Category Archives: Columns

Column: This, That and Ball Drive

by Woody

Notes, Thoughts and Ball Drive Update


            It is beyond remarkable the number of organizations – too many to begin to list them all – and countless individuals in Ventura County who provided gift toys and winter coats and meals to those in need this holiday season.WonderfulLife

 

Seemingly every day of December My Favorite Newspaper ran a story about a person or group that has helped turn Ventura County into Bedford Falls by selflessly giving to those in need.

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Speaking of Bedford Falls, my two cents says “It’s A Wonderful Life” remains the best holiday movie followed by “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”

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            Three unsung “heroes” people love to see: the UPS deliveryman on Christmas Eve when you were worried that the last-minute gift you ordered wouldn’t arrive in time; a plumber on Thanksgiving when your house is filled with guests and a pipe has broken or the hot-water tank has burst; and a tow truck driver when your car breaks down on the freeway.

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            Another often-unsung “hero” is a gifted and caring family medicine doc who through the years provides such warm and expert care – especially to your kids, even when they become adults – that he (or she) seems like a member of the family.

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            It is amazing and maddening how many rude drivers there are on the roads, but perhaps more amazing and gladdening is how many polite ones.

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            It is a small thing, but I hate it when I’m paying cash and the total due runs a few pennies over a round dollar figure and I don’t have any small change and there’s no “Take A Penny, Leave A penny” dish at the register – meaning I am going to now have a pocketful of coins.

 

            But I love it when this happens and the employee rounds the figure down and hands me back the dollar bill that was going to cover the few cents.

 

            And I really love it, because it’s so unexpected, when this kindness happens at a big-name franchise that can usually seem so impersonal.

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            While I am generally not a fan of “big box” stores, Costco is the huge exception because its return policy is unbelievable. Basically, with a few exceptions for electronics, if you have a receipt they will cheerfully give you a full refund with no explanation for your return required. If you aren’t happy, they want to make it right.

 

            For example, while waiting in line to return a memory foam mattress topper that didn’t live up to expectations after three months – and feeling a little guilty because I waited so long while still sleeping on it – a woman in front of me returned half of a huge package of chicken. While it looked like it might have already fed a family of six, the customer walked away with a full refund no questions asked.

 

So did I.

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            However, my favorite store for customer service and a return policy that is second-to-none is our local (and world as well) treasure Patagonia Great Pacific Ironworks.

 

            When a zipper broke on a year-old backpack, I took it in to see if they could repair it and instead they replaced it – with a newer, better model.

 

            And when an aluminum water bottle got smashed beyond use after a couple years of heavy – and careless – use, I showed it to a worker almost to brag at the abuse it took while purchasing a replacement and to my great surprise was not charged. In my view, that even trumps refunding the full purchase price for half a bag of uncooked, dripping chicken.

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            Facebook makes keeping up with friends easy year-round, but there is simply nothing like an old-fashioned holiday card – usually with a photo, often with a newsletter – that arrives in the mail.

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Lastly, deepest thanks to each and all who contributed to Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive this year, including these Good Samaritans from the past week – Ron Bale, Brad and Mia Ditto, Ann Drescher,Draza Mrvichin, Roselind Seats, Jo Stalder, Stephenie, and Anonymous – who collectively donated 38 new sports balls to help bring the total of smiling faces this Christmas morning to 103!

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.

 

Column: A Christmas Story

by Woody

Visiting Santa in a Nick of Time

 

            Seeing children visiting Santa at the mall the other day made me wonder what they are asking for – Xbox One, Razor Crazy Cart, and Big Hugs Elmo top the Toys“R”Us 2013 hot toys list – and also got me to reminiscing.

 

The winter I was five there was only one thing I wanted for Christmas. No, not a bike or baseball mitt. I already had a twice-hand-me-down two-wheeler with coaster brakes that could skid on a dime and a thirdhand mitt better than brand new because it had been broken-in to supple perfection by my two older brothers.Santa

 

What I wanted was a rope. Moreover, for some reason it had to reach from the far wall of the dining room across the house to the kitchen’s furthest wall.

 

            Mom had always taken us to Lazarus Department Store to see Santa; always on the very first day he arrived; and always she came home on the edge of a nervous breakdown after trying to keep three rambunctious young boys in line – and in line – for an hour.

 

But this year Pop promised Mom he would take us. As each day passed and Christmas drew nearer and nearer, he kept putting the visit off. When Jim, Doug and I started to whine, Pop took us aside and shared a big secret we were not to tell Mom.

 

            “If you go too soon,” he explained, “Santa sometimes forgets what you asked for. Think of all the kids he talks to. So the closer you wait until Christmas, the better the chances are Santa will remember who you are, where you live, and what you asked for. If we go see Santa on Christmas Eve afternoon, there is no way he will forget you.”

 

Pop’s real secret, of course, was this: There is no line whatsoever to see Santa on Christmas Eve afternoon because only a knuckleheaded parent would torture kids by making them wait so very long.

 

            Christmas Eve finally arrived, and sitting on Santa’s lap I said: “I want a rope that reaches all the way from the kitchen wall to the dining room wall.”

 

            “Ho-ho-ho. What else do you want, young man?”

 

            “That’s all, Santa. A long cowboy rope.”

 

            Like my parents, and Saint Nick, you surely are wondering, “Why a rope?”

 

            Gee whiz, to make a lasso for roping our dog Mac and swing from a tree like Tarzan and play Batman by making foot traps to catch Penguin and Joker (my big brothers) and a thousand other things.

 

            When we returned home from our Lazarus excursion a half-hour later – the 10-minute drive each way included – Mom shot Pop a stare that would freeze Prestone and scolded: “I told you that you waited too long! Santa was gone and now don’t you feel terrible? I’m so sorry kids … ”

 

            Pop: “They saw Santa.”

 

            Jim, Doug and me (in happy unison): “We didn’t even have to wait in line!”

 

            I’m guessing Mommy didn’t kiss Santa Clause underneath the mistletoe that night.

 

            Early Christmas morning, we tore down the stairs and tore open our presents and inside one was a fat, silky-soft, white nylon rope, the tips of both ends melted coal black to prevent unraveling.

 

Before celebrating the glorious gift, I made Pop hold one end against the dining room wall while I marched across the house with the other end.

 

            Pop admitted many years later he was literally at the end of his rope in panic because he had not measured the actual distance between the two walls; he just went out and bought a generous length of the nicest rope he could find.

 

He also confesses that as I neared the far kitchen wall, and the rope began to grow taut, he pulled his end away from the dining room wall about two feet – which, in my excitement, thankfully went unnoticed by me.

 

Indeed, I not only thought Santa came through meeting my exact specifications but I was certain this was because we waited until Christmas Eve afternoon to see him so my gift request was fresh in his mind.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.

 

Column: My 2013 Reading List

by Woody

‘So many books, so little time’ in 2013

 

“I guess there are never enough books,” the great author John Steinbeck once said while the late musician Frank Zappa offered this contrary observation: “So many books, so little time.”

 

I think they both hit the mark. Indeed, because I was so busy this past year writing my own contribution for the world’s endlessly expanding bookshelf – “Wooden & Me” – I found there was far too little time to reach my annual reading goal of 52 books.CaliforniosCover

 

From the 44 books I have read thus far in 2013, here is a short stack of high recommendations.

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“The Art of Fielding: A Novel” by Chad Harbach. This is not a sports novel, it is simply a terrific novel with a backdrop that happens to be a baseball diamond. Imagine Rocky Balboa as a scrawny shortstop at a tiny college suddenly destined for greatness in the Big Leagues – although underdog Henry Skrimshander’s gift could be music or painting or any other passion. Add in love and death, second chances and friendships, and a series of roller-coaster story lines and you have a one-hit shutout that keeps you on the edge of your seat until the final out – or throwing error.

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In 2012, I recommended “The Grapes of Wrath” and “East of Eden.” This year I went on a full-out John Steinbeck spree with “Cannery Row”, “Sweet Thursday”, “Tortilla Flat”, “The Winter of Our Discontent” and “Cup of Gold.” I recommend all five, and highly, although I think “Sweet Thursday” is my favorite of the handful.

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Jeff McElroy, a gifted author from Ventura County whose awards include first place in the national Writer’s Digest Short Story Contest, has long admired Steinbeck’s work and the influence is on display in “Californios: A Collection of Stories” that features powerful and gritty, yet elegant, storytelling that the master himself would have surely enjoyed.

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            Were I picking only three books to endorse this year, “The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics” byDaniel James Brown would without question make the podium – and perhaps atop in the gold-medal position. This inspirational true story is the eight-oar crew racing equivalent of the track-and-field standard “Chariots of Fire.”

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            On the topic of battling long odds, “David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants” by Malcolm Gladwell is a flat-out winner from start to finish.

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“One Summer: America, 1927” by Bill Bryson is a historical tapestry weaving together a wide range of people and events, although my favorite piece of yarn is Charles Lindbergh’s quest to become the first man to fly nonstop across the Atlantic.

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F. Scott Fitzgerald was on my reading list twice this year with “The Great Gatsby” which stands the test of time and “This Side of Paradise” which I wish I had left on the bookshelf to gather dust.

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            Speaking of paradise, Ventura author Ken McAlpine gets my nod of admiration for the third consecutive year. Previously, I enjoyed his nonfiction travel narratives “Islands Apart” and “Off-Season” and then his foray into fiction with “Fog” and “Together We Jump.” Now I recommend his new collection of personal essays titled “West Is Eden: Reflections On This Gift Called Life.” While it is thin on pages at 74, it is deep in emotion and enlightenment. McAlpine says, “Life’s little moments aren’t little at all” – nor is this small book little.

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Another paradise-themed book, though thicker at 440 pages, that beautifully examines the gifts of life – and nature – is “Son of the Wilderness: The Life of John Muir” by Linnie Marsh Wolfe.

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Lastly, the first book I read in 2013 definitely merits mention: “The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates” by Wes Moore. “Our roots help to determine our routes” is a line from this book that features one Wes Moore who had roots trying to grow on cracked pavement and fed by drugs and negative role models while the other Wes Moore – the author and Rhodes Scholar – had a network of strong nurturing roots reaching deep into hearty soil, albeit inner-city soil, that refused to let the gale winds he encountered topple him.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.

Column: Service Helps Others

by Woody

Querrey Serves Up Big Highlight

 

A pre-Thanksgiving serving of leftovers from my notepad . . .

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            If you had to choose a single word to describe Thousand Oaks native Sam Querrey “big” would be difficult to top.

For starters, the world’s No. 31-ranked tennis player stands 6 feet 6 inches tall.

His serve is also certainly big, having been clocked at 147 miles per hour. To give you further measure, James Blake once watched an ATP Tour-record 10 consecutive aces off of Sam’s racket strings fly past him.foodshare

            Indeed, Sam has a big game (he has been ranked as high as No. 17); a big trophy case (seven pro singles titles plus four in doubles); and a big bank account ($5 million in career prize winnings).

            Oh, yes, and a big heart.

            When Querrey learned about a wish by Thousand Oaks resident Kevin Feinbloom, who was recently diagnosed with Stage 4 esophageal cancer, the American Davis Cupper served up his services.

“He played and sat with us for two hours,” Feinbloom recalled, noting that his two children – Cole, 17, and Julia, 14 – also got to hit balls with the tennis idol. “It was the coolest thing ever.”

Actually, something even cooler happened. During that magical afternoon on the court Feinbloom was hit with a new dream: to put on a fundraiser to help send Ventura County children to Andrea Jaeger’s remarkable Little Star Foundation camp in Colorado that specially serves kids who are battling cancer.

“After a few days of my head spinning around and thinking how I can’t believe what the hell I’m going through, I figured that instead of sitting back and letting it kick my butt, I’d better do something,” Feinbloom explained.

And so was born the “Fans In The Stands Foundation Tennis Festival” this Sunday (Nov. 24) at North Ranch Country Club in Thousand Oaks from 11 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. (Ticket information: www.FansInTheStands.org)

Querrey not only volunteered to take part in the worthwhile event that includes a youth clinic, he recruited former USC Trojan and two-time NCAA singles champion Steve Johnson to play in an exhibition.

Jaeger, who at age 16 was ranked No. 2 in the world, will also be on hand.

“(Feinbloom’s) story and wanting to do something like this really touched me,” Jaeger told former VC Star tennis writer Steve Pratt. “When I first saw his email, I just sat down and said ‘wow.’ I mean, the father has been diagnosed with Stage 4, the same year his wife has had breast cancer treatments, and they have children.

“Kevin is determined to make a difference.”

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Speaking of making a difference, for every $1 donated to FOOD Share (www.foodshare.com) it will provide over $5 worth of food for families in Ventura County – especially priceless during the coming holiday season.

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Another local difference-maker is the Ventura County Community Foundation that will give away $1.2 million via 455 scholarships for the 2014-15 school year. For application information visit www.vccf.org.

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            On the topic of academics, it was reported that of the more than 104,000 students who this year took the Advanced Placement Calculus exam worldwide in 59 countries, only 11 earned a perfect score.

            All 11 pefectos are from the United States. With all the derision directed at our educational system, this is definitely worth bragging about.

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            Another news story this week: “Analysis of studies on millions of children around the world finds they don’t run as fast or as far as their parents did when they were young. On average, it takes children 90 seconds longer to run a mile than their counterparts did 30 years ago.”

            Meanwhile, for some kids a bigger challenge is trying to run as fast as their parents do NOW. For example, the offspring of a quintet of Ventura County sheriff’s deputies – Randy Pentis, Tim Hagel, Paul Higgason, Dave Kenney and Frank Underlin – who earlier this month completed the Bagan Temple Marathon in conditions (102 degrees and 90 percent humidity) more suitable for basting a turkey than running 26.2 miles.

            Pity the crook of any age who tries to escape one of them on foot.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.

Column: A Grandma’s Wisdom

by Woody

Granddaughter Discovers a New Hero

 

When the phone call came a few months back offering a Steinbeck Fellowship in Creative Writing at San Jose State University, my 26-year-old daughter was thrilled at the academic opportunity, financial support to work on a novel, and the honor of being associated in some small way with one of her literary heroes.DalAndGMa

 

Little did she know that the real prize would be in discovering a new hero in a person she has long known though only through short visits. I will now let Dallas take over . . .

 

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I’ve been living with my maternal grandparents in the Bay Area for almost three months now. Daily life with these two full-of-life octogenarians has been a true gift. My grandparents are insightful, intelligent, kind, hardworking and often hilarious. And their love for each other warms my spirit.

 

I have especially learned a great deal from watching and listening to Grandma. Here is a woman who grew up during the Great Depression and World War II, and learned from her mother how to live with the utmost frugality.

 

She later graduated from college and earned a Master’s degree (when this was far more rare for women) and then worked full-time as a teacher while raising four children – often largely by herself, as Grandpap traveled greatly for his job.

 

Grandma is the matriarch of our family, always going out of her way to see that her children and grandchildren are happy and well fed and comfortable.

 

She also talks each and every day to her sister, who lives near Pittsburgh where they grew up as kids; interacts with a wide network of friends; and volunteers through various organizations. Grandma is a vibrant role model.

 

I’m so proud of the woman Grandma is – and proud to be her granddaughter. Here are some lessons, small and large, that I’ve learned from living with her these past few months.

 

Show Your Love. My grandma isn’t one to say “I love you” all that often. She says she can’t really remember her parents ever telling her they loved her, but she always knew they did because of their loving actions. Grandma is continually doing kind things for the people she cares about. Indeed, her caring gestures say “I love you” every day.

 

Always Bring a Jacket. It can be sunny out, but you never know when the weather is going to turn for the worse.

 

Always Bring a Snack. You don’t want to be hungry. Stick a granola bar in your purse, at the very least.

 

Be Early. My grandma is nearly always the first person at the movie theater, picking the best seat in the house. Like Goldilocks, often she’ll change her mind two or three times before settling on the seat she thinks is just right.

 

The Freezer is Your Friend. Grandma firmly believes in “waste not, want not.” All leftovers are refrigerated unless she thinks we won’t eat them right away, in which case into the freezer they go. Casseroles, lasagna, bread, cookies, pies – everything can be frozen and resurrected later. The woman wastes nothing. It’s amazing.

 

Soup is Super. If you don’t know what to cook for dinner, raid the fridge and make soup. You can’t go wrong with a pot of chicken stock and diced veggies.

 

Walk Daily. Every morning, even when her arthritic hip is acting up, Grandma puts on her tennis shoes and goes for a walk around the neighborhood. She also believes in exercising early before the craziness of the day sets in.

 

Escape The Indoors. If the sun is shining and the breeze isn’t too cold, Grandma finds time to enjoy the fresh air in a lounge chair on the patio; reading, talking on the phone, maybe enjoying an afternoon nap.

 

Forgive “Yo-Yo Heads.” My grandma’s favorite term for someone who disappoints is a “yo-yo head.” According to her, we are all yo-yo heads sometimes. So be patient with each other.

 

I enjoyed reading “Travels With Charley” but I am really loving “Living With Grandma (and Grandpap).”

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.

 

Column: John McDougal, Bibliophile

by Woody

BannerBooksJohn Barnes & Nobles’ Resident Bibliophile

 

While American workers play musical swivel chairs, plopping into a new job every 4.4 years on average according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, John McDougal has marched around and around as the workplace Muzak has changed from Madonna to Sheryl Crow to Alicia Keys to Taylor Swift.

 

Earlier this year McDougal celebrated his 30th anniversary at Barnes & Noble Booksellers. The Ventura store even has a banner on proud display recognizing the rare feat.

Talking books and writers over a beer with John McDougal is a real treat.

Talking books and writers over a beer with John McDougal is a real treat.

McDougal has seen the bookstore landscape change greatly over the past three decades. For starters, Barnes & Noble was still B. Dalton’s when he began working at its small store in the old Esplanade Mall in Oxnard.

 

He next worked at the single-story Barnes & Noble in Ventura at Main Street and Telephone Road and a decade ago was part of the lock-stock-and-books relocation into a grand new two-story B&N where the old 101 Drive-In theater used to be.

 

“A lot has changed,” McDougal reminisces. “I remember when we used carbon copies for orders. We looked up books on microfiche – and we still couldn’t tell you if we actually had it. But it was a small store, so we kind of knew.”

 

Today’s store is a much larger with countless more titles, but McDougal still usually knows if a book is in stock without checking the modern computer system; where it is located; and what’s inside the cover.

 

For good reason here is how one fellow employee introduces him to customers seeking a reading recommendation: “This is Mr. McDougal and he knows every book in the world.”

 

John McDougal, born and raised in Oxnard, says he was a “library kid” and to this day reads more than a book a week. Asked for some of his Hall of Fame reads, he replied: “One of my all-time favorites is T.H. White’s The Once And Ancient Future King. I re-read The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame again and again. Little Big Man by Thomas Berger. Steinbeck, of course. Norman Maclean’s A River Runs Through It . . . .”

 

He was just getting started.

 

John McDougal is 56 years old with a boyish mop of curls – albeit now salt-and-peppered with a matching goatee – that defies gravity. Add in round wire-rim glasses and he brings to mind a wise and kindly college professor.

 

The 8-year-old library kid is now an adult bibliophile as evidenced by the three glass bookcases in the front room of his home, each filled with “my treasures” as he calls his rare collection.

 

While he loves old-fashioned bound books, McDougal is a growing fan of e-readers because they allow him to find out-of-print titles he has been searching decades for in used bookstores.

 

“Not everyone likes to read what I do,” McDougal allows. “Everyone has different tastes. Some people want to read what’s popular right now; others are open to wider suggestions.

 

“I ask questions and then do my best,” he continues of his magic formula for recommending books. “It’s pretty gratifying to have someone come back and say, ‘Thanks! That was great! What should I read next?’ ”

 

A new question McDougal hears, prodded by the anniversary banner, is: “When are you going to retire?”

 

“Maybe in another 30 years,” he answers. “I’m having too much fun.”

 

In honor of his loyalty and longevity, McDougal is being given a celebratory trip anywhere in the world. He plans to take his wife LoRena to London, which will bring this tale full circle.

 

You see, while McDougal’s official bookstore anniversary is Feb. 22, 1983, he actually worked at B. Dalton’s for two years following graduation from UC Santa Barbara in 1979. After saving some money, he quit and packed his backpack for Europe.

 

“I wanted to travel before going on to the next stage in my life,” he recalls of the 13-month odyessy that followed. He eventually rushed home when his girlfriend informed him she had met another guy.

 

“It had a happy ending,” McDougal says, smiling because that girlfriend became his wife. This time LoRena will be at his side flying across the Atlantic – no doubt with a carry-on book that comes expertly recommended.

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.

 

Columns: Teachers Speak Out

by Woody

Some Teachers at End of Their Rope

 

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view,” Atticus Finch wisely says in the great novel To Kill a Mockingbird. “. . . until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”
            A handful of emails from local teachers allowed me to climb into their skin and walk around in it – and better understand why a growing number feel at the end of their rope.

 

To begin, consider this actual classroom exchange one local high school teacher, who I’ll call “Ms. C” to respect her privacy, recounted:Apple1

 

“Student: ‘Ms. C, Do you allow make up tests? I didn’t read the book.’

 

“(Keep in mind that we read the first two chapters together. They had to read one chapter on their own – 12 pages.)

 

“Me: ‘Um, no. In the future I suggest you do the reading.’

 

“Student: ‘Wow. That’s harsh.’
“Really? *sigh*”

 

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            My recent column about the mini-documentary “Black Out”, which focuses on the great lengths students in Guinea go to in order to study under public lights at gas stations and parking lots because they do not have electricity at home, brought a number of sighs from teachers who wished they saw more of this attitude in their classrooms.

 

            “Powerful column today,” wrote S.K. “I especially applaud the paragraph which reads, ‘More simply, I wish every classroom in America would require its students – and parents – . . .’

 

“Including parents is huge! My 30-something niece called me this morning. She told of her daughter, my grandniece, in the fifth grade, not performing well on a test. My niece and her husband – who is a Special Education teacher – contacted the teacher to see what they could do to help. I applauded their pro-active stance and willingness to play an active role in their daughter’s education.

 

“If more parents were pro-active in the education of their children, if more parents placed more value on education, perhaps we would not see our test scores declining.”

 

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From S.Z., this heavy sigh:

 

“My daughter is a math teacher at (area high school) and the excuses she gets are as stupid as ‘the dog ate . . .’ Or no excuse and no homework assignment done either.

 

“Parents often aren’t much better. They don’t require their kids to even go to school, much less attend class, and wonder why their little darling is failing which, by the way, is now not allowed – no more failing kids.

 

“The same was true when I taught. A kid in English – ninth through 12th grades – would come to school every day with no homework. He took no tests; just sat there. At 18 he was sent on his way functionally illiterate.”

 

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And this from J.G.:

 

“I retired from Ventura Unified after 36 years of public school teaching. Due to something beyond our control I’m back doing some sub work at a couple of schools.

 

“I have always enjoyed being with kids so for the most part find it enjoyable even at my age. But boy have things changed. The kids (not all be any stretch of the imagination, but enough) are very hard to handle, are unresponsive, and downright disrespectful.

 

“There’s plenty of blame to go around, but from my vantage point I believe parents have done their kids a disservice by indulging them in so many things. Middle school kids carry iPhones, have plenty of money, wear a new $40 baseball cap every other week, etc. I really believe that we have hurt our kids.

 

“I think your column got my attention also because part of our family is living, studying, and teaching in Kenya at this time. Their dad, our middle son, was serving in missions in Africa when he contacted encephalitisand perished last February. They feel out of place in the U.S. and prefer living among people who don’t have everything.

 

“My hat is off to the kids you described . . . ”

 

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            Indeed, hats off to kids who study – and also to their parents who demand it and teachers who inspire it. 

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.

 

 

 

Column: Zoey’s will be missed

by Woody

Zoey’s – Those Were The Good Old Nights

 

Frank Sinatra’s 1973 song “There Used to Be a Ballpark Right Here” came melancholically to mind when the 101 Drive-In theater was demolished in 2001 and again when the Cabrillo Racquet Club permanently took down its tennis nets in the winter of 2007.

 

In the summer of 2008 it was the treasured indie bookstore Adventures For Kids that was lost, reminding me of Carly Simon’s 1971 hit “Anticipation” because when I took my two children to A4K (as loyal patrons called it) I knew “these are the good old days” that couldn’t last.Zoeys

 

Now another local touchstone has been lost. Zoey’s Cafe, a magical music mecca, killed its mics for good last Saturday. Another song from the early 1970s, “America Pie” by Don McLean, fits the moment beginning with the very second line: “I can still remember how that music used to make me smile.”

 

The music at Zoey’s made me, and countless others since Steve and Polly Hoganson bought it seven years ago, smile. The names of the musicians I saw there – mostly at the original location on Ventura’s Main Street with its upstairs “listening room” that was as intimate as a home den – escape me, but I remember this: those “good old days” in cozy Zoey’s were as magical as big-name concerts I have seen in the Hollywood Bowl.

 

A sample of this homey magic from my 26-year-old daughter: “I saw many wonderful singers at Zoey’s – most recently my friend from high school, Lauren Sexton, who came out with her debut CD ‘Home by Morning.’ And when I was going to Purdue in Indiana, I remember being homesick and feeling so happy and comforted when I saw ‘Zoey’s, Ventura, CA’ listed on Tony Luca’s concert T-shirt as a stop on his tour!”

 

In honor of Zoey’s and in thanks to the Hogansons – and also as a reminder of how important it is for each of us to frequent and support locally owned-and-run businesses – here is a “mash-up” created with lyrics from “Anticipation” (Simon), “America Pie” (McLean) and “There Used to Be a Ballpark Right Here” (Sinatra).

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I can still remember how that music used to make me smile (McLean)

 

And the air was such a wonder (Sinatra)

 

And, I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people dance (McLean)

 

And maybe they’d be happy for a while (McLean)

 

And the people watched in wonder (Sinatra)

 

And, there we were, all in one place (McLean)

 

With a joy I’d never seen. (Sinatra)

 

How they’d laugh and how they’d cheer (Sinatra)

 

Them good ol’ boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing (McLean)

 

And tomorrow we might not be together (Simon)

 

Man, I dig those rhythm and blues (McLean)

 

’cause these are the good old days (Simon)


Can you teach me how to dance real slow? (McLean)

 

I rehearsed those lines just late last night (Simon)

 

Can music save your mortal soul? (McLean)

 

I met a girl who sang the Blues (McLean)

 

These are the good old days (Simon)

 

Now, do you believe in Rock and Roll? (McLean)

 

We can never know about the days to come (Simon)

 

But we think about them anyway, yay (Simon)

 

We all got up to dance, oh, but we never got the chance  (McLean)

 

I knew I was out of luck the day the music died  (McLean)

 

I went down to the sacred store (McLean)

 

Now the children try to find it (Sinatra)

 

Where I’d heard the music years before, but (McLean)

 

The man there said the music wouldn’t play (McLean)

 

And the sky has got so cloudy (Sinatra)


When it used to be so clear (Sinatra)


And the summer went so quickly this year (Sinatra)

 

And, in the streets (McLean)

 

We (Simon)

 

Cried (McLean)

 

On (McLean)

 

The coast the day the music died (McLean)

 

Yes, there used to be (Sinatra)

 

Lovers (McLean)

 

And poets (McLean)

 

Right here (Sinatra)

 

Bad news on the doorstep (McLean)

 

Something touched me deep inside the day the music died (McLean)


So, bye bye (McLean)

 

Z (Sinatra) O (Simon ) EY (McLean ) ’S (McLean).

 

*

 

Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.

 

 

 

Column: Enlightened Darkness

by Woody

Shining Example Amid Darkness

 

Hearing my 23-year-old son talk about seeing kids in Ghana who walk three miles to and from school, and they consider it a privilege because there are some years when their village cannot afford to hire a teacher, shines a new light on education.

 

From another Third World trip, to Mali, my son tells of village children cut off from attending secondary school for four months each winter because a river with no adequate bridge floods during the rainy season.DarkBooks

 

            And so every time I see a new report with same old news that the United States is slipping down the educational ladder – ranking 17th according to a global report by the education firm Pearson – it angers me. Any excuse offered for this dismal showing is as lame as a fourth-grader claiming, “My dog ate my homework.”

 

            I wish every American youth could travel to Ghana or Mali or someplace similar and witness first-hand how kids there value the opportunity to attend school.

 

            More simply, I wish every classroom in America would require its students – and parents – to watch a three-minute documentary by award-winning filmmaker Eva Weber titled “Black Out.” (You can see it online at http://www.one.org/us/2013/10/08/the-dark-side-of-education/).

 

            Imagine countless Rocky Balboas with a tattered textbooks and you get a feel for “Black Out.” It should make every American student embarrassed to not finish a homework assignment or fail to study for an exam.

 

            The powerful video opens with this somber statistic: “Only a fifth of Guinea’s 10 million people have access to electricity” followed by this dark reality: “Every day during exam season, as the sun sets, hundreds of school children begin a nightly pilgrimage to find light.”

 

            Onscreen on a dark, lonely night we see a teenage boy, wearing a backpack, sitting next to a gas pump and studying under the outdoor lights overhead.

 

 “We don’t know what to do,” the boy says, his words translated into English. “We don’t have electricity at home. We have to go outside where the electricity is working. We study out here and then go back home.”

 

A handful more students turn the gas station into a library al fresco. One boy uses a trashcan as his desk and a girl speaks this cold truth: “I come from far away to study here. Sometimes I have to spend the night here. As a woman it can be dangerous to go back around 11 p.m. Sometimes were are forced to spend the night here because of the lack of electricity.”

 

One recent evening shortly after first seeing this video, I saw a girl of similar age reading a textbook at a local soccer practice. As dusk arrived she did not move to beneath a light at the restrooms or in the parking lot. There was no need; there will be illumination at home later. She pulled out a video game.

 

The kids in “Black Out” have no lamps, no desks, no chairs. They balance schoolbooks on their knees and on trashcans; they sit on curbs and on the ground.

 

Two minutes into the mini-documentary comes the most chilling, and yet the most inspiring, footage of all. Outside the international airport is a large parking lot. The lined spaces are empty of cars, but the lot is not at all vacant – the blacktop is filled with kids reading, doing math problems, studying.

 

            A boy in the parking lot explains the young human gridlock: “We all come here because we don’t want to fail our final exams.”

 

Jets arrive and depart, but the kids stay through the night.

 

Another boy with no electricity at home adds this: “My parents are a little bit worried. We are worried, too. We want a different future. That’s why we come here.”

 

They come by the hundreds. Beneath the glow of streetlights meant to prevent crime, crime is being prevented in the best way possible – with education for brighter futures.

 

“Black Out” then fades to black, but its message is enlightening. Every American kid who offers an excuse for not doing his or her homework should be forced to study in a supermarket parking lot for a week.

 

*

Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.

 

Column: Wooden and Friendship

by Woody

Wooden Made Friendship a Fine Art

 

Monday – October 14 – would have been John Wooden’s 103rd birthday. Below, excerpted from 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” (signed copies available at WoodyWoodburn.com and unsigned paperbacks at Amazon.com), is an example of how he walked his talk.

 

* * *

 

The next time I joined Coach John Wooden for a brisk morning walk, I did something I embarrassingly neglected to do in all my excitement the first time: I brought a gift of thanks for his hospitality.

 

Coach with two very happy young visitors in his home: my son Greg and daughter Dallas.

 

Coach thanked me for the book while insisting a gift was completely unnecessary. Shortly thereafter I received a handwritten thank-you note; included within was a postcard-sized printed poem authored by Wooden titled “On Friendship”:

 

At times when I am feeling low, / I hear from a friend and then

 

My worries start to go away / And I am on the mend

 

No matter what the doctors say – /And their studies never end

 

The best cure of all, when spirits fall, / Is a kind word from a friend

 

 

More prized than the signed poem is that over the ensuing years Coach would turn the words into deed when my spirits fell – particularly when my mom passed away in 1992 and when I was severely injured by a speeding drunk driver in 2003.

 

Even when my spirits were already high, Coach had a gift for raising them further. For example, when I next visited him he recited a poem from the Rumi volume I had given him. I must confess I did not know whom Coach was quoting until he told me. It was not surprising, however, that his selection was titled “Love” since Coach always insisted it was the most important word in the English language.

 

What a thoughtful and eloquent gesture, what rare grace. It was a simple reminder that saying “thank you” is nice, but to show thanks is far better. Write a note of thanks, certainly, but also wear a new sweater or necklace the next time you see the person who gave it to you; put a gift vase on proud display before the giver visits; memorize a poem or line from a book given to you. Time and again in ways big and small, Coach put into practice the fifth rule printed on his father’s seven-point creed: “Make friendship a fine art.”

 

One of Coach’s many exceptional qualities was how he made people feel special by giving each individual he was interacting with his undivided attention. For example, he was perhaps the slowest, and the most gracious, autograph-signer in history because he made a conscious effort to engage each fan in a brief conversation.

 

Similarly, Coach always gave his full attention on the phone and never seemed in a hurry to hang up. Indeed, if he was too busy to talk he would simply not answer the phone in the first place rather than risk the prospect of having to be in a rude rush.

 

I fondly remember visiting Coach when the phone rang and he let the call go through to his answering machine. The message conveyed was that I was his guest and thus merited his complete focus. This unspoken kindness became even greater seconds later after the “Beep!” when a very familiar voice could be heard leaving a message.

 

“That’s Bill Walton!” I said, excitedly. “You’d better answer it!”

 

Coach did not move towards the phone and instead replied with a devilish smile: “Heavens no! Bill calls me all the time. If I pick up he’ll talk my ear off for half an hour and then you and I won’t get to visit. I’ll talk with him later.”

 

*

 

Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.