Tag Archives: Rain

Friendships Reign in the Rain

by Woody

The harder the recent rains fell, the greater became the flood of phone calls and voicemails and text messages from friends, far and farther, asking how I was doing on account of our coastal paradise making the national news.

I bet you had friends do likewise—or maybe you were one.

The atmospheric river may have been Man Bites Dog worthy news, but friends checking in on friends is as common as Dog Wags Tail. And yet such acts of friendship, and family-ship too, are worth acknowledging—no, worth celebrating!—and not taking for granted.

A week ago in this space I chronicled how a Good Samaritan took 20 minutes out of her day, and drove quite a few miles out of her way, to personally deliver a package that had mistakenly landed in her mailbox.

If a kind stranger will go to such lengths, one can only imagine the distances our friends and loved ones will travel. I didn’t have to imagine the other day when, as the deluge hit full force, I received the following text from a relatively new friend, but already a dear one for some friendships are as fast and hearty as instant oatmeal, who lives in Northern California:

“Hey Pal, just checkin’ in to see if you’re ok. I’m just hearing and reading horrific stuff, and they start talking about Montecito, SB, and Ventura. I think the worst is over for us up here, but if there’s anything I can do, it’s only a four-hour drive. There’s nothing on my plate that can’t be postponed. Let me know. Stay dry, my friend – dj”

Only a four-hour drive! That, in a nutshell, is friendship, where distance and time are no obstacles. As Abdu’l-Bahá eloquently put it: “Where there is love, nothing is too much trouble, and there is always time.”

This quote often makes me think of my friend Scott and his now-grown son, Justin. A ballpark figure for how many youth baseball games Justin played in is 1,500, but father and son can both tell you the exact the number Scott missed: three—two of them because of emergency surgery.

Another sporting example of love being blind to trouble and always finding time is my longtime, and now long-distance, friend Randy who checked in on me from New York during the heavy rainstorm. In turn, I asked how his son Charlie’s tennis season at Merrimack College is going.

In a word, and befitting rising floodwaters, swimmingly! As a junior, Charlie is a team co-captain playing No. 1 doubles and No. 3 singles. And here’s the Abdu’l-Bahá-like best part of the update: Randy and his wife Debby, despite an eight-hour roundtrip drive to home matches, have attended 80 percent of them, plus most road contests too.

One final vignette of love and friendship, which are one and the same, ignoring distance. Not long ago, my college buddy Mikey was in Italy, in the coastal paradise of Sorrento, in a marketplace alleyway where he saw a man sitting with a typewriter. Knowing my affection for QWERTY machines, Mikey investigated, learned Paolo Grasso was a street poet for hire and requested one honoring my 20-year consecutive day running streak.

Titled “The Runner,” the custom creation is typed in Italian on one side, translated into English on the other, and is lovely. Even lovelier, however, is that Mikey thought of me some 6,000 miles away.

The poem includes this beautiful stanza: “This continuous running / towards a goal / makes the moment precious.”

Friends, shine or rain, make the moment precious as well.

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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.

Friend Turns Floodwaters Into Sunshine

by Woody

What a difference a day makes.

More accurately, what a difference a friend can make on a day. Such it was on recent back-to-back afternoons that for me were as polar as sunshine and flooding rain, figuratively and almost literally.

Let me begin with the rainstorm. My Much Better Half and I are having our kitchen and downstairs guest bathroom remodeled. “Don’t expect smooth sailing,” we were forewarned. This proved a portentous metaphor because returning from my daily run I opened the front door and found myself in need of a boat.

While I was out, a worker clogged and broke the toilet – a toilet that was not to be used for it was covered by protective plastic during painting – and it runneth over continuously for an hour or more. Floodwaters overtook the entryway, dining room, family room, and most of our primary bedroom. The tide even surged into the kitchen and garage.

With hardwood floors ruined, carpet too, my spirits the following day were soggy as well. When I went on a run that afternoon, for a rare time during my running Streak of 7,341 consecutive days, I felt like cutting my intended miles shorter. But then…

“Hi, Woody!” came a voice from behind my left ear, so close and loud and unexpected that I flinched. Because I was wearing earbuds, the greeter’s volume was purposely turned up to be heard. However, because of a dead battery I was not listening to music. As a result, I may have yelped as if startled by the sight of a slithering rattlesnake two strides ahead.

Instead, it was a friendly face that I have seen from time to time at Kimball Park. Brody, a handsome young man with sharp features and a soft smile, grew up in Ventura and is a recent graduate from UC Santa Barbara, my alma mater, where he was in the ROTC. I learned all this, and more, on previous occasions he joined me for a few miles when our running paths crossed.

This go-round-and-round around the soccer fields he updated me about his enlistment as an officer in the Army (the Irish meaning of Brody is “protector,” perfectly fitting for someone safeguarding our country); that he is now married; and is stationed in Texas, which he said has been so Hades-hot lately that this 80-degree Ventura day felt chilly to him.

And just like that, like morning dew under August sunshine, my soggy mood over “The Great Woodburn Flood of ’23” quickly evaporated. My heavy feet that felt like I was slogging through a muddy boot-camp obstacle course suddenly had Hermes-like wings on their ankles and the next two miles breezed by. Brody’s pace was surely slower than he wanted, mine a tad too fast, for isn’t friendship sometimes a compromise?

The last time I had seen Brody was in a rainstorm, the showers so steady that the park’s fields then coincidentally resembled my downstairs floors only 24 hours earlier. On that rainy day we had laughed as we splish-splashed along; this day now, I suddenly felt winsome and recalled a poem titled “On Friendship” by John Wooden:

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

Indeed, a kind word – better yet, a couple miles of friendly conversation – can turn rain into sunshine.

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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.

Column: Let It Rain

by Woody

Raindrops, Please Keep Fallin’ on Our Heads

Burt Bacharach composed all the right notes, but I think he got the lyrics wrong in his Oscar-winning Best Original Song “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” from the 1969 film “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

1-rainHe begins: “Raindrops keep falling on my head / And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed / Nothin’ seems to fit / Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling.”

Lamenting rain? Not in California where we need to consider swapping the grizzly bear on our state flag for a Sahara camel. The rain clouds earlier this week fit just fine, thank you.

More Bacharach: “So I just did me some talkin’ to the sun / And I said I didn’t like the way he got things done / Sleepin’ on the job / Those raindrops are falling on my, head they keep falling.”

Sleeping on the job? Our Southern California sun is more overworked than a UPS driver in December. If it weren’t for homeowners living in the dangerous shadows of burned foothill areas, I’d say let our sun sleep on the job like Rip Van Winkle.

The recent rains were a welcomed sight – and sound. There is nothing like falling to sleep with raindrops dancing on the roof. Mozart never sounded sweeter, if you ask me.

As for sights, watching children walking to school in bright raincoats and ponchos or carrying Disney-character umbrellas is the stuff of Norman Rockwell even in 2014. Better yet is to see school kids jumping in puddles and even though you can’t hear their laughter over the noise of your car’s wiper blades you can vicariously feel their joy.

Equally blissful is to be a grown-up acting like a child, stomping in puddles while out on a workout run. I know because I did just that while listening to raindrops falling on my head as a soundtrack instead of the usual playlist on my iPod. Afterwards, I peeled off about 20 pounds of soaked clothes and shoes in the laundry room, all the while feeling like I was 7-years-old again and coming inside from a wet and wonderful day sledding in Ohio.

After a couple of these sloppy runs it was a letdown to have the sun quit sleepin’ on the job.

Bacharach continued: “But there’s one thing I know / The blues he sends to meet me won’t defeat me / It won’t be long ’till happiness steps up to greet me / Raindrops keep falling on my head.”

Here’s one thing I know – rain doesn’t give me the blues. Heck, I even saw a man whose backyard resembled Pompeii after Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD, interviewed on the TV news the other night saying that we need the rain and the mudslide won’t defeat him.

The scattered property damages, injuries and traffic problems aside, rain greets us with happiness. The happiness of a couple walking hand-in-hand on the beach promenade; anglers fishing off the pier; surfers doing rain dances on their boards.

Bacharach’s closing verse: “But that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turnin’ red / Crying’s not for me / ’Cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complainin’ / Because I’m free / Nothing’s worrying me.”

Rain makes me feel like rejoicing, not crying. And I’m far from alone because in the past couple years I can’t remember any Californians complainin’ about rain. To the contrary, conversations and Facebook posts and Twitter tweets celebrate precipitation.

The drought is what worries us. Raindrops make us feel free. We embrace our fresh-scrubbed world because we know the sun will start gettin’ things done soon enough. It’s the storm clouds we need to do some talkin’ to.

When the raindrops keep fallin’ on my head, I feel like singin’. I think Gene Kelly’s character in the 1952 Hollywood musical “Singin’ in the Rain” got it right: “I’m singing in the rain / Just singing in the rain / What a glorious feelin’ / I’m happy again.”

Glorious, indeed. As Eric Clapton sings, “Let It Rain.” Again, soon.

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Wooden&Me_cover_PRWoody 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”