Category Archives: Columns

A Sheep Dog, A Sheared Sheep

by Woody

Woody’s award-winning novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available (signed copies) here on my home page and also (unsigned) at Amazon (click here), other online retailers, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Ross Millar, a New Zealand sheep farmer, for fifty years has lived the song “Whistle While You Work.”

“I am the Elton John of whistling,” he told me not long ago, with a wink, for he is as humbly down-to-earth as his dirty work boots.

Watching Sir Ross in concert is both sight and sound to behold as he guides his working dogs with a sundry of whistled notes that carry a country mile, even piercing through wind, and create a lovely melody.

Racing up a mountainside, Scottie, a star border collie, looked like a black-and-white-drone-with-a-tail skimming just above the grass and shrub. Instead of a handheld radio controller, Ross steered Scottie with short and long whistle blasts, and combinations, the tone and inflection varying in a precise musical language.

Ross Millar and a newly shorn sheep and a pile of wool.

“The dog’s job is to do what I tell him to do,” Ross the boss noted frankly. “And I will keep telling him all day long if I need to until he does it.”

Scottie only needed about seven minutes to silently herd a lone sheep from half a mile away up in the foothills back down down to Ross’s side.

“The sheep thinks ‘this is a wolf and I’m breakfast, lunch, or dinner,’ ” Ross explained as to why Scottie need not bark to do his job.

During the demonstration, Ross did his job like a pool shark calling shots. He would tell a dozen spectators precisely what he wanted Scottie to do: “Turn left – right – stop – come – go above – go around – go down – that’ll do.”

And then: Tweet! – Tooooooot! – TWEETtweeeetTOOT! – or some other shrill melody and Scottie would “muster” the sheep into the side pocket via a bank shot, so to speak. It was nothing shy of amazing.

Here is something else amazing: a working dog on a sheep farm routinely runs ten miles, sometimes as far as a half-marathon, in a single day.

With Scottie’s short work for the moment done, Ross bent to task in the shearing barn. He began by pinning a sheep as a wrestler does an opponent, a feat accomplished with ease for at age sixty-something and standing six-foot-something, topped by thinning grey hair, Ross appears fit enough for competitive rugby.

Next, quick as an Army barber giving a recruit a buzz cut, he sheared the cloud-fluffy-animal as bare-skinned as the day it was born without a single nick and drop of blood or even a patch of razor rash.

Ross said an “expert” can shear a sheep in one and a half minutes – about half the time he had just taken – and tally more than 300 in a working day. Prodded slightly, Ross said that while he was a bit rusty now, he had indeed once been an expert.

Prodded further, privately, Ross told me in his heyday he could shear a sheep in a few ticks under a minute-flat – the equivalent, I guessed, to New Zealander Peter Snell setting the mile world record of 3:54.4 in 1962.

“I love all animals,” Ross said, smiling, as he reassuringly caressed the freshly sheared sheep. “And some humans, too.”

Speaking of humans, I playfully asked if he trained his two children when they were young with whistle commands – to which Ross answered seriously and succinctly, “No.”

When I in turn asked his wife Mary if she did so with her husband, she wryly said with a twinkle, “Oh, yes, but it didn’t take!”

And did he ever try to train her by similar whistling fashion?

Mary, after a short laugh loud as a shepherd’s whistle: “He’s a little smarter than that.”

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.

Comforting In-Flight Entertainment

by Woody

Woody’s award-winning novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available at Amazon (click here), other online retailers, and orderable at all bookshops.

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The in-flight movie screen for Seat 19-B was out of order.

This would have been less bothersome had the passenger in 19-B not brought along a book that he realized, about two chapters in, he had already read.

This, in turn, would have been less bothersome had this recent flight not been from Southern California to New Zealand, a flight of more than 13 hours, a flight so long it took off Wednesday night and landed Friday morning with Thursday disappearing into thin air at 35,000 feet somewhere over the Pacific Ocean.

This would have been less bothersome if the passenger in 19-B was able to sleep on planes and thus had napped through the airborne boredom, and through stretches of rollercoaster-like hair-raising turbulence, until waking up Down Under.

All of this would have been less bothersome if the passenger in 19-B was not me.

And all of this changed for the better when the person in Seat 18-C, one row ahead of me and directly across the aisle to the right, opened a generously sized canvas book bag and, as if it were Mary Poppins’ magical bottomless carpet bag, from it started pulling out an arts and crafts store shelf worth of skeins of yarn – green, gold, red, and two shades of blue – and wooden knitting needles.

Suddenly I was in a time machine transported back half a century, while simultaneously in a flying machine heading forward 6,000 miles, thinking of my mom who was an accomplished knitter. One of the last gifts she gave me before passing away three decades ago was a gorgeous afghan the color of hot chocolate, made lighter by melted marshmallows, with a seashell pattern and tassel fringe.

This knitter, however, reminded me nothing of my mom. For starters, he looked more like a stereotypical motorcycle club member than someone in a knitting club. In his forties, I guessed, unshaven for two days I also guessed, toe to top he wore black boots, blue jeans, faded brown T-shirt with a slightly torn seam on the left shoulder with the short sleeves stretched taut over large biceps, plus tattoo sleeves – a dog’s face, a rabbit wearing a dress, and a butterfly among the images I could make out – on both arms, and a battered baseball cap.

“It distracts me from my fear of flying,” Jason, as I later learned his name to be, shared when I leaned forward to compliment his handiwork/artwork.

Watching him knit was a pleasant distraction for me as well, as calming and entertaining as watching fish in an aquarium.

Jason began by rolling the five skeins into a single ball that speedily grew from a marble into a baseball into a grapefruit into a good-sized cantaloupe that looked like a miniature globe of Earth. More than once, he had to pause his spinning hands in order to untangle a skein that had become as snagged as a back-lashed fishing line in a reel.

Once the knitting began, the two needles flicked and clicked like flashing swords in a Robin Hood fight, all whilst Jason’s fingers danced and his wedding band glinted, and row by row the scarf or sweater or afghan grew, its colors changing at random with some sections wide and others narrow, a yarn sunset unfurling on his lap.

“What are you making?” I asked after we landed.

“A sweater,” Jason answered. “For me.”

He paused and smiled and his round wire-rimmed glasses made him look like a poet or professor, or a knitter certainly, and added: “But my wife will probably steal it.”

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.

Mom’s Act Remains North Star

by Woody

Woody’s award-winning novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available at Amazon (click here), other online retailers, and orderable at all bookshops.

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My mother, bless her honey-sweet steel-strong soul, would be 93 years old had she not died fully half my lifetime ago at age 60. I have been thinking of her even more than usual, not because of her birthday or anniversary of her passing, but because I keep imagining her at an “ICE Out” demonstration.

Indeed, were she alive today, there is no doubt in my heart that Mom would be in the streets marching. Even if she were in a wheelchair, she would be standing up for her fellow man and fellow woman and fellow child, be they Americans with Mayflower roots or naturalized citizens or undocumented immigrants, be they Black or brown or white or green or blue or polka-dotted.

My mom felt injustice to one was injustice for all. It was not lip service from her always-Revlon-red-painted smile, either. She walked the talk. She would have hidden Anne Frank. That is a bold statement, but I believe it with my every fiber.

One story goes a long way in telling you why, from when I was growing up to this very day in spirit, Mom has always been my North Star. It happened a long, long time ago, in the previous century, in 1949, in the Midwest, when Auden – more than a decade before she became my mom – was in high school.

There was a must-go-to prom party and Auden was thrilled to be invited. But her excitement evaporated faster than wet footprints on the scorching cement deck of a swimming pool in August after she found out her good friend Trish had not received an invitation.

Auden’s disappointed sizzled into red-hot anger when she learned why Trish was excluded: because she was Jewish.

Understand, this was not just the party of the year, it was The Party of The Senior Class’s High School Lives. No matter. If Trish was not welcomed, then Auden would not go either. Instead, she invited Trish to her house for their own two-person celebration.

Sometimes, far too often I think, we think one voice or one small act cannot make a big difference. We are wrong. My mom’s mini party turned out to be The Biggest PartyOf Allas a growing cascade of classmates followed her example.

“Injustice,” Mom told me often, “is everyone’s battle.”

I am proud to be my mom’s son and I am proud also to have raised a son who would step in to help a young woman if she were shoved to the ground, that he would ask “Are you okay?” and shield her from further harm. In other words, to be like Alex Pretti who, in the process of his kindness, was recently shot dead by federal agents.

Yes, that could have been my son. And if stepping in to aid a person at a protest demonstration can get you shot in the head while you are being held on the ground, then my daughter is not safe either for she, too, has an alloy of compassion and courage just like her Grandma Auden. Nor are my daughter-in-law and son-in-law safe, for they also are marchers against injustice.

If the First Amendment is no more valued than an old grocery list and journalist Don Lemon is not safe from arrest, than neither am I.

If I am not safe, neither are you.

If you are not safe, neither are your loved ones and friends and neighbors and coworkers and on and on.

What would your own mom want you to do during these trying times?

I know mine’s answer.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.

Pier Bench Is My New Favorite

by Woody

Woody’s award-winning novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available at Amazon (click here), other online retailers, and orderable at all bookshops.

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Continuing the benches theme from the past few weeks, here is a column from my archives from four years ago…

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Do you have a favorite bench?

If so, as I reckon you do, where is it? A short walk from work where you escape for coffee breaks? In a park, perhaps, under a lovely shade tree in the company of songbirds? Or maybe in a cemetery where a bench becomes an outdoor pew?

I had a favorite bench in college, on the edge of campus at the University of California Santa Barbara, high on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Its wooden seat slats sagged a little from age and were a lot weathered by the salty sea air, but the view was anything but threadbare. Indeed, it was a beautiful spot to contemplate a poor test; brood a dating breakup; or simply rest and savor the panoramic scene after a run on the beach below.

Coincidentally, I found a bookend favorite bench on another college campus many years later. Specifically, the University of Southern California’s Founders Park which boasts one specific tree from all 50 states. In this idyllic setting, sitting on a shaded wrought-iron bench on a near weekly basis for nine years – my daughter’s and son’s four-year undergraduate enrollments overlapped one year, plus the latter’s two years of MBA study – I would wait with happy anticipation for classes to get out so we could have lunch together.

Now I have a new favorite bench, one of 49 skirting the historic Ventura Pier. This one is perhaps a third of the way out, on the right-hand side, and affords a spectacular north-facing view towards Surfers Point. Importantly, it has a brass plaque on the top wooden back slat dedicated to: Larry “Coach” Baratte.

Along with two of his “How To Live Rules” – Each Day Is A Blessing and Give Of Yourself And You Will Receive Ten Times In Return – the plaque features a compass rose. The latter is truly fitting because Larry was a human North Star for countless people before brain cancer, after a long war, claimed his precious life at age 60 on May 14, 2020.

The memorial bench was a gift this past Christmas from Larry’s widow, Beth, to their three adult sons, Chase, Collin, and Cole. Making it all the more special is that Larry and Beth talked about it before he passed.

Sitting on “Larry’s Bench” quiets my soul. As the timbers below shudder pleasantly in rhythm with the waves, I like to watch the world spin by. I watch beach runners on shore and dog walkers on the promenade and fishermen further down the pier.

And, of course, I watch the surfers. I watch them straddling their boards, waiting, waiting, rising and dipping as if sitting on an aquatic merry-go-round, then doing their water-walking magic.

Too, I imagine Larry in the distance, in the cove, in the curl of a wave riding a surfboard. Better yet, I see him directly below, swimming around the pier for a workout. Best of all, I feel him sitting next to me, sharing his wisdom and his laugh and his friendship.

Inspired by the myriad of pencils visitors continually place in homage on Henry David Thoreau’s gravestone in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord, Mass., on my most recent visit to “Larry’s Bench” I left behind a coach’s whistle hanging by its lanyard. Maybe this small gesture, or perhaps swim goggles, will catch on. It is pretty to wish so.

Pretty, certainly, is the view. Indeed, “Larry’s Bench” is a most lovely place to take a break from the world’s hustle and bustle and reflect on why “Each Day Is A Blessing.”

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.

Epilogue: New Free Book Bench

by Woody

Woody’s award-winning novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available at Amazon (click here), other online retailers, and orderable at all bookshops.

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Let me begin by borrowing the signature phrase of the late, great radio broadcaster Paul Harvey, “And now the rest of the story…”

Two weeks past in this space I shared the tale of a unique bench I happened upon while out for a run on a woodchip path in Redondo Beach. Situated in the shade of trees, with the salty perfume of the nearby ocean in the air, what made this bench special was that three mornings in a row I found a single book, different each day, resting on the wooden slat seat and bearing a Post-It Note reading: “Free! Good Book. Enjoy Me!”

The first two offerings – “Tuesdays With Morrie” and “Angela’s Ashes,” good books indeed – I had already read. The third book, on the final day of my visit, “The Old Man by the Sea” by Domenico Starnone – not to be confused with Ernest Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea” – was new to me so I took it.

I also took away something else: inspiration to leave a free book on a bench for someone to take and enjoy.

And I knew the perfect bench.

It is about a mile, as the crow flies, from my front door and indeed has crows – and hawks and hummingbirds, osprey and owls, gulls and geese, on and on, even an occasional golden eagle – flying overhead, for the bench is in Ventura’s Harmon Canyon Preserve.

More specifically, this bench is a five-minute stroll from the preserve’s Foothill Road entrance, a relatively flat walk on a dirt pathway wide enough for hikers and trail runners and mountain cyclists. Tucked around a bend, and northwestward facing, it is an idyllic spot to sit and watch the sun set behind the foothills. Directly behind the bench is a sycamore tree, too young now to provide shade, but one day, Nature willing, it will grow into a Joyce Kilmer poem and afford a canopy of coolness to those who find respite here.

All of which is to say this is a most lovely bench, as it must be, for it is a memorial for a most lovely person, Suz Montgomery, who five years ago at age 73 succumbed to cancer after a lengthy courageous battle.

Not long ago, after a long fundraising effort, Suz’s Bench became a reality and a dedication ceremony was held with nearly a hundred family members and friends – Suz had a magical gift of making the latter feel like the former – gathering during a sunset that was so gorgeous it made you think Suz was somehow responsible, once more making those who loved her smile.

Suz’s Bench has become one of my favorite sanctums, a place to escape the busyness of life, a place to savor fresh air and postcard scenery and listen to avian symphonies and watch birds float on updrafts like feather kites and, of course, a tranquil place to read.

Inspired by the free book bench on the woodchip running path in Redondo Beach, I have started leaving books now and again on Suz’s Bench, one at a time, each with a Post-It Note: “Free! Take Me! Enjoy!” Because my dear friend died before my debut novel “The Butterfly Tree” was published, it was my wistful first offering.

I hope the recipients have enjoyed these token tomes and that other hikers follow in kind in giving so this becomes the littlest of Little Free Libraries – Suz’s Free Book Bench – because I think she would have liked that.

“And now you know,” as Paul Harvey would conclude, “the rest of the story.”

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.

“Free! Very Good! Read Me!”

by Woody

Woody’s award-winning novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available at Amazon (click here), other online retailers, and orderable at all bookshops.

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Good books can help you run away from wherever you are, but the reverse happened to me a short while ago: running brought me to good books.

Here is how it happened…

While spending a few days visiting my son’s family in Redondo Beach, I went for my daily run on a local woodchip path that is popular for good reason as it so near the ocean as to carry salty perfume in the air and furthermore is amply lined on either side by trees whose canopies form a tunnel of shade.

The pathway stretches for some four miles in a park-like median between two heavily trafficked roads. The cross streets are few and far between and not very busy, sans just a couple with stoplights, making the soft trail idyllic for clearing the mind and getting lost in one’s thoughts without worrying about four-wheeled vehicles.

Along the footpath are numerous wooden benches, all on the eastern side and facing toward sunset, most with memorial plaques on the backrests. On this recent morning, azure-skied and summertime-warm by 10 o’clock, one of the benches caught my attention. Specifically, I noticed a book resting on the slatted seat, all alone, its owner apparently having stepped away for a moment or, perhaps, accidentally forgot it behind entirely.

Curious of its title, but not so much so as to stop and look, I continued on my way without pause, enjoying the ease and rhythm of my stride, enjoying the sunshine, enjoying the shared company of numerous flitting monarch butterflies here and there as well as more than a few other runners plus many, many walkers. The latter were generally side-by-side in pairs, friends with slight spacing between them as they talked; couples closer together holding hands; moms pushing strollers; folks with dogs on leash; and, most memorably, an elderly woman alongside a younger man – her son perhaps, or a healthcare aide – lovingly helping her take a slow stroll using a wheeled walker that did not roll well at all on the woodchips.

After reaching the path’s distant endpoint, I turned around and headed back whence I began and when I came to the bench again the abandoned paperback was still there. Curiosity now got the better of me and I stopped, stepped close enough to see its title – Mitch Albom’s “Tuesdays With Morrie,” a memorable book I read years ago – then quickly resumed my run.

Next day, same path, same bench, but a different orphaned book: “Angela’s Ashes” by Frank McCourt. Newspapers discarded in public are common, even today as newsprint editions become more rare, but an abandoned book brings to mind a lost puppy in need of rescuing. Looking around and seeing no likely owner, only fellow runners and walkers and dogs, I picked up the hardback edition and on the back cover found a blue Post-It Note: “Free! Good Book. Enjoy Me!”

Having already read this Pulitzer Prize-winning memoir, I left it for someone else to find and enjoy for it is indeed a good book. The curator of this Little Free Library Bench was two-for-two in my eyes.

Third day in a row on these knee-friendly woodchips, my last run of this visit, I was greeted by an abandoned hardcover I initially thought was Ernest Hemingway’s quintessential “Old Man and the Sea” but in a beat realized it was actually “The Old Man by the Sea” by Domenico Starnone. Another blue sticky note read: “Free! Very Good! Read Me!”

Intrigued, I jogged off with it in hand.

Epilogue: It lived up to its Post-It Note review.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.

Young Year In Need Of Older Wisdom

by Woody

Woody’s award-winning novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available at Amazon (click here), other online retailers, and orderable at all bookshops.

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On New Year’s Eve an old Irish tradition calls for opening your front door at midnight to let out the Old Year. Perhaps two nights past, it strikes me belatedly, we should also have opened the back door, side door and garage door, plus all the windows and even the chimney chute, because 2025 seemed to overstay its welcome like a rude party guest.

As we move forward in 2026, some wise words of inspiration might be welcomed, so here are some favorite quotes I have saved over the years for just such an occasion.

“This is a wonderful day. I have never seen this one before.” – Maya Angelou

“Write in on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.” – Kurt Vonnegut

“Love is the bridge between you and everything.” – Rumi

“That best portion of a good man’s life: His little, nameless acts of kindness and love.” – William Wordsworth

“The hands of a clock can measure a long life, but it is our hands that can make it a good life.” – my son Greg Woodburn

“Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you’ll look back and realize they were big things.” – Kurt Vonnegut

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“If you don’t make an effort to help others less fortunate than you, then you’re just wasting your time on Earth.” – Wayne Bryan, my mentor and a role model of his words

“Great people are those who make others feel that they, too, can become great.” – Mark Twain

“If you can give nothing else, give encouragement.” – Wayne Bryan again

“All kids need is a little help, a little hope and somebody who believes in them.” – Magic Johnson

“A torn jacket is soon mended, but hard words bruise the heart of a child.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“Remember that the most valuable antiques are dear old friends.” – H. Jackson Brown

“If there’s someone whose friendship you treasure, be sure to tell them now, don’t wait for a memorial service to say it.” Chuck Thomas, my dear predecessor in this space

“If you are planning for a year, sow rice; for a decade, plant trees; for a lifetime, educate people.” – Chinese proverb

“Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds that you plant.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” – Audrey Hepburn

“Don’t tell me about your dreams of a castle, show me the stones you laid today.” – Wayne Bryan once more

“You ask me about the past, you ask me about the future, the only way to be happy is to be living right now.” – Yvon Chouinard

“You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.” – C.S. Lewis

“Remember this, the choices you make in life, make you.” – John Wooden

“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.” – Henry David Thoreau

“Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted.” – John Lennon

“It’s okay to sometimes have cookies for breakfast.” – Woody Woodburn

“Wishing you a masterpiece New Year!” – me again

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.

Final Gift Sports Balls Tally Is…

by Woody

Woody’s award-winning novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available at Amazon (click here), other online retailers, and orderable at all bookshops.

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Good Ol’ Saint Nick, when I was seven, came through with a purple stingray with a banana seat that I wished for, my first bicycle that was not a hand-me-down from my two older brothers. As magical as that morning was, however, my favorite Christmas is a tie between the last 25 or so thanks to you generous readers making “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive” an annual success.

“Life is hard enough,” noted Lauren Siegel, who donated 15 smiles this year, “without a kid having to worry if he or she has a ball to play sports with.” Others making life easier for local kids include…

Steve Askay donated five balls “in memory of my granddaughter Mabel” who tragically died in an accident at age 6, and Rebecca Fox gave three balls “in memory of our dear friend Doris Cowart who lived an amazing 101 years!”

Shelly and Steve Brown gave one ball for each of their “six spectacular grands” who excitedly made the selections and Linda and Jerry Mendelsohn, with the shopping help of grandchildren Blakely, Asher, Garrick, Dannika, Parker and Joy, gave 28 balls.

Local coaching legends Joe Vaughan and Mickey Perry assisted with 10 basketballs; Kym King, “in memory of my beloved puppers Scarlett,” also donated 10; as did Mary and Rick Whiting; Lynne and Don Steensma likewise; and also Susan Hall.

Leslie and Mike De Los Santos donated 10 balls in memory of Leslie’s father, Arthur Seifert, “who enjoyed playing basketball on courts throughout the area until he was 80 years old.”

David Hilty, on behalf of The Bench Warmer, donated nine balls, as did Patricia and Paul Schuster “in honor of the coaches at Buena High School.”

Cathy and Gary Metelak “cheerfully” gave 11 balls; Bobbie and Dave Williams donated “with great pleasure” half a dozen; and Bobbin and Steve Yarbrough “happily” gave four, as did Sandie and Jim Arthur.

Brenda and Doug Terzian gave a dozen balls in honor of their daughters; Laura McAvoy and Sol Chooljian donated ten more; Kent Brinkmeyer added four; Colleen Scott gave three; and Chris Huseth added two.

Erin and Mike Powers donated five balls “in memory of Lance Eaton for his leadership of the Arc Foundation of Ventura County as well as his lifelong, unwavering support of people with intellectual and developmental disabilities.”

Ruth Vomund and Gary Tuttle donated two basketballs “in honor of Bob Tuttle and retired Nordhoff High coach Ted Cotti,” and Susan and Tom Doria donated half a dozen balls “in memory of Ventura College Hall-of-Fame coach and mentor Larry Baratte.”

Ann Cowan gave 10 basketballs in honor of her late husband Jim Cowan, and an anonymous donor gave a dozen “in memory of Jim Cowan and Dr. Jim Woodburn III: two wonderful men who are very much missed.”

Another anonymous donor gave 10 basketballs in memory of John Wooden, and Daniel Eggertsen, inspired partly by Coach Wooden’s “Pyramid of Success,” also donated 10, noting: “In an age of AI, gadgetry, and obesity, what better way to try and help keep our youth grounded to things that really matter – like the camaraderie and life lessons borne from sport.”

The Pleasant Valley-Somis-Camarillo Lions Club collectively gave 45 balls; Patrons of The Goebel Adult Community Center in Thousand Oaks gave 73; and in another group effort, a whopping 307 balls were donated by the “A Team” of family members and friends who wished to be acknowledged by first names only: “Mom” Alma, Allen and Alast, Michael and Reina, Rick and Nancy, Andy and Connie, Lou and Carmen, Alma and Tomas, Shaun and Ruth, John and Kellie, Phil and Charlene, Mike and Claudia, Steve and Mary Kay, Dave, Pamela, Dawn and Jim, Stan, Ron and Anita, Will and Heidi, Tina, Melissa and Todd, Michelle and Michael, Deborah, Achilles and Caren, Jesus, Lane, Kelly and Lisa, Rose and Jace, Ricky and Brenda, Garny, Maddie, Carlos and Cathy, Mike and Cathy, Eric, Paulina and Peter, and Juan.

Julie and Nick Sarris donated 40 balls “in memory of Sienna’s eternal spirit.”

Tennis Hall of Famers Mike and Bob Bryan, who have also been hall-of-fame supporters of this endeavor every single year since its inception, served up an array of 50 balls.

My oldest granddaughter Maya McAuley, 7, with great deliberation picked out a green soccer ball while her sister Auden, 3, carefully chose to give an orange one. Meanwhile, my two-year-old granddaughter Amara Woodburn selected four basketballs on behalf of herself and her five-month-old brother Jayden.

And now – drumroll, please – the final gift tally for 2025, surpassing last year’s previous record by 147, is 1,491 brand new sports balls joyous young smiles!

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @

‘Friends’ Theme In 2025 Reading List

by Woody

Woody’s award-winning novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available at Amazon (click here), other online retailers, and orderable at all bookshops.

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To commemorate Emily Dickinson’s 195th birthday on December 10, after having visited her home in Amherst, Massachusetts, earlier this year, I recently read – and now recommend – “The Essential Emily Dickinson Poems: selected and with an introduction by Joyce Carol Oates.”

Fredrik Backman’s storytelling borders on poetry, and his newest novel “My Friends” is no exception. My friends is actually a minor theme running through my 2025 list of books read that, if I finish three more volumes, will reach my annual goal of 52. Below are the rest of my top recommendations…

To begin, three varied-but-terrific books written by author friends of mine: “Trigger Warning,” a heavyhearted and powerful novel of literary fiction that had me lingering over countless sentences and passages in order to savor Jacinda Townsend’s beautiful wordsmith skills; “When We Were Monsters,” a thriller/mystery taking place in an elite boarding school, by YA superstar Jennifer Niven; and “A Letter A Week During The School Year: Unplug. Reach Out. Discover the Power of the Handwritten Letter” – the title says it all! – by Julie Merrick.

By the way, “The Correspondent” by Virginia Evans, about a letter-writer over the course of her life, is a lovely novel I highly recommended to Julie – and now to you.

It is a rare year I do not read (or reread) something by Brian Doyle, my favorite under-known writer who feels like a friend because his essays are so personal. This year it was, for the first time, “Children and Other Wild Animals.”

Another lesser-know writer I enjoy greatly, and consistently, is Willy Vlautin. This year I could not put down two of his gritty novels, both featuring flawed and down-and-out characters one cannot help but root for: “Lean on Pete” and “The Night Always Comes.”

“The Names” by Florence Knapp has an intriguing premise, accomplished well, of three wildly divergent storylines for a baby boy (and his family) depending on three different names he is given at birth.

Two more page-turning novels, each featuring two separate timelines, are “Fun for the Whole Family” by Jennifer E. Smith and “Typewriter Beach” by Meg Waite Clayton.

From the nonfiction shelves, as someone who barely knows which end of a hammer to hold, I thoroughly enjoyed “Cabin: Off the Grid Adventures with a Clueless Craftsman” by Patrick Hutchinson; “Once Upon a Tome: The Misadventures of a Rare Bookseller” by Oliver Darkshire; and, despite having no musical talent myself, I was captivated by “A Romance on Three Legs: Glenn Gould’s Obsessive Quest for the Perfect Piano” by Katie Hafner – which pairs nicely with the fictional “The Instrumentalist” by Harriet Constable about a violin prodigy.

A handful of short novellas long on enjoyment and intrigue: “Cold Enough For Snow” (95 pages) by Jessica Au; “the all of it” (145 pages) by Jeannette Haien; and “Who Will Run The Frog Hospital” (148 pages) by Lorrie Moore that is as wonderfully peculiar as its title.

The shortest novella I read, “The English Understand Wool” by Helen DeWitt, at just 70 pages is my runner-up for favorite book of any length all year. It is an odd little gem, quirky and quiet, slow and funny, and impossible to summarize. While not for everyone, some will absolutely adore it.

And – drum roll, please – my co-favorite offerings from my 2025 reading list are children’s books: “Kid Scientists at the Beach” by my daughter, Dallas Woodburn; and by another of my friends, Drew Daywalt, “Freddie Two Pants” that makes my three granddaughters laugh their heads off every time I read it to them and my giggles always explode too!

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.

‘Holiday Ball Drive’ Is Kids’ Stuff

by Woody

Woody’s award-winning novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available at Amazon (click here), other online retailers, and orderable at all bookshops.

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Editorials are generally as disposable as the newsprint on which they are printed, and yet one that appeared in The New York Sun in 1897 might as well have been carved in granite because it remains relevant and favored well over a century later.

Headlined “Is There a Santa Claus?” it began with a letter from young Virginia O’Hanlon:

“Dear Editor –

“I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, ‘If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.’ Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?”

The Sun’s reply included the now famous line, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus,” and continued: “He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence.”

Indeed, how dreary would the world be with no Virginias – and, alas! no Sarahs, Davids and Briannas. Those are the names of just three kind-hearted kids who have emptied their jars of “Chore Money” and used their own birthday gift cards and redeemed a year of collected recyclables in past years to support “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive” that is now underway.

I have previously shared how a young boy shooting hoops on a blacktop court with a basketball autographed by Cedric Ceballos – not caring that he was ruining the signature because he finally had his very own ball – inspired this annual endeavor three decades ago.

And yet the seed was actually planted a few years earlier when I read the following from my sportswriting hero, Jim Murray, about his early days in hard news:

“I remember almost the first story I covered – a little girl got run over by a truck and lost her leg. The thought of her going through life that way made me shrink. It still does. She must be twenty-one years old now and I wonder how she has managed. I remember I had $8 left of my paycheck (which was only $38 to begin with in those days) and I bought her a whole armful of toys and brought them to the hospital and those silly nurses were embarrassed and told me I’d have to take them back, and I said, like hell I would, give them to that little girl or I’ll bring the power of the press (whatever that was) down on you.”

I suddenly wanted to emulate Mr. Murray not just as a writer, but as a person, so thereafter I started buying a whole armful of sports balls for kids’ charities each holiday season.

You, too, can emulate and honor the late Jim Murray by dropping off new balls at Sanbell (formerly Jensen Design & Survey) at 1672 Donlon St., Ventura CA 93003 (weekdays 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.) through Dec. 8 – or have online orders shipped to this same address – and I will see they reach the hands of deserving youth.

And please email me at woodywriter@gmail.com about your gift so I can add your generosity to this year’s tally and thank you by name in my December 19th column.

Together, we can prove The Sun’s long-ago words still ring true: Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and ball-giving MVPs – Most Valuable Philanthropists – exist.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.