Two funny people died this week. Dick Capri, who was 93, was a Catskills comic. He was Italian but was so much a part of the Jewish comedy world that the Friars Club held a combination roast and bar mitzvah for him in 2004. He knew (and used in his act) more Yiddish than many of the Jewish comics.
He said he could trace his lineage to biblical times, via DNA research. “My ancestors were at the Last Supper, but not at the head table. They were at Table Four, where one of them won the centerpiece.”
At the Friars Club roast he was presented with a yarmulke that was sewn with green, white, and red fabric, for the Italian flag. His life-partner, Alison Kaplan, said he was buried with it.
Lenny Randle, who died last Sunday at the age of 75 (ouch), was playing third for Seattle v. KC on May 27, 1981 (Linda’s birthday!), when Amos Otis tapped a slow roller down the third-base line. It was the type of squibbler the announcers invariably say the infielder “wisely let roll foul.” But this roller wasn’t rolling foul so fast. So, as the obit in the NYT put it, “Randle dropped to his hands and knees and blew on the ball, huffing and puffing until it veered foul. The home plate umpire, Larry McCoy, called it a foul ball.” KC skipper Jim Frey protested and the call was reversed. But it was Randle’s argument in his defense that earned him a spot of honor in Owl Chatter. He claimed he was talking to the ball, not blowing on it. “I said ‘Please go foul, go foul’ — I just used the power of suggestion,” Randle insisted.
He had another “moment” on July 13, 1977. He was batting for the Mets with Ray Burris pitching for the Cubs. As Burris went into his windup, the power on the entire eastern coast of the U.S. suddenly went out. It was the great blackout. Randle explained he didn’t know if Burris threw the ball or not so he just swung. Then, he didn’t know if he hit the ball or not, so he just ran. He said when he pulled into second base Chicago’s Manny Trillo “was waiting for me to hug and kiss him.”
Randle played for the Yankees briefly. They acquired him on August 3, 1979, the day after Thurman Munson died in a plane crash. His MLB career ended with Seattle in 1982, but he continued playing and then managing in the Italian Baseball League, the first major leaguer to do so. Fans nicknamed him “Cappuccino” for his “hard-hustling play, charismatic swagger and impish sense of humor.”
Randle is survived by his wife Linda, whom he met in elementary school, three sons, three grandchildren, and six siblings. Linda said of him, “He was like the wind that can never be harnessed. He was never upset, mad or mean, and always had something positive to give to you.” He remains the only MLB player ever to talk a ball into rolling foul.
Rest in peace, Lenny.
This poem is from the Poem-a-Day feature of Poets.org. It’s by Michael Hettich and is called “The Angels.” It rewards repeated readings.
As the day turned to dusk, we sensed we could feel
the people we’d loved and lost calling
like a breeze that suggests itself but never
actually awakens the trees. She told me
again about the moment she decided to let
our first child go so she could go on
living herself, and I remembered
how once, as a young man, I’d walked by myself
for a day, until I was lost and came
to a boulder and a creek. She remembered yearning
to comfort our baby after we’d scattered
her ashes, and I remembered that the sun
had been warm; the sound of the creek had filled me
with something as different from thought or song
as a dream. She said she still dreamed of Audrey,
our lost child. And then I told her again
that when dusk fell, a clutch of black birds landed.
Even when I stood up and gestured, there
in that unfamiliar landscape, they refused to fly away.
I think they were hungry. But I had nowhere else to go,
so I lay down under stars so sharp
in that darkness they hurt my eyes, even
when my eyes were closed. All night those black birds
stood watching, waiting for something. Like angels,
she said then and laughed, though I don’t think she was joking.
Paul Maynell, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK), raises the following question:
When I make a cup of tea do I open the fridge use the milk then put it back?Or do I take out the milk, close the door, then reopen the door to put the milk back in?
Which will heat the fridge up more ? Open the door (creating a vortex that drags the cold air out), then close the door, make drink, then open and close door to put milk back in? OR open the door, leave the door open while putting milk into drink (allowing cold air to fall out) then close door again?
There were 79 comments. Here are the dullest.
Alex Paul: What would be the effect on the room temperature? Should this also be factored in? Are you partially cooling it? Or perhaps you are returning it to the norm following heating by the kettle.
Simon Strudwick: My gut feel would be open door, extract and pour milk, replace in fridge then close door. Less wear and tear on hinges.
Debbie Mackay: Have you ever had a fridge with broken hinges?
Paul: I have never known anyone to wear out fridge hinges.
Avi Liveson: I would suggest to save time we contract “fridge hinges” to “fringes,” but as fringes already exists as a word, it’s best we not do so, to avoid confusion.
Ruth Hunt: I have walked into a partially open fridge door, which then swung shut trapping my thumb between the overhang of the worktop and top of fridge door. The nail has never grown normally since. SO: shut the damn door!
Andrea Barratt: It depends on how far away the cup is from the fridge. If cups are next to the fridge then leave it open. If the cups are a few steps away or in another room then close the fridge door.
Richard Hall: All fridges are low-power heat exchangers. Leaving the door open for a while will have little effect; the items within will not appreciably warm. The device itself will not either. The air within is a poor conductor and will have little effect on the latter, regardless of whether the door is opened once or twice, or left open for a few minutes. I would suggest that correct procedure is to boil a kettle, pour and allow the tea to brew, fetch the milk and add and return directly to the fridge on the same journey as the spoon to the sink for maximum efficiency. The fridge isn’t relevant.
Paul: But my fridge is quite empty. As my room is heated to 20°c and the fridge is 5°c, I expect the cold air to fall out of the fridge and hot air to go in at the top but I need a thermal camera to see what happens in practice.
Avi Liveson: Yes, definitely buy a thermal camera and let us know what you learn.
Richard Hall: I’m not a physicist but I don’t think one lot of air replaces the other. The colder air is denser and will have higher pressure. When it meets the warmer air there will be a pressure drop at the interface. However, air is a poor conductor of energy so this is not exactly a ‘whoosh’.
Robbie Robb: It seems counter-intuitive to me to leave the fridge door open for longer than necessary. I am no physicist, and my understanding of thermodynamics is basic at best, but the fridge is surely meant to be kept closed apart from when needing to take something out or put something in. I appreciate that leaving it open for a short time might not have a significant effect, but my parents wouldn’t have approved. An open fridge door is just wrong.
Annabelle MacKendrick: Another variable is if you get distracted between retrieving the milk from the fridge and pouring it into the tea.
There was some wonderful stuff in today’s NYTXW. First, the clue/answer at 21D. The clue: “‘That’s rather unfortunate,’ dismissively.” The answer: SUCKS TO BE YOU. At 37A, “Words before someone finally snaps?” SAY CHEESE.
Then, at 48D, the clue was “Simple question on a high schooler’s hand-drawn poster.” You know about this business? The answer was PROM, and it’s a reference to “prom-posals” which have become a big thing. Kids are coming up with creative ways to ask their babes to the prom.
[God — remember when you could talk to a high school girl without risking arrest? Those greasy pimply boys have no idea they are in Eden.]
Yesterday, “Average Joe’s name (that’s not Joe)” was a play on the word “average.” The answer was NORM.
Ever fall in love with the cute check-out girl (or guy) at the supermarket? Ever not? Rex shared this sweet song called Norman 3, by Teenage Fanclub.
Sam and Sarah have monitors in Morris’s and Harold’s rooms, so you can hear what’s going on up there from down in the kitchen, where I usually hang. So I could hear Sam with Morris trying to get him to nap. It was quite a negotiation. Every three-year-old is a lawyer. Sam was finally able to work out a deal with Morris that would get Morris napping after ten more minutes of some sort of playing. Eventually, I heard the door click and Sam came downstairs. I referred to the arrangement Sam and Morris hammered out as a “pre-naptial agreement.”
See you tomorrow!
The Wellington Files 