Category Archives: Columns

Column: Grads and Artisans

by Woody

New Grads Can Learn From Artisans

 

Graduation season is upon us and, since once again I was not asked to deliver a commencement address in person, I am offering one here in print.

 

Among those who will fling their mortarboards skyward in celebration this year is my youngest nephew from Camarillo High School. And so I will address my remarks to him personally with hope others may find wisdom and inspiration as well.1-quoteKnow

 

Congratulations, Rhett. Before continuing on your educational expedition and life journey, I want to tell you about the banana knife your cousin brought home from Sri Lanka last year as a gift for me.

 

            The curved eight-inch blade is not burnished smooth except for its sharp edge, yet it is still beautiful for its utility – it can cut a banana bunch from a tree, chop down bamboo stalks, slice open a letter with equal ease. In today’s world, having a wide range of skills will serve you well.

 

            Conversely, its lacquered native hardwood handle is art to behold – and hold. Adding to the sublimity is that your cousin watched the master blacksmith fashion this handiwork in an hour’s time.

 

He also saw craftswomen weave strands of colorfully dyed palm leaves into wondrous purses of varying patterns. Meanwhile, from earthen clay other artists created pots and bowls that are equally useful and attractive.

 

            These Sri Lankan artisans, it seems to me, serve as an instructive metaphor. Each day we all receive 24 hours like a new chunk of raw clay or a pile of palm fronds or a piece of metal. Our challenge and duty is to use our vision, talents and perseverance to create something meaningful.

 

           

Greg Woodburn gave new socks and running shoes as gifts to Sikoro villagers, including the Elder Chief here.

Greg Woodburn gave new socks and running shoes as gifts to Sikoro villagers, including the Elder Chief here.

Too, Rhett, I wish to share a story from a trip your cousin took a few years earlier to the tiny village of Sikoro in Mali, Africa. Because his luggage was lost, and because he had neglected to pack anything in his carry-on bag for just such a mishap, he spent two weeks with only the clothes on his back.

 

Yet instead of calamitous, the lost luggage actually proved to be serendipitous because he got a life lesson in experiencing how his impoverished hosts make do with very few possessions.

 

The people of Sikoro live in mud-brick huts, sleep on woven mats atop hard dirt floors and pump water from wells. They lack enough fruits and vegetables. Most do not have shoes.

 

Despite what to us seems a hardscrabble existence, they are extremely happy. They smile constantly, laugh easily, dance freely. Worries about car payments and job promotions do not weigh on their minds. They may not have much materially by our standards, but by theirs they have enough.

 

Rhett, you would do well to pack some of these values of the Sikoro villagers in your luggage, so to speak, as you travel life’s roads.

 

Speaking of packing, Rhett, I wish to close with a scene from the book “Repacking Our Bags” by Richard Leider. He was on a backpacking trek in Africa and the group’s Maasai guide, Koyie, traveled with only a spear and a stick for cattle-tending. Leider, on the other hand, was outfitted with a backpack stuffed with “necessities.”

 

After they made camp the first evening, Leider laid out all his fancy gear. He writes: “I unsnap snaps, unzip zippers, and un-Velcro Velcro. From pockets, pouches, and compartments, I produce all sorts of strange and wonderful items. Eating utensils, cutting devices, digging tools. Direction finders, star gazers, map readers. Things to write with, on, and for. Various garments in various sizes for various functions. Medical supplies, remedies, and cures. Little bottles inside little bottles inside little bottles. Waterproof bags for everything. Amazing stuff!

 

“I look over at Koyie to gauge his reaction,” Leider continues. “He seems amused but he is silent. Finally, after several minutes of just gazing at everything, Koyie turns to me and asks very simply, but with great intensity: ‘Does all this make you happy?’ ”

 

Pursue happiness, Rhett, but pursue it wisely. As Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard has sagely said: “The more you know, the less you need.”

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

 

 

Column: Philanthropist On The Run

by Woody

Young Philanthropist on the Run

 

As a small boy, Benjamin DeWitt remembers waiting in food lines.

 

“I came from a very poor family,” Ben, now 28, recalls. “My parents worked very, very hard, but we still didn’t have much.”

 

When you are a child without, there are two ways to go when you grow up: follow the same hardscrabble pathway or pursue a yellow brick road.

Ben DeWitt, a true role model

Ben DeWitt, a true role model

 

Ben opted for a third road less traveled by. An avenue of philanthropy.

 

“I want to give other kids an opportunity for a better life than I had,” Ben avows. It is not lip service. He doesn’t just walk the talk, he runs it.

 

A standout distance runner at Buena High School (Class of 2004), Ventura College (2005-06) and Western State Colorado University (Class of 2008), Ben started his own business – Fast Green Running – four years ago to stage local races, including the“Mountains 2 Beach Marathon” from Ojai to Ventura.

 

The officially sanctioned course is remarkable for its scenic beauty and more remarkable for its gradual 700-foot decent to a sea-level finish near the Ventura Pier that has earned it the No. 2 ranking for runners trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon. As a result, runners from 44 states and seven countries are entered in this year’s fourth annual edition on May 25.

 

But the most remarkable thing about the “Mountains 2 Beach Marathon” (and accompanying 5K and half-marathon) is this: Ben donated $10,000 to local schools the first year; $15,000 the second year; and $38,000 last year, including $20,000 to Ventura Education Partnership.

 

“Ben is a source of pride for VUSD,” praises Trudy Arriaga, Superintendent for the Ventura Unified School District. “He is a product of VUSD and has the qualities that we dream to help produce as educators. Ben models service, generosity and wellness. Ben’s extraordinary example of giving back by paying it forward is an inspiration wrapped up in quite a gift!”

 

Ben’s gifts also benefit youth cross country and track programs throughout Ventura County as well as, fittingly, Ventura Food Share. His goal this year is to donate at least $45,000 total.

 

Understand, Ben is under no obligation to give from Fast Green Running’s bottom line. He could rightly pay himself a bigger salary instead of “paying it forward” from his own pocket.

 

“I’m more philanthropic with my life,” Ben explains. “I want to benefit the local community more than benefitting my personal piggybank.

 

“I live very modestly,” he expands, a ready smile flashing through his short-cropped ginger beard like sunshine through parting clouds. “I don’t need much to live. I’m not interested in vast amounts of wealth. I want to leave a legacy. On my deathbed, I want to look back on my life and feel that I did something worthwhile.”

 

Ben points out that some of his rewards cannot be monetized anyway, such as having runners tearfully thank him after realizing their dreams of clocking a Boston Marathon Qualifying time.

 

“I’d love for our community to come out on race day and be a part of the experience, kind of like they do in Boston,” encourages Ben, who was married on April 26 but has delayed his honeymoon until after the race. “Come cheer for the runners and perhaps you and your kids will be motivated to start running and getting more active too.”

 

Asked where his philanthropic calling originated, Ben shares a story when he was 16 and helping deliver toys and food in Santa Paula on Christmas Eve.

 

“We started at 4 a.m. and it was a cold, cold day,” he says. “I was in the bed of a truck and we’d stop at the houses and hand out boxes to parents. At one house on a dirt lot I remember thinking, ‘If I ever can someday, I want to help people.’ ”

 

He has made someday arrive early.

 

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

 

Sounds exactly like “Benefactor Ben.”

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

 

 

Column: Thanks for Moms

by Woody

Hallmark-Worthy Thoughts for Moms

 

“God could not be everywhere,” Rudyard Kipling observed, “and therefore He made mothers.” In a similar Hallmark card sentiment, Abraham Lincoln noted: “All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.”

 

1heartMomIn anticipation of Mother’s Day I asked some friends from everywhere to share the greatest gift from their own angels. Here are a few…

 

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“The best thing my mother ever gave me was a passion for fun,” says Patty Hengel. “Housework can wait, the world was meant to be seen and life lived, not spent in the house looking out.”

 

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“The best gift my mom ever gave me was the life-lesson to work hard for everything that you strive to do,” says Luis Monge.

 

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“My mom passed away at 46 from a rare type of cancer,” shares Mark Jasper. “But there was one time I remember about being honest that sticks out in my head. She went into a store to buy something and came out to the car and realized the cashier had given her too much money back so she went in and returned it. We didn’t have much money growing up so I knew my mom needed the money, but being honest was more important to her.”

 

Mark added this timely bookend: “A week ago I went to the store with my 12-year-old daughter. I gave her some money to run in and get me something and when she came out to the car I realized the cashier had given her back 10 dollars too much.

 

“So I took my daughter with me into the store to find the cashier that overpaid her and gave the money back. I hope she remembers this incident and can teach this to her kids someday as I remember my mom teaching me 25 years ago.”

 

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“An opportunity to live,” says John Collet. “I was adopted. My mother offered a selfless eternal love.”

 

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“My mom gave me the heart of a teacher,” says Marcella Williams. “She started her own college career when I was three. I was there for every graduation, the first from Moorpark College and the last from the University of San Diego when she earned her doctorate. I learned from her to dream big and try hard in front of everyone.”

 

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“Mom taught me independence,” says Linda Fox. “It was a gift by example. She was a single mom and raised me by herself.”

 

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“My mom and I share the same birthday and growing up we clashed all the time,” shares Elizabeth Marie. “It wasn’t until after I got married and had my own kids that I realized what a strong woman she was.”

 

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“From watching my mom, and the physical pain she deals with every moment from a deteriorated spine, I think I’d have to say the best lesson and gift I’ve learned from her is to never stop, never give up,” says Lauren Estilow. “Life may not always be easy, but enjoy whatever you have and whomever you’re with!”

 

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“The best gift Mom gave me was a strong work ethic regarding my education,” says Ethan Lubin. “College was a given and I am now an elementary school teacher.”

 

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            “My sister,” answered Kathy McAlpine. “Pat is the most amazing woman I know. She is giving and selfless beyond belief!”

 

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“Mom gave me many gifts, including a love of family, which supersedes all,” shares Scott Harris, whose mother passed away two weeks ago. “However, that is probably a common trait of all great mothers.

 

“So I’ll offer another gift – a love of reading. Even when we had no money, Mom would buy me books. That gift is still giving 50-plus years later and I’ve yet to read a book without thinking of my mom.”

 

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            As for me, I echo all of the above but maybe I’ll go with this gift from my late great mom: Don’t save the good china only for special occasions – every day is special.

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

 

 

Column: A Friend’s Advice

by Woody

Friendly Advice Yields Golden Memory

 

“When the student is ready,” a Buddhist proverb states, “the teacher will appear.”

            Or, as I happily experienced the other day, sometimes the wise friend appears.

            In this case, he showed up at happy hour. While the chips, salsa, guacamole and micro-brew were enjoyable, most appetizing of all – as usual with Scott – was the conversation. Scott belongs on a mountain peak, sitting cross-legged.

My wise friend and Renaissance man, Scott.

My wise friend and Renaissance man, Scott.

My friend is Renaissance man. He runs his own highly successful business yet favors flip-flops to wingtips. His interests include literature (he reads more than 100 books a year) and music (plays a killer harmonica) and travel (he is well on the way towards his goal of visiting every national park).

            But what I most admire about Scott is he is a role model of a family man. Happily married for three decades he has helped raise two amazing children. Importantly, Scott remains as close to his adult son and daughter now as when they were learning to ride two-wheelers.

            Our conversation turning to fatherhood, I asked Scott to share his magic formula. His parenting mission statement: “I made my kids my priority and always made time for them.”

            My remarkable friend then remarkably noted, matter-of-factly without a trace of conceit, that he only missed one of his daughter’s equestrian events when she was a national-class youth competitor and of more than 1,000 baseball games his son played in was absent from a mere two. That’s a hall-of-fame batting average.

            I felt a kinship for although my son did not run in 1,000 meets, from youth track and cross-country through four years of college competition I similarly missed only two races.

And my track record for my daughter’s sports and drama events was spotless – but only for another 24 hours, I confided to Scott.

I shared how my daughter played Dorothy in an elementary school play and despite attending the dress rehearsal I skipped covering two Lakers playoff games during the Magic Johnson Showtime Era to be at Opening and Closing Nights for “The Lizard of Ahhs.” In all, I saw all four performances and continued this streak through every production of two high school plays she wrote and a handful more in college and beyond.

Now my daughter was giving a reading of one of her published short stories at San Jose State’s Center for Steinbeck Studies and my proud run was about to end.

I had attended her first reading as a Steinbeck Fellow six months earlier but this time my wife would be on hand (and also visiting her mother for a milestone birthday) while I stayed home dog-sitting as our boxer does not fare well in the kennel.

I rationalized to Scott that I was just thankful to have not missed any big events when my daughter was young because it mattered more then.

“It matters even when they are grown,” Scott replied, wisely. After a brief pause he added in command: “You have to go.”

Robert Louis Stevenson was wrong when he wrote, “To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.” Arriving the next evening was a far better thing than hopefully anticipating my daughter’s surprised delight during my 330-mile drive.

As expected, she teared up at seeing me – and I did likewise during her reading of an emotional story. Indeed, the 11 hours of travel sandwiched around a much-too-brief three-hour visit was well worth it. As Mark Twain observed, “To get the full value of joy you must have somebody to share it with.”

I had to share it with her in person.

I encourage you to similarly heed Scott’s sagacity with your own children, be they young or old. But, as my friend believes, does it truly matter as much when they are grown?

Here’s my answer: “Daddy, I’ll remember this for the rest of my life,” my daughter whispered in my ear during our goodbye hug.

But even that sweetness wasn’t the evening’s pinnacle for me. Trumping that is when my daughter saw me walk into the room she says she wasn’t really surprised.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

Column: “Star Scholars” Shine

by Woody

Relax, Future Is In Great Hands

 

Earl Warren, Chief Justice of the United States from 1953 to 1969, famously ruled: “I always turn to the sports section first. The sports page records people’s accomplishments; the front page has nothing but man’s failures.”

 

            The sports world has since offered up a dissenting opinion. Today, Warren would spit out his morning coffee reading about performance-enhancing drug cheats, grade scandals and worse in the sports section.1scholars

 

Indeed, too often there are no pages to turn for people’s accomplishments.

 

Which is why I always look forward to late April when my favorite newspaper runs its annual “Star Scholar Awards” section, as it did once again earlier this week.

 

            The 31st edition honored 88 of Ventura County’s top seniors from the Class of 2014. To read their profiles is to feel a swell of pride and optimism for our collective future. Tomorrow is in good hands.

 

            The Star Scholars are the perfect tonic for widespread complaints like this: “I see no hope for the future of our people if they are dependent on frivolous youth of today, for certainly all youth are reckless beyond words. When I was young, we were taught to be discreet and respectful of elders, but the present youth are exceedingly (disrespectful) and impatient.”

 

            So grumbled Hesiod, a Greek poet in eighth century BC.

 

            Here’s a more recent criticism: “The world is passing through troublous times. The young people of today think of nothing but themselves. They talk as if they knew everything, and what passes for wisdom with us is foolishness with them. As for the girls, they are forward, immodest and unladylike in speech, behavior and dress.”

 

This denunciation was delivered in a sermon by Peter the Hermit, a priest and key figure during the First Crusade, in 1274.

 

            Things haven’t much changed in 2014. Today’s generation gets an earful about feeling entitled, playing video games, having inflated self-esteem, ad nauseam.

 

            To these naysayers I proudly point out The Star Scholars. Reading their 88 biographies almost makes you begin to think “ho-hum” about 4.3 and 4.5 and 4.8 grade point averages.

 

            Amazingly, the Star Scholars’ stratospheric GPAs are about the least amazing thing about them. Their consequence extends far beyond the classroom.

 

They don’t just play sports, they are team captains. They compete on basketball and tennis and volleyball courts – and in Mock Trial courts.

 

They are class presidents and philanthropists; violinists and black belts.

 

They act in plays; choreograph and perform dances; march in bands and play in orchestras.

 

They write for school newspapers and yearbooks; win ribbons at science fairs and medals in Academic Decathlon.

 

            They also collectively perform nearly as much volunteer work as the Red Cross and UNICEF combined. They lead blood drives and canned food drives – and drive the elderly to doctor appointments. They tutor youngsters and tidy up beaches. They assist at local hospitals and travel abroad on mercy missions.

 

For example, Aashal Patel – this year’s recipient of the special $5,000 Julius Gius Star Scholarship in recognition of The Star’s late esteemed editor – last summer made a three-week humanitarian trip to an orphanage in Africa. Mother Teresa would be pleased.

 

            You look at the resumes of these young role models and wonder when they find time to sleep. You figure they must have unraveled the space-time continuum and their days last 48 hours.

 

            Here is something else marvelous – each Star Scholar has numerous peers of great accomplishment at her/his school who are deserving of similar recognition. Indeed, I guarantee you The Star’s special 16-page section could have easily been 32 pages or even 64.

 

In the introduction to a collection of his “Editor’s Notebook” columns, Julius Gius wrote: “I have had a rich and rewarding life. Everything has come up roses for me. … I count my blessings every day and wish them for everyone.”

 

The future looks more rosy thanks to youth like these Star Scholars. It seems fitting there are 88 of them, one for each key on a piano, for they promise to create beautiful music in the decades to come.

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

 

 

Column: Readers Check In

by Woody

Turning The Forum Over To My Readers

 

Rarely has one of my columns received greater response than last week’s about Chris Prewitt, a truly remarkable man/husband/father/son/friend/educator/role model who was tragically killed at age 38 during a marathon training run when he was hit by a driver who has pleaded guilty to felony gross vehicular manslaughter while under the influence of alcohol or drugs.

 

            MarxBrosAlong with sharing some of these heartfelt notes, below too are some light-hearted suggestions from readers regarding my recent non-presidential Mount Rushmores column.

 

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From Larry Seguin: “Chris’ father, Choyce, is a friend of mine. We have lunch together with some other friends on most Mondays.

 

“At the beginning of March, Choyce brought Chris to lunch. It was the first time I had met him. An hour later, as we were leaving, I told Chris what an absolute pleasure it had been to meet him. I meant it from the bottom of my heart.

 

“I had no idea I would never have that pleasure again. I can tell you, from that one meeting, what an honor and privilege it was to have met such a wonderful young man. I can honestly say I will never forget him.”

 

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From Tom Spence, a Mount Rushmore of Funny Brothers: “Groucho, Harpo, Chico, Zeppo (sorry Gummo).” He added a Mount Rushmore of Non-Related Comedians: “Richard Pryor, Steve Martin, George Carlin, Chris Rock.”

 

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From Chris Lang: “I only knew Chris briefly in 1996 as a young man and coach of the Newbury Park High School girls’ water polo team my daughter’s freshman year.

 

“I am sure that in the next 18 years of his life he touched so many students and student-athletes, as well as parents, co-workers, friends and family. They all are better people for having known him.”

 

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Julie Merrick suggested a Mount Rushmore of Beatles Songs: “Let It Be, Yesterday, Strawberry Fields Forever, and I Want To Hold Your Hand. (My thoughts today.)”

 

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From Larry Baratte, who coached Prewitt in water polo (1993-94) and swimming (1994-95) at Ventura College: “Chris and I remained a part of each other’s lives twenty years after our first meeting.

 

“I knew him, loved him, and saw his great potential at an early age. He lived out every bit of that potential. Only the extent of his reach, in terms of the number of lives he personally affected, was cut short.

 

“Chris is gone and I, too, thought of all the future students who will miss the chance to have this man come into their lives and make a lasting impression. But I have seen evidence this week that his enduring message will continue in the words and actions of those very students that he touched. I find great comfort in this.

 

“My thoughts and prayers continue to center on his wife and daughter, along with his extended family. This void will never be filled for them. For the rest of us who knew him and loved him there is simply an overwhelming sense of loss combined with a feeling of great gratitude for having him in our lives.”

 

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Dallas Woodburn had a complaint with my Mount Rushmores: “You didn’t include Greatest Chick Flicks – When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail and Serendipity!”

 

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Prewitt’s legacy reaches far and wide, as evidenced by Dave Stancliff who wrote from Oregon: “So sorry to hear about what happened to this great man/artist. I didn’t need to personally know him to respect him. I knew him as Mr. Moore back in my school days. I still honor his memory.

 

“Mr. Moore was my fifth-grade English teacher. He helped channel my energy into something positive – writing. With his encouragement, I found a way to express myself. Not a good talker. No musical ability. Can’t dance. But, thanks to Mr. Moore I write . . . and write.”

 

Indeed, Mr. Stancliff was my very first newspaper editor and remains one of the finest writers I know.

 

If we are lucky, we all have our own Mr. Moore in our lives. For countless people, their personal Mount Rushmore includes Mr. Chris Prewitt.

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

 

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

 

 

Column: Tragic Loss of “Artist”

by Woody

Teaching Fraternity Loses an “Artist”

 

“There are two kinds of teachers,” the great poet Robert Frost said. “The kind that fill you with so much quail shot you can’t move, and the kind that just give you a little prod behind and you jump to the skies.”

 

Like many, I was fortunate to have a handful that prodded me. Miss James, Mr. Ridland, Ms. Hutchings and Mr. McFadden meant the sky to me.

Chris Prewitt

Chris Prewitt

 

And not to me alone, for as Andy Rooney observed: “Teachers have thousands of people who remember them for the rest of their lives.”

 

            That figure seems on the low side for Chris Prewitt.

 

Indeed, he seems to have gently prodded so many earthbound young people to jump for the skies during his far-too-brief teaching career that a memorial service this morning at 10 a.m. is being held in the Buena High School football stadium.

 

            Prewitt was tragically killed at age 38 last Sunday morning when he was hit by a car during a 16-mile run training for a marathon. The driver, 23-year-old Shante Chappell, is accused of the heinous crime of driving under the influence of drugs.

 

Making the senseless heartbreak further unbearable is that Prewitt leaves behind his wife, Erin, and 7-year-old daughter, Isabella, with a road of missed milestones laying ahead – from elementary school plays to proms to graduations and marriage and more.

 

(People interested can contribute to a college fund for Isabella at http://www.youcaring.com and search for “Chris Prewitt.”)

 

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes you hear or read about a person and you not only wish you knew them – you feel at a loss because you don’t. Or didn’t. This is how I feel about Prewitt.

 

In a way, however, I feel like I did know this remarkable man because the outpouring of heartfelt words reminds me of how widely beloved one of my own favorite teachers was, the late Harold McFadden.

 

            Moreover, that Prewitt made such a profound impression on a number of people I know and revere – such as Trudy Tuttle Arriaga and Joe Vaughan – makes his loss resonate deeper.

 

Arriaga, superintendant of the Ventura Unified School District, told The Star: “He had a unique way of spreading his love of life.”

 

That passion spread to Emily Park, Foothill Tech’s 2013 valedictorian who now attends Wellesley College in Boston. Her most beautiful of eulogies, titled “A Recommendation For Mr. Prewitt To Enter Heaven” for Foothilldragonpress.org, includes this line: “My dream is to have the work ethic, the positivity, the pure kindness, the leadership skills, and the effect on people that Mr. Prewitt had while he was living.”

 

Without question, Mr. Prewitt prodded Emily to jump for the skies.

 

“One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings,” Carl Jung wrote. “The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child.”

 

It has become far too fashionable to blame teachers for the shortcomings in our educational system. While Prewitt was by all accounts exceptional, he still was not the exception. I guarantee you DeAnza Academy of Technology and Arts, where Prewitt was the assistant principal, has other brilliant teachers. Same for Foothill Tech, where Prewitt taught previously; and Buena High, where he coached water polo.

 

And every other school in Ventura County.

 

Because of one driver who didn’t belong on the road future classrooms will be diminished by not experiencing Prewitt’s vital warmth. This diminishes the future for all of us.

 

 “I have come to believe that a great teacher is a great artist and that there are as few as there are any other great artists,” the word artist John Steinbeck said. “Teaching might even be the greatest of the arts since the medium is the human mind and spirit.”

 

We have lost a great artist.

 

Chris Prewitt’s work, however, will live on in his former students – surely some who will become teachers and great “artists” themselves giving their students a little prod to jump for the skies.

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

 

 

Column: New Mount Rushmores

by Woody

We’re Going To Need More Granite

 

Eighty years ago the sculpture on steroids known as Mount Rushmore had the face of its first rock star dedicated in ceremony. Three years later in 1936 Thomas Jefferson joined George Washington followed by Abraham Lincoln’s face in 1937. Lastly, in 1939, Theodore Roosevelt’s spectacled countenance completed the famous presidential quartet.

 

RushmoreIn honor of the 75th anniversary, I thought it would be fun to consider some other Mount Rushmores. Certainly you will not agree with all – or perhaps even many – of my suggestions, but that’s part of the fun.

 

Likely, one’s own age and biases will blur their vision.

 

And, hopefully, good-natured arguments will ensue which is fine because these are not written in stone – oh, wait, yes they are!

 

Let’s put the boxing gloves on and begin.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Boxing – Jack Johnson, Joe Louis, Muhammad Ali and Rocky Balboa.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Models – Surely dating myself, I’ll go with chiseling in granite these – um – busts: Cheryl Tiegs, Kathy Ireland, Elle Macpherson and Christie Brinkley.

 

The Mount Rushmore of American Writers (Male) – Hemingway, Twain, Steinbeck and, since this is my list, Jim Murray.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Writers (Female) – Emily Dickinson, Harper Lee (I know, I know, she only wrote one book but “To Kill A Mockingbird” is THAT great!), J.K. Rowling (conversely for her series of books and their impact on young readers), and Maya Angelou (for her voice aloud as well as on the written page).

 

The Mount Rushmore of Athletic Shoes – PF Flyers, Chuck Taylor Converse High-Tops, Adidas Superstars and Nike Air Jordans.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Stadiums – Since there are far more great stadiums than great presidents, I’m breaking this into categories:

 

Baseball – Yankee Stadium, Fenway Park, Dodger Stadium and (sorry Wrigley Field) the tiny Field of Dreams.

 

Football/Track – The Colosseum (in Rome),The Coliseum (Los Angeles Memorial, host of two Olympics and two Super Bowls including the first), The Rose Bowl (framed by the San Gabriel Mountains) and (sorry Lambeau Stadium, Notre Dame Stadium, Ohio Stadium, Soldier Field and others) The Astrodome (for good reason called in 1965 “The Eighth Wonder of the World”).

 

            Arenas – The original Madison Square Garden, the original Boston Garden, The “Fabulous” Forum and Pauley Pavilion because championship banners matter.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Cold Cereals – Corn Flakes, Rice Krispies, Raisin Bran and Wheaties.

 

My Personal Boyhood Mount Rushmore of Sugar For Breakfast – Froot Loops, Super Sugar Crisp, Alpha-Bits and Tony The Tiger’s “They’re Grrreat!” Frosted Flakes.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Candy Bars – Hershey, Milky Way, Snickers and 3 Musketeers.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Basketball – James Naismith (The Inventor), John Wooden (The Wizard), Phil Jackson (The Zen Master) and Jerry West (The NBA’s Logo and thus represents all the hardwood greats).

 

The Mount Rushmore of Quarterbacks – Johnny Unitas, Otto Graham (seven pro championships in 10 title games in his 10-year-career), Joe Montana and I’ll have to get back to you on the fourth.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Tennis (Men) – Remember this is my monument: Rod Laver, Bjorn Borg, and Mike and Bob Bryan (unlike the greatest singles player in history, there is no debate over the greatest doubles tandem ever).

 

The Mount Rushmore of Tennis (Women) – Billie Jean King, Chris Evert, Martina Navratilova and Steffi Graf.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Superheroes (Comics) – Batman, Superman, (Comics), Spider-Man and (my monument) Mighty Mouse.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Superheroes (Film) – John Wayne (almost every role), James Bond, Atticus Finch and James Bailey.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Female Vocalists – Aretha Franklin, Ella Fitzgerald, Janis Joplin and Whitney Houston.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Male Vocalists – I’m not even going to try.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Movies – Impossible, but here goes: The Jazz Singer (first talkie), Casablanca (first on many people’s list), Star Wars (hey, its my list) and just to make my Pops happy, his boyhood version of Star Wars and all-time favorite movie to this day, The Adventures of Robin Hood starring Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland.

 

The Mount Rushmore of Rock ’n’ Roll – In another impossible category, I choose to have George, Thomas, Abe and Teddy joined by John, Paul, George and Ringo.

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

 

 

Column: The Fun of Getting Lost

by Woody

Getting Lost in the Art of Travel

 

“Through my own efforts,” John Steinbeck wrote in “Travels with Charley: In Search of America,” “I am lost most of the time without help from anyone.”

 

Through my own travels I have been lost many times with help from someone – my son.

 

SteinbeckHouse

The boyhood home of John Steinbeck in Salinas, California is now a restaurant/museum. He wrote his first two novels — The Red Pony and Tortilla Flat — in his bedroom upstairs (on the left in this photo).

 

Nonetheless, over the years we have had our Gilligan and Skipper moments. Most recently last week when The Boy was home for spring break and we got lost in Salinas looking for The Steinbeck House restaurant.

 

Technology, not The Boy, was to blame as the GPS directions app developed a “recalculating” stutter. Like Neil Armstrong coolly landing Apollo 11’s Lunar Module manually, The Boy turned off the computer and trusted himself until finally: “Mission Control, the Prius has parked.”

 

The half-hour travail was well worth it.

 

The Queen Anne style Victorian house was built in 1897 and Steinbeck was born in the front bedroom (now the restaurant’s reception area) five years later. In the early 1930s he wrote his first two novels – “The Red Pony” and “Tortilla Flat” – in the front upstairs bedroom overlooking the valley.

 

TortillaFlatThe 1962 Nobel Prize for Literature recipient’s boyhood home was authentically restored and opened to the public for tours – and lunches – in 1974 and designated a Literary Landmark in 1995. As a writer, I was mesmerized. As a bonus, no museum anywhere serves a tastier chicken salad sandwich.

 

Our step back in time included stepping down into the cellar (now the gift shop) where two volunteer docents – who might have read “Grapes of Wrath” when it was first published in 1940 – were befuddled by the computerized cash register and eventually calculated my purchase with pencil, paper and a sales tax chart.

 

The road trip extended to San Francisco where The Boy got lost in reverence inside an art gallery featuring a remarkable collection of Salvador Dali’s work. The Boy so fell in love with art under the magical mentorship of Patti Post at Ventura High School that he minored in Painting in college. Our home now resembles an art show with his framed pieces throughout.

 

As usual I wandered the gallery more quickly than The Boy. An aggressive salesperson, however, matched my pace even after I politely explained I was not looking to buy but was merely along for the ride with my artist son.

 

My favorite Dali on display was a beautiful ink drawing of his wife, Gala. I should probably mention it is a nude. In defense of my lingering gaze, I will also share that nude pieces always bring to mind a story The Boy tells about the evening one of his college art classes had a nude model . . .

 

. . . a hairy gentleman who, like The Steinbeck House docents, may have read “The Grapes of Wrath” in first edition.

 

CharleyCover

Even when we get lost, I always enjoy my Travels With Greg (aka “The Boy”).

 

Out of curiosity I asked the saleswoman the price of the Dali nude. “Seventy-five thousand,” came the answer and I didn’t even blink, distracted from the stunning Gala by the image of those stunned college art students.

 

Eventually I found myself in a room dedicated to Picassos. The saleswoman followed, as did her questions, including this: “Are you a collector?”

 

“Oh, no,” I replied, amused she would think I could afford anything in this pricey gallery, adding nonchalantly with a casual sweep of my hand towards wherever The Boy now was in the gallery: “Only HIS stuff.”

 

Her eyes widened with thrill: “You have exquisite taste!”

 

Instantly I realized what had been lost in translation – she thought my gesture had been to signify Picasso’s stuff.

 

Thus another wonderful trip became even more so, for as Steinbeck also wrote in “Travels with Charley” – “One goes, not so much to see but to tell afterward.”

 

*

 

Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

Wooden & Me Kickstarter Front PhotoCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

 

 

Column: A tip to be generous

by Woody

 A Tip: Serve Up A Little Generosity

 

Good morning and welcome to today’s column. When you are done reading, please drop a tip in the mail.

 

This is what the world is coming to, it seems. Asking for tips.

 

TipToonTip jars. Tip glasses. Tip bowls, boxes and buckets. I have even seen a tip abalone shell. You see them everywhere. In cafes, coffee houses and bagel shops. In burrito huts, pizza parlors, burger joints. Doughnut shops, ice cream shops, sandwich shops.

 

I half expect my bank teller to put out a tip jar soon.

 

“Tips!”

 

“Tips, Please!”

 

“Leave your change, will ya!”

 

Actually, I haven’t seen the latter sign on a jar or conch shell – yet. But I did see a humorous threat in the pick-up window of a gourmet food truck: “Every Time You Don’t Tip A Child Gets A Mullet Haircut.”

 

Yes, as Bob Dylan sang, “The times they are a-changin’.”

 

Rather, these are “Got any loose change?” times.

 

At first blush these solicitations can leave a customer cold. I mean, why should you tip the barista who made your double-mocha-skinny-latte? Or the cashier who rings up the take-out order you are picking up? Isn’t that their job?

 

Well, yes. But is it not a waitresses/waiter’s job to take your order, serve your food and clear the table? Sure it is, yet we think nothing of leaving them a tip.

 

Actually, sometimes we think A LOT about it – as in trying to mentally calculate percentages to know how much to tip. But I digress.

 

The point is this: It is expected that we leave tips in sit-down restaurants because the waitstaff depends on “gratuities” to bring their pay at least up to minimum wage.

 

Personally, I wish all restaurant owners would just raise their menu prices 20 percent and pass 100 percent of this bump along to workers and save us the math-induced migraine.

 

The thing is, if anyone could use a booster shot for anemic wages more than waitresses and busboys it is hamburger helpers and teen-agers scooping ice cream.

 

And while 15 or 20 percent of a nice restaurant bill can be a tidy sum, a similar tip on a take-away bagel breakfast or pizza lunch deal is certainly not going to make you fall shy on your next car payment.

 

TipBucketAnd yet how often do we ignore the tip jar/glass/bowl/box/bucket/abalone shell? Sometimes, if you are at all like me, your intentions are good but the paltry change you receive back from the cashier seems like an insult to drop in the tip jar.

 

This isn’t a valid excuse because folding money is what we really should drop in. A dollar or two still often falls short of a 15-percent tip.

 

You will be surprised how grateful the person behind the counter will be for a two-buck tip. Drop an Abraham Lincoln or Alexander Hamilton in the jar/glass/bowl/box/bucket/abalone shell and you will almost see cartwheels of gratitude.

 

Indeed, I now embrace tip jars because the workers truly make it feel like you have given a “gratuity” instead of giving something expected.

 

In fact, I am disappointed when there isn’t a tip jar. This was especially the case when my take-out tab was nine cents over an even-dollar amount and I had no dime or any change. Nine cents was too much to take from the spare-penny dish, so I was doomed to getting back a pocketful of loose change.

 

Then my luck changed. The young man behind the counter gave me one of my dollar bills back, smiled, reached into his pocket and dropped his own dime into the register.

 

            With no tip jar, beyond a warm thank you the only gratuity I could give was to sing his praises to the manager.

 

And if you really want a philanthropic feeling for very little cost, tip a kid running a lemonade stand. I recently stopped to buy a $1 glass from two cute young girls.

 

Their glee made it the best five bucks I can remember spending in a long time when I put the change of four singles in – what else? – their decorated tip jar.

 

 

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

 

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”