Tag Archives: UCLA

Mourning On A Gloomy Morning

by Woody

My favorite Wooden-ism, as I call John Wooden’s maxims, is “Make each day your masterpiece.”

This past Tuesday never had a chance to be a masterpiece. It was a canvas painted with ugly graffiti; a day where the Southern California sunshine seemed gloomy; a masterpiece ruined because Nan Wooden, the late legendary coach’s daughter, passed away in the morning at age 87 of natural causes.

The news squeezed my heart so hard it felt bruised and brought me to tears. Losing a friend is never easy, even one you have never met. Indeed, all the times I visited Coach in his home during our two-decade friendship, Nan never happened to be present.

That is not entirely accurate. Her presence was always felt through photos on display and our conversations.

Coach John Wooden and daughter Nan at at UCLA basketball game.

When my daughter Dallas was born – coincidentally, and sentimentally for Coach, her due date was his and Nell’s wedding anniversary – he shared how over-the-moon he had been when Nan was born and that I was likewise sure to be wrapped around my own little girl’s finger.

Two years later when my son arrived, Coach pointed out that we had both been blessed with “one of each” and in the same order. After that, I always paired Nan with Dallas, his Jim with my Greg, and I think Coach did likewise.

When Coach passed away a decade ago, I sent Nan a condolence card care of her father’s address. In the months, and even years, to follow I wish I had made a greater effort to reach out through others to set up a visit.

Among many things I would have loved to ask her was something I should have asked her “Daddy” as she called him even in her old age: Did he ever put notes with Wooden-ism – Daddy-isms to her! – in her school lunches?

I would have shared with Nan how I had made a daily habit of writing notes such as “Have a great day!” or “Good luck on your spelling test!” or “I miss you lots!” on paper napkins and putting them inside Dallas’s Little Mermaid lunchbox and Greg’s Power Rangers lunchbox.

Then, after I took them to meet her Daddy one unforgettable afternoon when they were 10 and nearly 8, I started adding his pearls of wisdom such as “Be quick, but don’t hurry” (a great reminder before a spelling test) and “Happiness begins where selfishness ends” and “Little things make big things happen” and dozens more.

Coach’s Seven-Point Creed, one line at a time, became a frequent go-to napkin jotting: “Be true to yourself. Make each day your masterpiece. Help others. Drink deeply from good books. Make friendship a fine art. Build shelter against a rainy day. Pray for guidance and give thanks for your blessings every day.”

We would discuss Wooden-isms at the dinner table and also talked about Coach’s “Pyramid of Success” and his personal definition of success: “Success is peace of mind which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you did your best to become the best you are capable of becoming.”

Today, Dallas is already teaching Wooden-isms to her nearly 3-year-old daughter Maya and Greg frequently texts Wooden’s gems to me! I think Nan would have enjoyed hearing all this.

About losing Nell, Coach wrote to me once: “I no longer have any fear of death as that is my only chance, if He will forgive me of my sins, to be with her again.”

Maybe last Tuesday was a masterpiece day after all, in Heaven, with Coach, Nell and Nan smiling at their reunion.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

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

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.

 

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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.”

 

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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.