my desk drawer, and there it was.

Here's a photo of the song I was thinking of. The verse numbered 2, toward the bottom of the page, is the one that mentions Hitler and Perun: 

Lynne Cantwell 2025

My Czech is extremely rusty and was never great to start with. So I figured I'd plug the verse into Google Translate, right? So I did, and...hmm. 

Lynne Cantwell 2025

Wait a minute. Perun would be thrown into hell? They're equating the top Slavic god with Hitler? I mean, the Czechs had been Christianized for a long time by then (nowadays the country is largely atheist), but man, I dunno.

I sure hope someone who knows more Czech than me reads this. I was sure that Czech-Americans were asking for Perun's help in defeating Hitler -- and given that success, and what we're up against in Washington right now, I was all set to petition Perun for some help for our side.

I asked Mama Google about any connections between Perun and the Czechs in World War II, and I did find a publication that mentions a branch of the Czech intelligence, "responsible for sabotage and subversive operations", that was codenamed Perun. It's kind of sad that the Czechs made their mightiest god go undercover to beat Hitler. But at least He did fight against Hitler -- or anyway, some Czech operatives fought against the Germans in His name.

And it beats the fate of Lugh, the Irish god of light -- the guy who could do anything -- who in later years was turned into a leprechaun.

***

These moments of questionable bloggy translations have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Hang in there!

Of humanity and a memory.

elaelo | Deposit Photos

Here we are, the Sunday after Trump's second inauguration, and so of course all the preachers in all the churches in America are talking about it, in one way or another. A lot of them are talking about the homily delivered to Trump and his vice president, J.D. Vance, on Inauguration Day at the National Cathedral by the Right Rev. Marian Budde, the Episcopal bishop of Washington, DC. (For those who aren't clued into ecclesiastical stuff, the National Cathedral is an Episcopal church. That's a Protestant denomination. It's more or less the American version of the Anglican Church, which King Henry VIII created when the pope wouldn't grant him a divorce from his first wife.) The Rev. Budde had the temerity to call on Trump -- to his face, even! -- to "have mercy upon the people in this country who are scared now." How dare she, right? A priest calling on a parishoner to do the right, moral thing! The very idea!

The reactions fell into the usual camps, with Trump and his MAGAts attacking her. One Republican member of the House of Representatives suggested that she be added to the deportation list. Where does he think she should be deported to? She was born in New Jersey!

Pope Francis is siding with the Rev. Budde, at least on the issue of mass deportations. He's calling the plan "a disgrace". So of course the MAGAts are mad at him, too.

None of this stopped ICE from rounding up migrants -- some of them legal -- working at a fish market in Newark, NJ, on Friday. According to Newark Mayor Ras Baraka, one of those rounded up was a veteran who had his military service questioned -- an "indignity", the mayor said. And how.

We knew this was going to happen, and worse. Trump and his minions are not interested in showing anybody mercy, least of all nonwhite, noncisgendered people. But make no mistake: They are all still people, no matter what. As an animist, I think it's a no-brainer: all humans are people (my definition of "people" is a lot broader than just humans, as alert hearth/myth readers know - here's just one of my several posts on the subject), and all people deserve dignity and respect.

Pace yourselves, guys. It's gonna be a long four years.

***

Let's talk about something more cheerful. This memory bubbled up in my brain when an author friend made a Facebook post in which he asked people to tell about the first single they ever bought. (In this context, "single" refers to a 45-rpm vinyl record, smaller than an LP, that had just one song on each side.)

I couldn't tell you which single I owned first. I mean, it was probably a Monkees record; I just don't remember which one. But I can tell you that virtually my entire hoard of singles came from one of two stores in my hometown: either Shoppers Fair or 212 Bargain Center. 

The name "212 Bargain Center" was not exactly creative: The store was located on Indiana Highway 212, a spur that connects US 12 and US 20. If you've ever read any of Andrew M. Greeley's early novels, you may have run across a mention of the highway; he would sometimes send his priests up to Grand Beach, MI, for a summer outing, and at least once, they stopped at Roxanne's Drive-In on Highway 212 for a bite.

Anyway. When I was a kid, Mom, Dad, and I had a tradition on Saturday nights: after we ate supper at home, we'd get in the car and do some shopping (either at one of those two stores or the mall), then maybe stop for milkshakes at McDonald's (which we consumed in the car -- no indoor seating, folks, this was the '60s), and then head to the South Shore train station on 11th Street downtown so Dad could buy the Sunday editions of the Chicago newspapers as soon as they came off the train Saturday night. 

Shoppers Fair often ran a coupon in their weekly advertising circular for singles -- 25 cents each, or four for a dollar. At 212 Bargain Center, you didn't need a coupon; they had a big bin of cut-out singles. Each of these 45s had a hole drilled through the label. They played fine, though, and most importantly, they were cheap. I could usually talk my mother into buying me one or two.

On this particular night, as I browsed the cut-out bin, I ran across a song I liked and asked Mom if we could get it. "Which song is that?" she asked. The house was small and I had my radio on a lot; she'd heard them all. Suddenly, the background music in the store played the record I was asking for. "That one," I said, and she said okay. Then I ran across another song I liked -- and the same thing happened. And then it happened again!

I don't remember how many records I ended up with. I only remember how surprised and delighted I was that the songs I wanted kept playing when Mom wanted to know what they sounded like.

Coincidence? Maybe. Somebody in the office at the store having fun with us? Doubtful. The office was pretty far from the record bin; they would have needed binoculars to see the record labels. A miracle? It's an odd sort of thing to put down as miraculous, don't you think? Serendipity, maybe. Or maybe ... magic.

***

These moments of magical blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Hang in there, guys.

Good omens sought.

It's Sunday night, and I know I owe you guys a post. It's not really where my brain is at tonight, though -- prefiling of bills for the new legislative session ended at 5:00 p.m. Friday, so work was nuts all week, and of course we have the craziness in DC looming tomorrow. (I'm trying to gin up some sympathy for the Trump supporters who spent thousands of dollars on a trip to DC to attend the inauguration, only to be told it's been moved to a much smaller indoor venue because of the cold and their tickets are now commemorative. Trying to gin up sympathy, I said. It's not working very well.) 

So we could be forgiven for feeling like fate is breathing down our necks. Although it might just be Tigs. 

Lynne Cantwell 2025

Anyway, here are a couple more pictures from this past week.

We finally got into our newly renovated office space at work this week. It was supposed to be turned over to us in early November, but construction was delayed because reasons. You know how it goes. 

Anyhow, we proofreaders have been given cubicles adjoining the word processors (who used to have a big office with actual desks) and the bill clerks (who used to have the whole space that our three departments are now shoehorned into). I personally think our department got the best end of the deal. Our previous space was a weirdly configured bullpen with extremely non-ergonomic counters for our computers. Trust me when I say that the cubes are an improvement. My cube is on the far end in a corner, and for some reason, I have been given windows atop a partition that's bang up against a wall. 

Some view, huh? | Lynne Cantwell 2025

I'm taking suggestions for what to do with this setup. I could go wild with gel clings, but if you've got a better idea, lay it on me.

Speaking of views, though: On Monday, I had an appointment with my endocrinologist in Los Alamos (just a checkup, no biggie), and of course I hit a blizzard on the way up. I was worried about driving home in snow after seeing the doctor, but I needn't have worried -- the storm had passed, the streets were already clear and mostly dry, and the Jemez Mountains were stunning in their fresh dusting of snow. 

Lynne Cantwell 2025

Here's hoping that's a good omen.

***

Anyway, who knows? The second Trump administration may blow itself up before it half starts, and all of our angst will be for naught. Vivek Ramaswamy already plans to quit the DOGE thing to run for governor of Ohio, and Elon Musk, the other half of the DOGE brain trust, reportedly couldn't be happier. All I want to know is how many Scaramuccis ol' Vivek lasted.

Then there's the shock-and-awe immigration crackdown that Trump's team had planned for Tuesday in Chicago. I've seen unconfirmed reports that the plans are off because word about it got out. It's tough to create chaos when the "enemy" has time to prepare.

And best of luck to House of Representatives Speaker Mike Johnson; he'll need it to keep his teeny tiny majority from splintering. This Congress could end up being even less effective than the last one.

We live in hope.

***

I won't be watching the inauguration tomorrow because I have to work. If the election had gone differently, I might have stolen a few minutes out of the day to see the swearing in. But now, I'm sure I'll be far too busy to get away.

***

These moments of not-too-ominous blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Stay safe and warm!