Rhymes in “Paul Revere’s Ride”

I first encountered Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem “Paul Revere’s Ride” in high school. It is an excellent piece of literature to study, as it provides a gentle introduction to poetry and has the benefit of teaching a little history as well. (One should not take everything in the poem as historical fact, however.)

Paul Revere (from J.S. Copely painting)

I liked the poem so much that I memorized the first few stanzas of it. Memorizing the whole poem apparently required more commitment than I was able to muster.

In any case, on the two-hundred-forty-seventh anniversary of the events described in the beginning of the poem—i.e., on April 18, 2022—I took a closer look at the poem. The first thing I noticed is that the stanzas vary in length. Moreover, there is no consistent rhyme scheme. The poem is not, for example, constructed of a sequence of rhymed couplets. Nevertheless, the poem is full of rhymes.

I have long been intrigued by differing rhyme schemes and have employed a variety of them in my own poetry. Besides using a series of couplets, the simplest possible scheme—see, for example, “Maidenhood”—I have employed the more difficult to sustain ABAB form—see, for example, “Musashi’s Odyssey.” Somewhat easier to write is the ABCB form, which I used in “First Class” and “The Quecreek Mine Disaster.” Some of the more interesting rhyme schemes I’ve used include ABBC in “Thanksgiving” and ABCDCBA in “Sunday Afternoon,” a poem deliberately written to employ this unusual mirrored-stanza scheme. Of course, some of my poems don’t rhyme at all, such as “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” which nevertheless is composed of stanzas of equal length.

Then there is the “Paul Revere” poem. As one reads it—as I read it anyway—one is aware of there being rhymes, but rhymes that fall into no consistent pattern. Nonetheless, the poem reads well. Upon close examination, one notices that the poem contains not a single unrhymed line, although rhyming lines are sometimes widely separated from one another. In the stanza beginning “It was one by the village clock,” the second line rhymes only with the eighth and last line. Only one rhyme seems a bit forced: Lexington/upon. It is easy to excuse this is a poem constrained, in large measure, by historical facts. (Wadsworth studied the history of Revere’s mission, but he took liberties in his poem for his own reasons.) Also, some may object to lane/again, but this is perfectly conventional. One can imagine the poem with different line breaks, but, of course, this would obscure the rhymes further.

I invite you to enjoy “Paul Revere’s Ride” below, where I have indicated the rhymes in the left column. Longfellow did a masterful job!
  

Paul Revere’s Ride 

A	Listen, my children and you shall hear
A	Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
B	On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:
B	Hardly a man is now alive
A	Who remembers that famous day and year.
A	He said to his friend, “If the British march
B	By land or sea from the town to-night,
A	Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch
B	Of the North-Church-tower, as a signal-light,—
C	One if by land, and two if by sea;
C	And I on the opposite shore will be,
D	Ready to ride and spread the alarm
D	Through every Middlesex village and farm,
D	For the country-folk to be up and to arm.”
A	Then he said “Good night!” and with muffled oar
A	Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
B	Just as the moon rose over the bay,
B	Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
C	The Somerset, British man-of-war:
C	A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
C	Across the moon, like a prison-bar,
D	And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
D	By its own reflection in the tide.
A	Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street
B	Wanders and watches with eager ears,
B	Till in the silence around him he hears
C	The muster of men at the barrack door,
A	The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
B	And the measured tread of the grenadiers
C	Marching down to their boats on the shore.
A	Then he climbed to the tower of the church,
B	Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
B	To the belfry-chamber overhead,
A	And startled the pigeons from their perch
D	On the sombre rafters, that round him made
D	Masses and moving shapes of shade,—
E	By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
E	To the highest window in the wall,
F	A moment on the roofs of the town,
F	Where he paused to listen and look down
E	And the moonlight flowing over all.
A	Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
B	In their night-encampment on the hill,
B	Wrapped in silence so deep and still
A	That he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread,
C	The watchful night-wind, as it went
C	Creeping along from tent to tent,
D	And seeming to whisper, “All is well!”
D	A moment only he feels the spell
A	Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
A	Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
C	For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
E	On a shadowy something far away,
E	Where the river widens to meet the bay,—
F	A line of black, that bends and floats
F	On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.
A	Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
A	Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride,
B	On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
A	Now he patted his horse’s side,
B	Now gazed on the landscape far and near,
C	Then impetuous stamped the earth,
C	And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
D	But mostly he watched with eager search
D	The belfry-tower of the old North Church,
E	As it rose above the graves on the hill,
E	Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
F	And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height,
F	A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
G	He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
F	But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
G	A second lamp in the belfry burns!
A	A hurry of hoofs in a village-street,
B	A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
B	And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
A	Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet:
C	That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
C	The fate of a nation was riding that night;
C	And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
A	Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
A	He has left the village and mounted the steep,
A	And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
B	Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
C	And under the alders, that skirt its edge,
C	Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
B	Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
A	It was twelve by the village clock
B	When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
A	He heard the crowing of the cock,
C	And the barking of the farmer’s dog,
C	And felt the damp of the river-fog,
B	That rises when the sun goes down.
A	It was one by the village clock,
B	When he galloped into Lexington.
A	He saw the gilded weathercock
C	Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
D	And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
D	Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
C	As if they already stood aghast
B	At the bloody work they would look upon.
A	It was two by the village clock,
B	When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
B	He heard the bleating of the flock,
C	And the twitter of birds among the trees,
C	And felt the breath of the morning breeze
B	Blowing over the meadows brown.
D	And one was safe and asleep in his bed
E	Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
D	Who that day would be lying dead,
E	Pierced by a British musket-ball.
A	You know the rest. In the books you have read,
A	How the British Regulars fired and fled,—
B	How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
B	From behind each fence and farmyard-wall,
C	Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
C	Then crossing the fields to emerge again
D	Under the trees at the turn of the road,
A	And only pausing to fire and load.
A	So through the night rode Paul Revere;
B	And so through the night went his cry of alarm
B	To every Middlesex village and farm,—
A	A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
C	A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
C	And a word that shall echo forevermore!
D	For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
D	Through all our history, to the last,
E	In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
A	The people will waken and listen to hear
E	The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
A	And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

Note: Minor edits were made to the introduction to the poem 6/23/2022.

Are the End Times Upon Us?

I’ve been watching the first spring training game of the Pittsburgh Pirates. The Pirates are playing the New York Yankees. I cannot shake the feeling that the time is out of joint, that the end times may be upon us.

• 

  Logo of the Guardians

  The Cleveland Indians are now, after more than a century, the Cleveland Guardians. Perhaps they’re now providing home security.
• Umpires are wearing advertising. Apparently this unfortunate innovation is not going away anytime soon. Is advertising next going to appear on player uniforms? Will individual players have sponsors. Where does this end? Does MLB an an insatiable appatite for ever more income?
• The designated hitter has come to the National League. Real baseball is now officially dead, and baseball managers are now relieved of performing one of their most difficult jobs.
• There is even talk of outlawing the defensive shift. Perhaps we will place markers on the field and require that every play must begin with every player on his designated mark.

And, of course, Vladimir Putin is threatening to initiate World War III.

It’s been a halfway decent world while it lasted.

When Can We End Russian Sanctions?

NPR’s Steve Inskeep reported on his interview with Secretary of State Anthony Blinken on today’s Morning Edition:

[Blinken] insisted that U.S. sanctions against Russia are “not designed to be permanent,” and that they could “go away” if Russia should change its behavior. But he said any Russian pullback would have to be, “in effect, irreversible,” so that “this can't happen again, that Russia won’t pick up and do exactly what it’s doing in a year or two years or three years.”

Blinken made it clear, however, that he expects Russia neither to halt its aggression nor to offer diplomatic concessions any time soon.

It’s hard to know whether to be encouraged by Blinken’s words. On the one hand, the suggestion that sanctions could “go away” if Russia changes its behavior sounds like we might be ready to let Russia off easy. On the other hand, the demand that Russia, from this time forward, behave like a responsible, civilized state is unlikely to be pledged and, if promised, would be impossible to enforce. Forever is, after all, a long, long time. One has to think that Blinken’s demand is ironically akin to Putin’s insistence that Ukraine never seek NATO membership.

What is it the world—much of it anyway—needs here? First, of course, the aggression must stop. After that, Ukraine must be made whole. (It has been suggested that, as of now, this will cost half a trillion dollars, though even that will not repair the human carnage.) Secretary Blinken is right to demand that Russia never again attacks its neighbors. We must be real here, however. That can never be guaranteed as long as Putin is in power, if then.

Sanctions must not be lifted before the fighting stops, Russia takes responsibility for reconstructing the country it has ravaged, and Putin is no longer in power. Sanctions were imposed to change Putin’s behavior, but they must be kept in place to punish Russia for its unspeakable behavior. Putin’s stepping down in favor of one of his cronies will not be enough. Further, Putin must be tried for war crimes, which he has assuredly committed. If these requirements are met, sanctions can be gradually lifted.

I fear this conflict may outlast the Biden presidency. If so, I worry that a Republican president, whether or not it is Donald Trump, will let Russia off the hook. I sincerely hope that our current policy, or something very much like it, will remain resolutely bipartisan. I am not totally sanguine about that.

President Volodymyr Zelenskyy addressed Congress today via video. As expected, he asked for additional war materiel. His strongest emotional appeal, however, came in the form of a brief video illustrating, in painful-to-watch graphics, the damage being done by Russia to the cities and people of Ukraine. I hope that members of Congress were asking themselves how they would feel if what there seeing happened in their own back yards—to New York or to Chicago or to Pheonix or to Duluth.

Zelenskyy addressed Biden with these words: “Being the leader of the world means being the leader of peace.” I hope our president was listening.

Which Way Does the Fan Turn?

I encountered a collection of fans in a physical therapy facility. The fans are suspended from the ceiling by very long rods, possibly as long as ten feet. I was first struck by the fact that the fans are rock-stable. There is no visible wobble at all. I have no idea who manufactured them.

Observed from the floor, the fan blades move counter-clockwise. I noticed, however, that if I told myself the blades were moving clockwise, I could actually see them that way. Take a look yourself and see if this little mental trick works for you.

Schroeder Update 12

Yesterday, I was to take Schroeder to receive his second FVRCP vaccination and to have a microchip implanted. Of course, I first had to get him into a carrier. Performing this trick with Linus and Charlie has always been difficult, and I had no reason to believe that putting Schroeder into his carrier would be markedly easier.

I was girded for battle. I was wearing my sturdy Carhartt shirt and my leather gloves. Schroeder approached me and let me pet him, but when I tried to grab him with both hands, he slipped away like the proverbial bat out of hell. In the process of retreating to his redoubt between the couch and the plant stand, he overturned his water bowl, spilling its contents into the food bowl. This led to a temporary hiatus from cat catching to clean up the mess. I gathered up the kibble and took the water and food bowl out of the room. I vacuumed up a few errant pieces of kibble.

Cat capture then resumed. I moved the plant stand to gain access to Schroeder, He then ran between the couch and the wall. I used a pole to flush him out. He ran around the other side of the couch, and my attempt to grab him as he emerged was, unsurprisingly, unsuccessful. He retreated to his favorite resting place. I moved the end of the couch against the wall, cutting off that avenue of escape. I also moved the plant stand out of the way. When I tried to grab him, he hissed at me and lunged with claws bared. His outburst was surprisingly violent, given his usual laid-back demeanor. A claw barely reached through my glove. (This was to be my sole injury for the day.)

At this point, I called a friend who had helped me corral Linus and Charlie in the past. She couldn’t come over immediately but agreed to be on call if I needed her later. I thought it likely that her services would be required.

Schroeder was now cornered, but any attempt to grab him was clearly hazardous. Without having a clear strategy for getting the cat into the carrier, I placed the open carrier in front of Schroeder. He was now trapped between the couch, the wall, the carrier, and its wire door. I tried to explain that he needed to enter the carrier, but he seemed indifferent to my explanation. After a minute or two and by means I cannot explain, I got Schroeder into the carrier. I closed the door and sighed in relief. I was exhausted.

I put carrier and cat into the car and headed for the vet appointment. The half-hour drive was peaceful; I heard not a peep from Schroeder. I was apprehensive when the woman who was to give Schroeder his shot and his microchip opened the carrier to extract the cat. She was, however, very good at her job. Sitting on the floor in front of the carrier, she grabbed Schroeder by the scruff of the neck and put him between her legs. The shot and microchip were administered in less than a minute. Not a sound was heard from Schroeder.

The trip home was again quiet and uneventful. (Well, I was listening to NPR.) I left Schroeder in the car while I put the room back together. I filled the water and food bowls, moved the couch, and replaced the plant stand. Finally, I brought Schroeder inside and placed the carrier on the floor.

Schroeder back home

I opened the carrier, but Schroeder did not come out, even with cat treats in front of him. He stuck out his head for a moment and then retreated into the safety of the carrier.

Schroeder free to come out

After waiting a few minutes for some movement, I left the room. When I returned a while later, Schroeder was out of his carrier and resting in his favorite spot.

Schroeder at rest

The day’s mission had been accomplished. Schroeder would not need to see a vet for a year. The task now was to improve socialization and to find Schroeder a forever home.

NOTE: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.

Wanted for Crimes: Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin

Celebrating 20 Years

Today I celebrate the 20th anniversary of this blog, Lionel Deimel’s Web Log. Twenty years ago, the term “blog” had not yet become common. I’ve chosen to leave well enough alone and not change the name. Nor have I changed the description “Random quick takes by Lionel Deimel.” Over the years, my posts became less quick and less short. Most of my really quick takes are now posted on Facebook, often in private groups to which I belong. Occasionally, I cross-post my Facebook commentary here.

My blog was inaugurated under the same philosophy as that of my Web site, Lionel Deimel’s Farrago. I write what interests me, and I don’t limit myself to any particular topic. This makes posts more fun to write, but it attracts fewer long-term readers. So be it.

Many of my posts have been about the trials, triumphs, and insights of ordinary life. For example, one of my first posts was “How Much Power Can It Take to Run a Map Light?” I have often used posts to call attention to my poems on my Web site. Occasionally, I have posted a poem not yet posted there and possibly still a draft. An example is “Happy Summer Day.” Politics has been the subject of a large number of posts, including this recent one: “Letter to Senator Joe Manchin.”

I suspect that I have written more posts about the Episcopal Church, its liturgies, and its politics than about any other subject. Although such posts are not of general interest, they sometimes attract more readers than my other essays. Episcopalians are passionate about things Episcopalian. Many such posts have chronicled and commented on the split between loyal Episcopalians and reactionary insurgents that resulted in the splitting up of the Episcopal Diocese of Pittsburgh. An example of a newsworthy post about the diocese is “Trinity Cathedral Casts Its Lot with TEC.” A sample liturgical (and rather wonky) post would be “Line Breaks in the BCP’s Rendering of the Nicene Creed.”

To date, I have published just under 1500 posts. This seems a good time to list some of my favorite posts. The list is chronological and might be different if I made the list tomorrow or thought about it for a month. (Note that some external links may not be current.)

• “Sarah Hughes” (2/22/2002)—a celebration of a great figure skating performance
• “Far Apart” (1/5/2003)—one of many posts about language
• “Another Comma Problem” (8/16/2005)—I’ll admit it. I’m a punctuation nerd.
• “A Pittsburgh Lament” (11/30/2007)—I’m not above highlighting the words of others.
• “The Ignorant Vote” (5/9/2008)—I was always wary of Hillary Clinton as a presidential candidate.
• “Whither Pittsburgh” (6/26/2008)—anticipating the coming split of the diocese
• “Training at the Donut Shop” (11/18/2008)—I’ve included this for comic relief.
• “‘Hail Barack Obama’ in the Post-Gazette” (1/21/2009)—My inauguration poem made it into the newspaper.
• “Saving Anglicanism” (6/8/2009)—This piece is a bit perplexing out of context. Most notably, it links to a 15-page essay of mine that I am proud to have written.
• “Goodbye, Mary Travers” (9/18/2009)—a tribute to the M of PP&M
• “All Things Bright and Beautiful” (10/3/2009)—Be careful what you’re thankful for.
• “Shall the ‘Orthodox’ Anglicans Win?” (11/16/2009)—Harry Emerson Fosdick’s famous sermon has new relevance for Anglicanism.
• “‘Lost’ Loses; ‘Babylon 5’ Retains Title” (5/24/2010)—The title is “Best Long-running Series with a Coherent and Satisfying Main Plot.”
• “Horseshoe Curve” (8/14/2011)—visit to a famous landmark
• “Winemaking at Adams County Winery“ (10/20/2011)—Two videos are included made with my son the winemaker. Later videos became increasingly funny.
• “A (Very) Close Look at Doll’s Pro-Covenant Essay” (1/28/2012)—one of many posts attacking the idea of a covenant for the Anglican Communion
• “Snatching Defeat from the Jaws of Victory: How Not to Elect a Bishop” (4/22/12)—analysis of an episcopal election
• “A Preëmptive Political Post” (9/2/2012)—a kind of personal platform for the upcoming election
• “Curve-stitch Experiment 2” (12/13/2014)—I have a longstanding interest in such designs.
• “In Praise of Steam Locomotives” (11/21/2015)—my love of railroading shows here
• “Tooting The Episcopal Church’s Horn” (7/20/2016)—my stab at advertising
• “The Vietnam War in Four Pictures” (10/18/2017)—a personal view of an unpopular war
• “Regrets” (4/10/2018)—some personal soul-searching
• “A Different Kind of Presidential Candidate Debate” (9/11/2019)—Why not try something else?
• “A Collection of Collects” (3/30/2020)—a collection of prayers written over the years
• “In Praise of the Diaeresis” (5/4/2020)—an overlooked element of orthography 
• “Our Honored Confederate Generals” (6/15/2020)—on military base names
• “End the Filibuster” (3/6/2021)—The filibuster is dysfunctional in a closely divided Senate.
• “Defending Benjamin Franklin” 3/28/2021)—a plea not to change the name of my high school
• “A Small Step toward Building a Better Sandwich” (10/10/2021)—how to apply salt and pepper
• “A Proposal to Replace the Income Tax” (11/5/2021)—taxing tangible benefits 
• “Further Thoughts on Abortion Rights” (12/9/2021)—extensive essay on abortion rights

A Schroeder Table of Contents

I have now written many posts about the cat I named Schroeder that I began feeding at my back door. For anyone who wants to read the entire story of Schroeder to date, I am providing a table of contents listing all my Schroeder posts.

Date	Post	Comments
11/12/2021	Schroeder	Introducing the cat I have been feeding from time to time.
11/19/2021	Schroeder Update 1	Schroeder visits again. I took a nice portrait.
12/30/2021	Schroeder Update 2	Another nice photograph.
1/11/2022	Schroeder Update 3	I plan to trap Schroeder.
1/12/2022	Schroeder Update 4	I set the trap, but only after Schroeder left.
1/13/2022	Schroeder Update 5 (sort of)	I trapped the wrong cat.
1/14/2022	Schroeder Update 6 (again, sort of)	Ozzie (the wrong cat) goes home.
1/17/2022	Schroeder Update 7	Cat trapping resumes (unsuccessfully).
1/18/2022	Schroeder Update 8 (caught!)	Schroeder is caught and ensconced at home.
1/20/2022	Schroeder Update 9	Schroeder gets improved living arrangements and an appointment with a vet.
1/25/2022	Schroeder Update 10	Schroeder gets fixed and is out of his cage.
2/3/2022	Schroeder Update 11	Schroeder settles in.
3/5/2022	Schroeder Update 12	Schroeder takes another trip to the vet.
6/29/2022	Schroeder Update 13	Schroeder gets the run of the house.
7/4/2022	Schroeder: A Cat Who Needs a New Home	Schroeder is up for adoption.
8/24/2022	Schroeder Goes to His New Home Today	The Schroeder story has a happy ending.

Schroeder Update 11

 Schroeder has been settled in for a few days now. I have taken the cage and a blanket I was loaned back to the animal shelter. I bought a pad to put under the litter box, water bowl, and food bowl. The litter pan I purchased for the cage in which Schroeder was originally confined was technically made for kittens. Schroeder is definitely not a kitten. (The vet pegged him as two years old and just over nine pounds.) I replaced the pan with a much more commodious litter box. There is now much less litter on the floor. (I had been vacuuming a lot.)

Updated facilities for Schroeder

Schroeder continues to be a surprisingly laid-back cat. He spends much of his time in a cozy spot between the couch and a plant stand.

Schroeder’s cozy spot. Stains on the carpet are from the flowerpot above.

Schroeder comes out immediately when I enter the room and readily accepts my petting him. He has shown no interest in toys, whether or not they contain catnip. I can pick him up, but he immediately jumps down when I try to put him on my lap. Good photos of the cat are hard to get because he is either in his favorite spot (see above) or very close to me.

Schroeder at my feet.

Note: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.

Schroeder Update 10

 Yesterday was the day I was to take Schroeder to a neutering clinic to have him fixed, vaccinated, and given other veterinary care. I felt fortunate to have found out about this opportunity to give him all the immediate care he needs at an affordable price. The clinic is sponsored by Cat Aid Network.

Cats were to arrive at the clinic between 7:45 and 8:15 am. Since the drive was to take nearly half an hour, I set my alarm for 6 am, an hour later than usual. I ate breakfast and dressed in 45 minutes. The next step was to secure Schroeder in his carrier in preparation for our trip.

Since Schroeder had been spending nearly all his time in a carrier—see a photo of the arrangement I had created for him in my last post—I expected that corralling him for the trip to the clinic would be a snap. When I walked into the room, I saw that he wasn’t in the cage—good. Then I discovered that he wasn’t in the carrier either. He had somehow escaped confinement. This was troublesome but hardly not shocking, as the connection between cage and carrier was more psychological than physical. I quick look around the room found Schroeder hiding on a bookshelf just off the floor. With my leather gloves and heavy-duty Carhartt shirt, I grabbed the cat, thrust him into the carrier, and closed the carrier door.

I pulled out of the driveway at 7:14 am, a minute before my planned departure time. There was light snow, but the drive was uneventful. The address I was given was for an empty warehouse. I arrived a few minutes early and saw that four or five cars with cats were already in the parking lot. After a few minutes, a woman entered the warehouse and emerged with a sign that said SPAY CLINIC and waved the cat owners inside. The building looked like, well, an empty warehouse. There was a small room at the right, and this is where cats in their carriers were being collected. The place had the ambiance of a pre-Roe back-alley abortion clinic. (I later learned that procedures were not performed in the warehouse room but in a truck that arrive later with two actual veterinarians.) I left Schroeder after filling out a couple of forms and drove home in more light snow.

About 3:30 pm, got the call that Schroeder was ready to be picked up. By this time, the snow was a little heavier, but the retrieval went smoothly. I wrote a check for the veterinarian services. This was the first time I had written a check in a year or maybe two years. Only cash or checks were accepted. (Who writes checks anymore?) I picked up Schroeder in his carrier and headed home.

When I returned home about 4:30, I opened the door of the carrier and let Schroeder roam about. He was most interested in food and water and seemed none the worse for wear. (He had been given an injection for pain.) In the evening, he was walking about, nuzzling my leg, allowing me to pet him, and even letting me pick him up. Suddenly, he seemed very socialized. When left alone, he retreated to a cozy corner he found between the couch and a plant stand.

I am cautiously optimistic that Schroeder will be an adoptable cat, though I will have to find a home for him. I had thought him quite young, but the vets apparently concluded that he is about two years old.

For now, I am removing the cage and carrier and letting Schroeder range about the room. I’ll write more about him when there’s something interesting to say.

Schroeder back home before I removed the cage and carrier.

Note: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.

Schroeder Update 9

The enclosure I set up for Schroeder when I brought him home from the animal shelter—see details here—was frankly jury-rigged. Since I didn’t have a proper litter pan, I fashioned one from a cardboard box. I had some litter-box liners I could use, so this sort of worked. I almost immediately constructed another one from a smaller box to give the cat a bit more room in the enclosure, however. Schroeder seemed to be spending all his time sitting in the makeshift litter pan. The next day, there was litter everywhere, including in the food and water bowls. I removed the bowls for cleaning, and, when I filled the food bowl, the cat at voraciously. I gave him a second helping.

By this time, I had opened the enclosure door and placed an open carrier in front of it. This gave Schroeder a sort of second room to his temporary home. Today, I found a proper litter pan. It is designed for a kitten, but it should be serviceable, and it takes up less room than my cardboard pans.

The current setup for Schroeder looks like this:

Where you may ask, is the cat? Well, he is in the carrier on the left. He has been there all day and has hardly moved. As far as I can tell, he has neither drunk, nor eaten, nor used the litter pan. I have tried to coax him out of hiding, but he has been, shall I say, unmoved. I have—wisely, I hope—not tried to dislodge him. Assuming he is not suffering from depression or catatonia—note the clever use of the term there—he will have to show himself eventually.

The good news is that on Monday, four days from now, I will be taking Schroeder to a clinic sponsored by Cat Aid Network. He will be neutered, vaccinated, and otherwise cared for. Between now and then, I’m hoping that Schroeder and I will become friends.

Stay tuned for further updates.

Note: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.

Schroeder Update 8 (caught!)

It was very cold today, and there was about 9 inches of snow on the ground. I noticed that there were prints in the snow leading to the small shelter I had put outside in the hope that Schroeder would find it and use it as a refuge from the cold. (There is a picture of the shelter in yesterday’s post.) I had not put the trap out today thinking that it might not work well in the snow.

In the early afternoon, I saw Schroeder leaning against the glass surrounding the back door. I quickly got a food bowl for him. When I opened the door, he clearly wanted to come inside. I put out the bowl, closed the door, and took a moment to think. The cat was clearly hungry, so perhaps I could induce him to enter the trap. I removed the food bowl and put out the trap, which had more food already inside. Schroeder walked around the trap, eying the food. Eventually, he entered the trap, but, to my surprise, he didn’t trigger the door that would have trapped him inside. (The trigger for the trap is a metal plate just in front of the bait.) I tried to close the trap door, but the cat came out. I decided to go inside and see what would happen next.

A few minutes later, I saw that Schroeder was inside the trap, and the door had been triggered. I had caught my intended quarry!

I brought the trap inside and was surprised that the cat was not struggling, though he did protest verbally a little. I set the trap down so I could call the shelter. The photo below shows Schroeder just after I brought him inside. Note the snow still clinging to the trap.

The next step was to take trap and cat to the animal shelter to check for a chip. The trip took 10 minutes or so, and I heard not a sound from Schroeder. It took a few minutes to check if the cat was chipped, as he really didn’t seem to want to move. We finally succeeded in checking. As I expected, there was no chip. Schroeder seemed to be on his own.

It isn’t clear what the step after neutering should be. Is this cat adoptable or will he need to be returned to the wild? The shelter did not have room for him, but I was sent home with Schroeder in a cage. On the way home, I was deciding where to put the new boarder. For safety’s sake, I wanted to keep him away from my own cats.

When I got home, I put Schroeder in a room I could close off (though Linus seemed to sense that something was up). It took a few tries before I constructed an adequate litter box and found bowls that took up as little room as possible in the modest cage (approximately 24x17 inches). I took the photo below once the cage was equipped with litter, food, and water. After the photo was taken, I replaced all three containers with smaller ones to give Schroeder as much room as possible.

Schroeder has been very quiet and still. I have not tried to handle him at all. Tomorrow, we’ll see if we can be friends.

Note: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.

Terrorism? Really?

President Biden called the hostage incident in a Texas synagogue “an act of terror.” The FBI, which is now investigating the 11-hour standoff that resulted in no casualties other than the hostage-taker, is calling the event “terrorism-related.”

Given that the perpetrator, Malik Faisal Akram, apparently demanded the release of convicted terrorist Aafia Siddiqui, the “terrorism-related” description appears justified. But did Akram really commit “an act of terror,” as the president asserted? Was he himself a terrorist?

Not everyone agrees on just what terrorism is. Merriam-Webster offers a straightforward definition:

the systematic use of terror especially as a means of coercion

Merriam-Webster further provides multiple definitions of terror, including:

a state of intense or overwhelming fear
or

violence or the threat of violence used as a weapon of intimidation or coercion, especially violent or destructive acts (such as bombing) committed by groups in order to intimidate a population or government into granting their demands

The first definition captures the meaning of terror as a human emotion. For example, someone trapped in a burning building and facing a horrible death is surely experiencing terror. The second definition seems too broad, though the description following especially captures what most of us think of as terror or terrorism.

Malik Faisal Akram did indeed employ “violence or the threat of violence used as a weapon of intimidation or coercion.” But does not an armed bank robber do the same? Yet it would be viewed as odd to call the run-of-the-mill bank robber a terrorist.

Akram did not seek to intimidate the government or American citizens generally. As most of us understand terrorism, it necessarily involves inspiring fear (i.e., terror) in a wide audience. For example, flying airplanes into the World Trade Towers was a crime, but it was certainly also an act of terrorism. It scared the shit out of the entire country, which, no doubt, was the desired effect. Akram’s deeds not so much. He was a kidnapper and extortionist, and his crimes may have arisen in part from antisemitic animus. But I do not think him a terrorist.

President Biden, like many of us, was appalled by Akram’s actions. Rather than thinking deeply about the matter before speaking, he used the word “terror” because of the reaction that word elicits. He acted as many dictators do, labeling any violent act they dislike or fear as “terrorism.”

After 9/11, the words “terror” and “terrorism” themselves have become terrifying. They have become weapons in the hands of self-serving politicians because they call forth such visceral reactions and discourage further rational thought.

I do not believe that President Biden had ulterior motives in saying what he did. He is, after all, known for his less-than-precise declarations. This is not to excuse him, of course, and one could wish that, as President of the United States, he would edit his pronouncements more carefully. I think the president simply meant that Malik Faisal Akram did a really bad thing, something that was more reprehensible for having been committed inside a synagogue during a worship service. What he did was terrible, but it was not an act of terror.

Schroeder Update 7

My previous post about trying to capture Schroeder can be found here.

Yesterday was a frustrating day. I got up, went to the bathroom, and fed the cats. As I began fixing breakfast, I noticed that Charlie was staring out the back door. Sure enough, Schroeder was there, and I hadn’t put out the trap. It was a cold day (about 12 degrees), so I put out a bowl of food for the cat. Schroeder ate, though not all that much. After his snack, He sat for a time under the deck, a few yards from the back door. Since any water nearby would be frozen, I put out a bowl of water as well. Schroeder seemed uninterested.

After Schroeder went away, I put out the trap and a cat shelter that my own cats have never used. I thought the shelter might be attractive in the bitter cold. (See photo below,)

My visitor did not return. Snow began falling about 3 PM, and it was supposed to continue for 24 hours or so. Since I didn’t want to drive to the animal shelter in the snow should I trap Schroeder, I brought the trap inside.

This morning, there is at least six inches of snow on the ground, and it’s still snowing. Cat trapping will resume tomorrow.

Note: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.

Schroeder Update 6 (again, sort of)

Let me begin by saying that, despite deploying the trap again today, I did not capture Schroeder.

A neighbor reminded me that I had a list of e-mail addresses of people in the neighborhood. Hoping that someone knew something about the orange tabby I caught in the trap yesterday, I sent a message to all my neighbors. It didn’t take long to get a message back that an orange tabby had escaped his home and was missing. It seemed unlikely that there were two orange tabbies roaming about, but I was perplexed by having been told that the escaped cat was chipped. Nevertheless, I told my neighbor that the cat I had trapped was at a local shelter. The cat, Ozymandias (Ozzie for short), a neutered male, was retrieved from the shelter this afternoon. As it happens, the cat was inherited from a relative who said the cat was chipped, but that may have been a misrepresentation. (Ozymandias is a name I had never heard before. I doubt that many cats are given this name.)

Anyway, the orange tabby adventure has ended happily. The trap will be set out tomorrow in the hope of capturing Schroeder.

As I mentioned yesterday, I forgot to take a picture of the cat I trapped. His owners have kindly provided a couple of pictures of Ozzie at home:

Note: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.

Schroeder Update 5 (sort of)

As I reported yesterday, I put out a trap in hopes of capturing Schroeder. I brought the trap inside last night, as I did not want to capture any of the wildlife that sometimes shows up under my bird feeders at night. I returned the trap outdoors early this morning and gave it a look from time to time.

A little bit before noon, I saw that the trap held a cat. Alas, the cat was not Schroeder! Instead, I had caught an orange tabby I had seen a few times before. This cat was larger than Schroeder and, I assumed, older. When I went out to the trap, the cat was running about frantically and loudly protesting its confinement. I knew my next step was to check whether the cat had an identifying chip. I didn’t know what the next step was going to be after that.

I put the trap and cat into the car and drove to the animal shelter. The cat was calmer by the time we arrived, though it meowed constantly during the trip. It was not possible to check for a chip while the cat was in the trap, so the cat, Judy—a shelter employee, not her real name—and I went into a small bathroom where, if the cat eluded human control, it couldn’t get far. (I don’t yet know if the animal is male or female and didn’t make any attempt to find out.) We opened the trap, got the cat’s head and neck out, and scanned for a chip. The scan was negative.

At this point, I was afraid I would face an unpleasant choice: return the cat to where I found it or have it neutered at my expense and return it to where I found it. The former option seemed to miss an opportunity, but the latter one would be costly without advancing my original objective.

Judy was convinced that the cat was not feral; once out of the trap, he could be handled without the huge pair of gloves Judy brought into the bathroom. She left me with the cat and returned with a carrier. I was afraid this was being lent to me to take the animal away. But no. the cat was to stay at the shelter for now. I filled out a form identifying me and the place the cat was captured, and I was sent on my way with the now-empty trap.

When I got home, I decided not to put the trap outside again; the day had been too traumatic. Instead, I returned to folding underwear I had washed earlier. I did this with the help of a glass of brandy to calm my nerves. I’ll put out the trap in hopes of catching Schroeder tomorrow. Since I know the orange cat hangs around the neighborhood, I plan to ask around to learn if anyone admits to owning the cat or knows who does.

I did take away some lessons from today’s adventure. First, when you set a trap, you can’t guarantee what you’re going to catch. I had worried about catching a raccoon or (heaven forbid) a skunk. I hadn’t considered that I might catch another cat. Second, a trapped animal can seem pretty wild, and I found this unnerving. When I brought the trap inside, the cat stopped moving about frantically, though it was still very vocal. I tried talking to the cat in reassuring tones and assumed that, even caged, there was something to be said for being in a warm place on a cold January day. Finally, I learned that my choice of a stainless steel bowl to hold the bait (i.e., cat food) was a good choice. Both cat and bowl seemed to be flying about the trap when I went out to investigate what I had caught.

Well, we’ll see what we catch tomorrow.

P.S. I meant to take a picture of the orange tabby, but, amid all the excitement, I forgot to do it.

 Update, 1/14/2022. Rereading my post today, I found several errors resulting from my having written rather hurriedly yesterday. These have been corrected.

Note: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.

Schroeder Update 4

Schroeder came by again today. I had not yet eaten breakfast when I saw Linus looking intently out the glass near the bottom of the door. He then moved to look out the glass on the side of the door. I looked outside and there was Schroeder. I quickly filled a bowl for him with cat food and set it outside. A couple of hours later, I picked up a trap from a local animal shelter and placed it outside.

Here is a picture of the trap, filled with food and armed:

I don’t know if Schroeder is smart enough to notice the food but not smart enough to recognize the danger of being trapped. I also worry that I may trap other non-feline wildlife in the area.

Note: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.

Schroeder Update 3

 I hadn’t seen Schroeder since my last post about him on December 30. He showed up today in 16-degree weather. I really am concerned about his ability to deal with the cold. I fed him as usual, and he ate with particular enthusiasm. 

My plan is to capture Schroeder eventually, have him checked for a chip, and, assuming that process does not point to a permanent home, have him neutered and sent on his way. He likely is not adoptable. I tried to grab him today—I had positioned gloves near the door to be used on such an occasion—but I was unsuccessful. He clearly did not want to be captured, and I did not want to be clawed or bitten. He fought me vigorously, but I didn’t let the contest continue beyond a moment or two.

I have arranged to pick up a trap tomorrow to be used in the attempt to capture the cat without damage to either of us.

Stay tuned for the next chapter in this story.

Note: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.

A Explanation for Loyalty to Trump

 

Schroeder Update 2

The cat I’ve named Schroeder continues to show up at my back door from time to time. (See my last post about him here.) Seldom do I see him on successive days. From time to time, however, I see Schroeder sitting a few feet away waiting for me to put out some cat food for him. I hope eventually to capture him, have him checked for a chip—I suspect he has none—and have him neutered. I doubt he is adoptable, but it’s hard to know for sure. He has let me pet him a bit, but he doesn’t seem crazy about that. I look outside often to see if Schroeder is around, but Linus spots him at least as often as I do.

Here’s the latest picture of my little friend:
 

Note: Schroeder’s story to date can be followed here.