Category Archives: Columns

Summertime Is Marbles Time

by Woody

This may be a surprise to some readers of this space, but I am not losing my marbles. To the contrary, I am gaining them.

For this I owe my great gratitude to a teacher who interrupted his discussion of Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” one spring afternoon and shared a personal story. A philosophy, really.

Mr. Hawkins explained he kept a large jar on his dresser and every time something wonderful happened in his life he would drop a marble inside. Smooth pebbles, shiny pennies or pieces of sea glass would also suffice, he noted. His goal was to fill the jar, and a few more, during his life. The marbles themselves weren’t the real treasure, however – the act of noticing each special moment was.

All these years later, I can quote only two lines by memory from that Shakespeare play – “Lord, what fools these mortals be!” and “Though she be but little, she is fierce” – but I have collected a rising mountain of marbles. In doing so, I have come to notice something: summertime is marble time.

As my wise teacher importantly emphasized, something need not be a monumental pinch-me event – hitting a home run, stealing a first kiss, earning a diploma, winning the Pulitzer Prize – to be deserving of a marble. In fact, oftentimes the simple pleasures are quite worthy.

Simple summer pleasures such as…

Gazing at the stars that always seem brighter on a warm midsummer’s night.

A sweet summer romance.

Catching fireflies, catching frogs, catching “running” grunion in the midnight moonlight.

Running in the sprinklers, running your first marathon or fastest 5K, running after the ice cream truck.

Enjoying a Popsicle or ice cream cone that tastes better, and colder on your tongue, on a hot summer afternoon.

Sleeping in a tent, be it in the backyard for a slumber party or on a camping trip.

Visiting any National Park – or ballpark, Major League or Little League.

Hiking to the top of Yosemite Falls or along the trails in Ventura’s Harmon Canyon.

Climbing Mount Whitney or climbing a tree more lovely than a poem.

Writing a poem about a marble moment.

Skinny dipping in a pond for the first time – or most recent time.

Wine tasting, pub crawling, beach walking.

Spending an afternoon wading in the tide pools, collecting seashells, building a sandcastle.

Visiting one of the Channel Islands.

Watching – really watching – a Pacific sunset more beautiful than anything on display in the Louvre.

Going fishing, even if you bring home nothing more than a sunburn and a smile and a tall tale about the one that got away.

Teaching your son or daughter to ride a two-wheeler – doesn’t this ALWAYS happen during the summertime?

Daydreaming while gazing off the Ventura Pier.

Spending a week at your grandparents’ home and hearing stories about what your dad (or mom) was like as a young boy (or girl).

Flying a kite with your grandchild.

Attending your high school reunion or revisiting old memories with a college friend.

A backyard barbecue with friends is always better in the summertime.

Playing outside until one of your parents hollers, for the third time, for you to come inside for the night.

An evening walk hand-in-hand with your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/child – or hand-in-leash with your dog.

Riding a merry-go-round or Ferris wheel at the fair with your child/girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse.

Watching Fourth of July fireworks.

A picnic with your favorite person in the world.

Be you 6 or 96, don’t be a mortal fool: make a point this summer to recognize – and savor – as many new marble moments as possible.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Christmas in the Summertime

by Woody

The elementary schoolchildren stepped off the yellow bus, weary after another long day in the classroom and wearier from a school year that still had two more days remaining before summer break, and suddenly their faces lit up with Christmas-morning smiles.

I wish you could have seen them.

Some of the kids even sang out with the glee of carolers and I wish you could have heard them as well.

The reason for the excitement was because a handful of volunteers greeted them at their bus stop bearing surprise gifts to celebrate the beginning of summer vacation. “Burgers & Balls” is what Mary Anne Rooney and Mike Barber called the special event they organized, although truth be told the children were actually all given Subway sandwiches not hamburgers.

The boxed meals were welcomed treats because these schoolchildren come from low-income families. More specifically, they live in Nyeland Acres, a community of about 2,800 residents just outside Oxnard. Most specifically, they live near the giant Santa Claus visible from the 101 Freeway. Rising 20 feet high from the belt buckle up on a brick base designed to look like the top of a chimney, the iconic 10,000-pound statue is believed to be the world’s largest Santa.

Built in 1947 and originally located near Carpinteria, Barber famously rescued and moved Santa to Nyeland Acres in 2003. A former ironworker by trade, Barber repaired and refurbished Santa to its former glory and then some. Moreover, each December for the past 15 years he has helped stage the Santa-to-the-Sea Half-Marathon where entrants donate toys that are given to the neighborhood children.

That’s not the half of it. Mike and Mary Anne work tirelessly year-round with The Nyeland Promise to provide local residents with an array of support, resources and advocacy programs ranging from free medical clinics and health education to food pantries and safe drinking water to connecting every home with free internet and providing funding for every resident to attend the first two years at Oxnard College.

And, most recently, 200 schoolchildren received a burger (disguised as turkey and ham sandwiches) plus a soccer ball, basketball or football.

The Nyeland Promise actually had an assist passing out the sports balls – from generous Star readers. Because so many of you donated to my annual “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive” after the deadline, too late to be delivered to deserving children last Christmas, those bonus balls instead found happy hands a little belatedly.

As I said, I wish you could have been there at the giveaway. Bus after bus, kids descended the stairs with heavy strides that soon grew bouncy. Their colorful backpacks – gifts from The Nyeland Promise ten months ago and filled with school supplies – also seemed to become lighter on their shoulders as they excitedly lined up like youngsters waiting to sit on a mall Santa’s lap.

One young boy wore a “SK8 the Infinity” T-shirt and two sisters wore matching sparkly shirts proclaiming “Life Is Beautiful” and every kid wore a beautiful infinity-wide smile.

One of the volunteers was especially memorable as well. Emily, a high school junior, is an example of The Nyeland Promise helping youth achieve considerable promise. Personable and bright, Emily boasts a 4.5 grade point average and dreams of becoming a pediatrician. Spend even a few minutes with her and you will walk away convinced that a stethoscope is in her future.

In a happy coincidence, one of the bus stops was barely a football pass away from Santa, who at this time of year is adorned with giant sunglasses. Christmas in summertime, indeed.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

E-ticket Ride of Happiness

by Woody

With apologies to Disneyland, it seems to me “The Happiest Place on Earth” is a wedding. Any wedding and every wedding, extravagant or simple, grand or intimately small. Attending a wedding always puts helium in your heart.

And so it was two Sundays past that my spirits soared skyward on a cloudless blue spring day that felt like summer when my princely son married the princess of his dreams in the wedding of her childhood imagination. If any detail was overlooked, any expense spared, I cannot imagine what it was. No white doves were released, I suppose, nor did the couple depart in a hot-air balloon.

The happy newlyweds, Jess and Greg!

Posh as it was, what made the occasion truly special was what also makes a shoestring wedding equally special – the gathering of people. Indeed, as I stood as a groomsman beside my daughter, the Best Matron, who stood next to her kid brother as he and his bride exchanged personally written vows, all with the Pacific Ocean as a breathtaking backdrop behind us, I looked out at the sea of moist-eyed faces and was inspired to add this opening to my prepared dinner toast:

“Jess and Greg, it has been a whirlwind day for you both, so I want to ask you to pause and take a deep breath and take moment to look around at all these faces gathered here. Really take them in. They aren’t just faces, they are your favorite people.

“Some of us have known you since the days you were born. Others came into your lives a little later; some later still; some much more recently. Some came here today from near; many from further away; and more than a few traveled great distances. But we are all present for the same reason – because of how amazingly special you both are.

“Look around, we’ll wait…

“Okay, now I ask the rest of us to all look at Jess and Greg and take a moment to silently recall one of your favorite memories of them. Maybe it was the first time you met them or perhaps it was last night’s wonderful Ghanaian Engagement Ceremony.

“As you fondly reflect back, know this – these two people that we all hold so dear are amazingly special thanks to each and every one of you.”

This wedding-day thought, it strikes me now, applies to all of us. We, too, are the product of our favorite people – and they of us. Alas, too often it takes a wedding, graduation, or other special occasion blessed with a vast constellation of our star supporters as rare as the planets aligning to appreciate the roles they have played in our lives. Wise it would be to occasionally keep this in mind on the small days between The Big Days.

Continuing my toast, and this theme, I next shared that at Mark Twain’s home in Hartford, Connecticut, the great writer had a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson engraved in brass and prominently displayed above the main fireplace: The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it.

“I love this sentiment and think it extends beyond the walls of a house,” I explained. “After all, as the late, great poet Maya Angelou said: When you leave home, you take home with you.

“It seems to me that having the treasured friends and family who ornament the lives of Jess and Greg here today makes this beautiful site their ‘home’ away from home and makes their wedding day a true masterpiece day.”

In nostalgic Disneyland parlance, it was truly an E-ticket ride of day.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

 

Engaging GOAT Tale of Two Goats

by Woody

The acronym GOAT is greatly overworked, for to declare someone – or something – the Greatest Of All Time is a fool’s errand. One person says Mozart is the GOAT while three more argue for Beethoven, Bach and Stravinsky.

Rembrandt, Jordan, the Beatles are countered by Van Gogh, LeBron, the Rolling Stones; or Picasso, Magic, Grateful Dead; and so on.

The lovebirds Jess and Greg

To be sure, “greatest” depends on the eye – or ear – of the beholder. Far better, it seems to me, to have a Rainbow of Greatness and dish out colors. For example, Prince may get a shade of rock-and-roll purple and Steinbeck gets a hue of literary blue and Jesse Owens a glint of Olympic gold.

Which brings me to last weekend’s Ghanaian Engagement Ceremony for my son and his fiancé. Delayed two years by the pandemic, and thus held belatedly the day before the wedding, it was well worth the wait.

Imagine a New Year’s Eve party combined with Shakespeare in the Park, mix in two family reunions, attire everyone in dresses and shirts that look like they were hand-painted by a Disney animator using colors infused with sunshine, and you get a small idea of the big fun.

Oh yes, and don’t forget a bride and groom-to-be as beautiful and handsome as any storybook princess and prince. She wore a stunning lace dress, white as a cloud, the hemline and single sleeve widely bordered with a woven pattern of orange accented with red, green and blue. Her tekua, a crown-like headdress, echoed the bright palette. He complemented her in a long white shirt, its breastplate matching her tekua, white pants, and colorful pillbox kufi cap.

In honor of the princess’s Ghanaian roots, where her mother and father were wed, a spokesman asked for her hand on behalf of the prince. Bargaining, all performed aloud, ensued. Eventually, three representatives of the prince carried in four large woven baskets filled with jewelry and linens, perfumes and soaps, drinks and foods.

Had the ceremony been truly authentic, the offered dowry would have been declined for it lacked one important item: many years earlier, the princess’s mother’s family had received a goat in exchange for their blessings. Alas, that was in Ghana and this was in Santa Monica, and the mother dared not dream to request a goat.

The princess’s family deliberated playfully in open view even though all in attendance knew the generous dowry would in the end be accepted.

Taking no chances, for the prince loves the princess so deeply and dearly that he wished to impress her family beyond all doubt, a nod was given and into the courtyard walked two of the prince’s friends…

…each with a leashed goat in tow.

The jaw of the mother of the princess fell agape in joyous surprise and disbelief.

The two goats – royalty of sorts themselves, having appeared on The Tonight Show With Jimmy Fallon and Saturday Night Live, and been guests at numerous Hollywood parties – departed before dinner was served. This was a good thing because the feast included kebobs of chicken, vegetables and, um, shall we say, meat not from a cow.

Libations and stories flowed; dancing continued long after the stars came out overhead; and the princess’s mother told me many times over, in a sing-song accent as sweet as any bottled fragrance in a dowry basket: “Ohhhh, I still can’t believe it. Your son got me good. Two goats – not one, two!”

Indeed, if it wasn’t the GOAT of engagement ceremonies, certainly it merits a brilliant orange to match the prince and princess’s decorative outfits.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Sunshine Amidst A Rainy Morning

by Woody

Some people get caught in a light drizzle and curse their lack of an umbrella.

Others skip in the rain and dance playfully in the puddles.

And then there are those special individuals who, even in the darkest of storms, create rainbows for others wherever they go. My friend Nick is just such a rare human sunbeam. Let me share one shining example.

On a rainy winter morning, Nick ventured down his driveway to retrieve the newspaper and spotted a quite elderly gentleman doing likewise a handful of houses away. The neighbor, however, was using a reach-grabber tool so he wouldn’t have to – or, perhaps, couldn’t – bend down to pick it up.

Furthermore, the man was accompanied by his wife who was holding him seemingly so he wouldn’t fall. In truth, the wife appeared to equally need her husband’s support to keep from toppling.

Indeed, the couple’s driveway was literally a wet and slippery slope waiting for an accident – perhaps a broken hip or arm – to happen.

“I was worried one or both of them would fall and get hurt, maybe seriously,” Nick thought with serious concern. His next impulse was to help this couple he had never met, but quickly a third consideration embraced him: “I didn’t want to bruise their dignity if I walked down the street to help them.”

Nick slept on the matter and the following morning rose a little earlier than usual. Again it was raining, so he walked down the street and stealthily deposited the three newspapers the elderly couple subscribe to on their welcome mat along with an anonymous note that read: “Your paperboy wanted to make your morning a little easier and brighter.”

Thus began a new morning ritual for Nick that brings to my mind Sparky Anderson, the late Hall of Fame baseball manager, who coincidentally lived not far from Nick’s Thousand Oaks neighborhood. Each week on trash day, during his afternoon walk, Sparky would move his neighbors’ barrels from the curb up their driveways. Asked what motivated him to do so, he replied simply: “Woody, it don’t cost nothing at all to be nice.”

Curious about the identity of their nice Samaritan “paperboy,” the elderly couple asked around and eventually phoned Nick to thank him and a new friendship was born.

In sunshine as well as rain, day after week after month, Nick continued his new one-home paper route. And then the mishap he had feared for the elderly couple happened to him – not a fall and injury, but rather COVID-19.

Before going to the hospital with a dangerously low oxygen level, Nick had the presence of mind and heart to find a substitute paperboy. For the two weeks Nick was a patient, and a good while longer while he recuperated at home, a 13-year-old neighborhood boy dutifully delivered the early morning kindness.

When Nick was finally fit to resume his paper route an unexpected problem reared its head – its teenage head.

“He wouldn’t give it back,” Nick says with a laugh. “He told me it started his day with a sense of purpose and responsibility and a good feeling in his heart.”

And so it was that the teen boy continued the daily Sparky-like act of niceness until the couple recently moved away to be closer to their grandchildren.

Here’s hoping that another human sunbeam in the couple’s new neighborhood sees them with a reach-grabber tool and is inspired to escort their newspapers up to their welcome mat. As Ernest Hemingway wrote in the “The Sun Also Rises”, “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”

 *   *   *

Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

“Tigers” Keep Rampaging Unfettered

by Woody

A tiger crept into an elementary school earlier this week, with summer vacation two days away, and fatally mauled 19 precious children and two heroic teachers.

It was not the worst such attack of schoolchildren in the Land of Freedom, if morgue-cold numbers are the criteria, for 10 years earlier a single man-eating tiger savagely killed 20 first-grade students in their classroom along with six adults.

Nor was it a rare tiger attack. Just two weeks ago a tiger killed 10 shoppers at a supermarket and over the past decade there have been more heinous, horrific, heartbreaking mass maulings by tigers than can be imagined.

Once again, again and again, words cannot describe the heartbreak…

This year, not yet Memorial Day, there have already been more than 200 mass maulings by tigers. Moreover, in 2020, the most recent year for which full data is available, 45,222 people in the Land of Freedom died from tiger injuries – half of them killed by their very own tiger.

“Thoughts and prayers,” half of the lawmakers offer after each mass mauling.

“Let’s pass some common-sense laws about tigers,” the other half pleads. “Like having all tiger owners undergo background checks to make sure they are fit to own a deadly beast. And why do civilians need mutant 15-headed man-eating tigers with claws that can pierce metal that were bred by the military for war?”

“No, no, no,” the first lawmakers demand, their stubborn faces turning blood red. “Owning a cat, even mutant tigers, is an inalienable right written on The Original Parchment and its Second Rule of All Rules is holy as if it were etched on Moses’ tablets of stone. Any law that limits tigers in any way is a slippery slope that will lead to the extermination of all tigers.”

“Stuff and nonsense!” the counterpart lawmakers cry out until they are blue in the face. “There are 400 million tigers in our Land of Freedom, more than one beast for each of our 300 million citizens. Rounding up all those tigers would be more impossible than ridding our land of alcohol, and surely you remember how that worked out. You still have your wine and whiskey, don’t you? And a bottle of Jack Daniels never killed 20 schoolchildren in the blink of an eye.”

“Tigers don’t kill people either – tiger owners do,” sneer the red-faced do-nothing lawmakers who line their pockets with gold from tiger breeders who themselves get filthy rich from selling as many striped man-eaters as possible.

“You love tigers more than you love people,” the blue-faced try-something lawmakers accuse.

“It’s the price of freedom,” insist the red-faced lawmakers. “More laws aren’t the answer. Cages won’t save lives. More tigers, not fewer, that’s the answer. Ban books, not tigers. The only thing that can stop a bad tiger is a good tiger. Thoughts and prayers, that’s all we can do.”

And so the arguments go, round and round like a spinning record album with the stylus stuck in one groove, the red-faced lawmakers thwarting all efforts by the blue-faced lawmakers even though the majority of tiger owners and non-owners alike want restrictions to slow the carnage.

Meanwhile the rest of the world’s lands, despite having mental illnesses and violent video games, suffer a tiny fraction of killings by tigers compared to the Land of Freedom. They roll their eyes with pity because they see what the Land of Freedom is blind to:

Owning tigers in unlimited numbers, including mutant multi-headed military-style man-eaters and deadly ghost tigers, does not keep people safe and free. In truth, in the Land of Freedom the people no longer own the tigers – the tigers own them.

 *   *   *

Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

A Wonderful Bird Is The Pelican

by Woody

A wonderful bird is the pelican.

So begins a poem you may be familiar with from your primary school days. Written by Dixon Lanier Merritt, rarely has a line of verse rung truer. Indeed, awed by its magnificent wingspan and graceful flight and fishing skill, the ancient Egyptians worshiped the wonderful pelican as a god.

Sailors, meanwhile, have long embraced pelicans as a spirit animal that will brave fierce storms and rough seas to save them from drowning.

Pelicans certainly are breathtaking to watch, one moment floating high above the ocean then suddenly diving almost vertically, like a kamikaze aircraft at stunning velocity, and folding their wings up tight an instant before plunging into the water to catch a meal.

I bring up these wonderful birds today because my wife recently saw a California brown pelican float down from the sky and land a 3-point shot away from her on the wooden deck of an Airnb beach house at Faria Beach. This was the day leading into the night of the blood moon lunar eclipse and my much-better-half says seeing the pelican so up-close was as thrilling as the distant astronomical sighting.

The pelican encounter was all the more special because Lisa was enjoying another encounter that in recent years has seemed nearly as rare as a lunar eclipse: her childhood nuclear family was together, just the “Original Six” as they dubbed themselves – 90-year-old parents, three daughters, one son – for four days at the beach without spouses and children.

With one bed too few, one sibling had to sleep on an air mattress. With only one bathroom, the quarters seemed as crowded as the wood-panel station wagon they all used to pile into for family trips back when the siblings were ages 5-and-up instead AARP-and-up.

And without question, it was perfectly wonderful.

For a long weekend, 2022 became 1972. Board games sent phone screens directly to Jail without passing Go. Serene walks on the beach replaced hectic commutes to work. Laughter echoed in rhythm with the crashing waves.

The arrival of the pelican was perfectly apropos. After all, this wonderful bird’s ability to glide over the water’s surface in seemingly slow motion while scanning patiently for prey is said to symbolize the importance of slowing down in our own lives.

Additionally, in many cultures when a pelican swoops into view it is believed to represent the gift of spending time with family. Some people furthermore see its trademark oversized throat pouch as symbolizing an abundance of love. Enhancing these motifs, parent pelicans will prick open a wound in their chests to provide chicks with their own blood’s nourishment when starvation threatens.

The above interpretations are how I wish to see the pelican with the Original Six. Sadly, however, less sunny symbolism rolled in like heavy fog. You see, the breathtaking bird’s surprise visitation ended in heartbreak. After resting on the wooden deck through sunset, it curled up off in a corner through the night and come morning only its spirit had flown away.

But I choose to focus on the lively excitement of the pelican’s arrival, not its deathly departure. I choose to focus on not when – or if – the stars will align again for a reunion of the Original Six again, but rather on the laughs they just enjoyed. Here is one more laugh, courtesy of Mr. Merritt:

“A wonderful bird is a pelican, / His bill will hold more than his belican.

“He can take in his beak / Food enough for a week;

“But I’m darned if I see how the helican.”

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Pier Bench Is My New Favorite

by Woody

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 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 ugly. 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 nearly 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.

I now 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 also 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 bears a compass rose. The latter is truly fitting because Larry was a human North Star for countless people before brain cancer claimed his precious life two years ago come tomorrow – May 14, 2020 – at age 60.

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 on the pier.

And, of course, I watch the surfers. I watch them sitting astraddle their boards, rising and dipping as if sitting on an aquatic merry-go-round, and 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 pile of pencils offered in homage by visitors at 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’s pretty to hope so.

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

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Fishermen Catch My Attention

by Woody

As the sun went down and the tide came up, a lone fisherman stood atop the tallest lava rock where earlier in the day there had been an exposed tidal pool.

Now the waves washed over his ankles, salty mist splashed his face, and even from behind you just knew he was smiling. Watching this scene from a third-floor beachside balcony overlooking Lyman’s Bay in Kona on The Big Island of Hawai’i gave me a smile as well.

After a while, I noticed that his long fishing rod was like a giant metronome moving in a 1-to-4 rhythm with the sea – a new cast going out with every fourth wave that washed in.

At Pu’uhonua o Honaunau and Royal Grounds National Historic Park in South Kona … before seeing the lone fisherman in the bay.

Watching someone else fish is sometimes as much fun as fishing and so for half an hour I spectated, but nary a fish did the fisherman reel in. I imagine he did not care; that catching wasn’t the main point anyway; that just being out there in the fresh sea air was medicine for his soul.

And then something happened that was even better medicine…

…a fisherboy, about age eight or so, came and joined the fisherman on the lava rock, ankle-deep in waves, side-by-side in smiles, casting out with his own pole. It was a Norman Rockwell painting brought to life.

The next day, while visiting the Pu’uhonua o Honaunau and Royal Grounds National Historic Park in South Kona, another angler caught my attention.

The most impressive artifact on the 180-acre grounds, once believed to possess spiritual powers, is “The Great Wall” built more than 400 years ago. Measuring 12 feet high and nearly two feet thick, its workmanship is remarkable. Even without mortar, the lava stones remain perfectly in place with the wall sides rising flat and true and its top edges as square as a brownie pan.

Running 950 feet long in an L shape, The Great Wall divides the Pu’uhonua – meaning “Place of Refuge” – from the rest of the grounds. Lawbreakers, even ones sentenced to death, who managed to flee by foot or swim along the coast to the Place of Refuge would be absolved of their crimes by a priest. Most fugitives did not make it, however, for the distances could be great, the currents strong, the waves angry as they crashed on a beach made treacherous with lava stones sharp as razors.

It was in these waters, on the north edge of the Royal Grounds, that The Great Wall was overshadowed by a small fishing skiff. With a single motor at the stern and a weathered one-person cabin at the bow, it bounced up and down on rough water while chugging towards the shelter of the bay.

I find watching someone performing excellence in most anything to be a thrill, and this lone fisherman thrilled me now. Reaching the shallows near shore, he hopped out into waist-deep water, waded up a cement loading ramp, and jogged away.

In a flash, he was back – backing a pickup truck and boat trailer down the long, narrow ramp with surprising speed. Indeed, with little margin for error and without pause, he guided the trailer into the water and halfway under the skiff. It was poetry in motion. Like watching someone parallel park into a space that seems much too tight.

Wading waist deep again, the solitaire fisherman pushed the skiff fully onto the trailer and secured it before climbing into his truck and driving off. In all, arrival to departure, perhaps six minutes passed.

I don’t know if the fish were biting, but I’m guessing he caught the limit.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

A Waterfall Seen, A Fall Averted

by Woody

“When in Rome…” when one is in Hawai’i means attending a luau.

The hour drive north from Kona along the coast was spectacular and the traditional feast at the famous Mauna Kea Beach Hotel did not disappoint either.

A whole pig – slow-roasted for most of the day after being stuffed with steaming lava stones, then wrapped in wet banana leaves and buried over koa wood embers in a sandpit – took center stage on a buffet table fit for a king.

After dinner, on a raised outdoor stage, a history lesson of the island’s royalty was performed. This included reenacted battles and courtships, warriors blowing thunderous notes on conch shells, and hula dancers turning their hips into rhythmic earthquakes. It was a Broadway Show under the stars.

A luau sunset at the Mauna Kea Beach Hotel.

And yet the highlight of the evening was neither music nor dance, food nor mai tai, but rather the ocean backdrop as the sun melted into the horizon with the lava beach so near one could hear the crashing waves.

Describing the sea’s deep shades of blue and bluer, and the warm oranges and golds of the finger-painted kaleidoscope-colored sky with scattered clouds slowly turning to streaks of flame, is like trying to describe Monet’s “San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk.” Words fail greatly.

The sunset was all the more personally special because this hotel, these grounds, this paradisial ocean view was perhaps my mom’s favorite place on earth. She vacationed here many, many times, including not long before she died 30 years ago. It is hard to believe today, April 29, would have been her 90th birthday.

As you can imagine, as I gazed at the sundown scene the salty ocean mist was not the only thing moistening my cheeks.Akaka Falls

“When in Rome…” also meant visiting Akaka Falls State Park near Hilo. At 442 feet Akaka Falls falls far shy of Yosemite Falls’ 2,425 feet, and yet its breathtaking-ness measures up fully for it is tucked inside a lush rainforest filled with wild orchids, draping ferns, towering bamboo, all with a soundtrack featuring a symphony of songbirds.

The short hike to the lookout point view of the Falls is undemanding with a paved path and stairs, and yet this site provided a challenge for some – and provided an additional memorable sight for me. Two men were struggling to carry a wheelchair with a pre-teen boy in it down a section of steps when a stranger heading the opposite way, having seen the Falls already, reversed course and paused to help them…

…and then patiently waited to assist them on their return trip up the path.

That kindness on the Akaka Falls stairs brought me full circle to the luau. Leaving the grounds, an elderly gentleman was ascending a long outdoor cement stairway and path when a woman behind him touched his shoulder to tell him his shoe was untied. It was a trip, fall and broken bone waiting to happen.

The man waved her away, not rudely but not politely either, and proceeded on. Her worry rising with each of his next few steps, the lady Samaritan pardoned him again and offered to retie his shoe for him. This time he smiled and accepted her help.

I smiled, too, for this woman’s kindness reminded me of my mom who did a similar thing once at the Mauna Kea. Sharing a dinner table with a very elderly couple, and seeing the husband stranger struggle with his knife, my mom cut his steak into bite sizes as nonchalantly as a mother helpfully retying a young child’s undone shoelace.

To be continued…

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com