Monthly Archives: August 2014

Column: What’s in a Name?

by Woody

Mike, Bob, Imogen, Mo’ne and more

No rhyme or reason, just odds and ends . . .

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As a Luddite who continues to embrace e-books as I would a bouquet of poison oak, I love what my friend Drew Daywalt, author of the mega-award-winning-best-seller children’s book “The Day the Crayons Quit,” said in an interview with thecaliforniamom.com:

crayons.png AM“As for books, I think they’ll always be necessary as long as humans are curious, even though their form might change over the ages – our current trend obviously being toward e-books.

“One thing I can say about my own kids is that they like picture books in traditional paper form. Even though they love the iPad for its games and videos and interactive qualities, they still prefer good old-fashioned paper and page turning for reading.

“I’m not sure what it is, but if they’re anything like me, they get that rush from the tactile sense of a real book; the feel of the paper, the rustle of the pages, the smell of the ink, the reveal that comes from the turn of the page.

“And even though books are competing with other new media, I don’t think the form is in trouble, even if the format may be. Theater didn’t kill books, radio didn’t kill theater, TV didn’t kill radio and the Internet didn’t kill TV, music or books. Things are changing, but the fundamentals will always remain.”

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Here’s hoping the Internet doesn’t kill newspapers.

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In a terrific “Life in Pictures” profile this week in New York Magazine, I like how the humor of 36-year-old identical twins Mike and Bob Bryan – currently gunning for their 100th career doubles title at the U.S. Open – came through, such as:

Mike: “Bob would say he is the better driver. We shared a Mercedes and I totaled it.

Bob: “I am the better driver.”

And Bob again: “We have to warm up our bodies a little more than we used to. A couple of years ago, I went gluten-free, like Mike. But after we won a tournament, I had a huge waffle.”

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If you are reading this while waiting for a fetal ultrasound, here are the most popular baby names of 2014 (so far) from the website Nameberry.com:

Girls – Imogen, Charlotte, Isla, Cora, Penelope, Violet, Amelia, Eleanor, Harper and Claire.

Reaction XX: Oh-em-gee! Imogen is No. 1? Who knew so many young parents were such big fans of Shakespeare’s play “Cymbeline” and specifically the king’s daughter?

Boys – Asher, Declan, Atticus, Finn, Oliver, Henry, Silas, Jasper, Milo, and Jude.

Reaction XY: It’s nice to see literature playing a role here, too, with “To Kill a Mockingbird” (Atticus), “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” and, of course, “The Vampire Diaries” (Silas).

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There are some people (pronounced “fuddy-duddys”) who scoff at today’s trending baby names and miss the old days of Robert, David, Jennifer and Mary.

I just wish today’s kids, by any name, were not 10 percent less healthy and fit – according to a new study from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention – than they were just 10 years ago.

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On the topic of children, the Ventura County Human Services Agency is hiring 36 additional social workers in the next few months to keep up with the growth in child abuse complaints.

The historic local expansion should be applauded, although far better news would be if the agency could make record layoffs due to a lack of child abuse cases.

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Add kids’ names. I predict a new challenger to overtake Imogen: Mo’ne.

Mo’ne Davis is the charismatic, hard-throwing 13-year-old GIRL wunderkind pitcher from Philadelphia who has graced the cover of Sports Illustrated for not only pitching a shutout in the Little League World Series but for striking out gender stereotypes.

Heck, Mo’ne might overtake Atticus, Silas and Finn, too.

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One mo’re name. The NFL fined Cleveland Browns rookie quarterback Johnny Manziel $12,000 for flipping off the Washington Redskins’ bench during a preseason game.

It is just the latest punk move by the Heisman Trophy winner whose nickname should be changed from “Johnny Football” to “Football’s Justin Bieber.”

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

Wooden-&-Me-cover-mock-upCheck 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: Amazing Grace (and Duane)

by Woody

A Fast Friendship Out of the Blue

KaBOOM! KaBOOM! KaBOOM!

The racket sounded like a judge frantically trying to restore order in his courtroom.

Instead of a gavel, however, this ruckus was the pounding of 11 small, wooden mallets upon two tabletops. Specifically, two dining tables covered with butcher paper taped down at the corners.

A bushel of Maryland Blue Crabs seasoned by the gods!

A full bushel of steaming Maryland Blue Crabs seasoned by the gods!

And the butcher paper was covered with mountainous piles of Callinectes sapidus: Maryland Blue Crabs, fresh from the Chesapeake Bay.

There are a handful of meals over one’s lifetime that stand out above all others and this dinner two weeks past makes my honor roll. Beyond the delicious food, this was due to the fine company. Oh, and the messy fun that made me feel like a kindergartener in need of an art smock.

Indeed, when I arrived my hosts, the aptly named Grace and her husband Duane, apologized for not warning me to wear an old shirt.

Since I was a blue crab virgin, Grace’s father, Ray, gave me a cracking tutorial. He began by showing me how to locate the crab’s apron – a male’s looks like the nearby Washington Monument while the female’s resembles the Capitol dome – and then breaking it off.

Ray lost me somewhere between removing the top shell and cleaning the gills, but I latched onto the most important step: Pound the crab with the mallet and then pick out and eat the sweet meat.

What I lacked in skill, I made up for with enthusiasm. Half-a-dozen crabs into the feast, I needed a clean shirt; after dozen, a shower; still I kept going.

This was Thanksgiving in August. Instead of an oversized turkey, Grace served up a full bushel of steaming blue crabs seasoned by the gods. Half as many would have been a challenge to finish, but the 11 of us did our mighty best.

“You learn a lot about someone when you share a meal together,” Anthony Bourdain, chef and TV personality, has said.

I learned that Ray was in the CIA during the Cold War and I learned much of Grace’s charm comes from her mother, Anne.

I learned that in just about any endeavor, Duane would be my top draft pick. A Southern California beach boy, he was a discus thrower on scholarship in college and now does triathlons; he is a masterful furniture maker and also built entirely by himself their gorgeous house that merits being featured in Better Homes and Gardens.

Duane and Grace with Greg and me.

Duane and Grace with Greg and me.

Too, he is an involved dad of two terrific teenage sons; a wonderful storyteller; modest as a monk; and generous beyond belief.

Actually, the last thing I already knew about Duane and Grace. You see, when my son accepted a 10-week summer internship in Washington, D.C., with KaBOOM!, a national non-profit dedicated to promoting active play for kids, he needed a place to stay.

I have a dear Venturan friend who grew up in Virginia and I asked him for recommendations where to look for housing. Ken in turn emailed a childhood friend for suggestions; Grace instantly phoned back saying they would take the stranger in.

“Who does that?” my wife, a remarkably kind person herself, said in happy wonderment, her sleepless nights of worrying where our son would stay now cured.

Amazing Grace, Duane, Robbie and Scott, and charismatic collie-mix Hobie, made Greg feel so welcome that when I showed up for the crab feast only I was a visitor. Instead of a lonely rented room, Greg came home each night to a family. If he was running late, they held dinner. If he needed a ride, they drove him or gave him the car keys. When they went to parties and barbecues, Greg was included.

“We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed,” Ray Bradbury wrote. “As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there is at last one which makes the heart run over.”

Grace and Duane proved Bradbury wrong, for they filled the vessel to overflowing even more quickly than 11 hungry souls emptied a bushel of delicious Maryland Blue Crabs.

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

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck 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: Cosby to ‘Mork’

by Woody

Cosby, Carlin, ‘Crazy Guy’ and Mork

Bill Cosby was the first comedian I fell on the floor for. In fact, the first LP – that’s what we called long play albums back in the ’60s when I started out as a child – I owned was not by the Beatles or The Beach Boys, but rather Cosby’s “I Started Out as a Child.”1-coz

I remember in third grade our assignment was to recite a poem or short story from memory: I performed “The Water Bottle” off that album to great laughs.

In turn I listened endlessly to Cosby’s ensuing LPs “Why Is There Air”, “Wonderfulness”, “Revenge” and “To Russell, My Brother, Whom I Slept With” which hit home because I had two brothers.

The next stand-up comedians who could make Nestles Quick shoot out my nose were George Carlin and Steve Martin. I’m not sure if my older brothers ever actually listened to Martin’s “Let’s Get Small”, “A Wild And Crazy Guy” and “Comedy Is Not Pretty!” albums, but they heard me mimic the routines.

I even went to a Carlin performance at UC Santa Barbara in the late 1970s wearing an arrow fashioned as though it had been shot through my head – one of Martin’s trademark props.

Sitting a few rows from the stage with my similarly arrow-headed friend Brian Whalen, Carlin spotted us, stopped in mid-joke, and adlibbed, “You guys are at the wrong concert.”

And then along came Robin Williams. He was so hilarious that a number of freshmen in my dorm, myself included, sometimes wore rainbow suspenders like his alien character in “Mork & Mindy.”1-mork

Williams just got funnier and funnier. And while he never replaced my first comedy crush, Cosby, he may have given me more total laughs simply because he could squeeze 30 minutes of punch lines into three frenetic minutes. Remarkably, Williams’ serious work might have surpassed his funny stuff.

Williams tragically succumbed to the demons of depression Monday, his death at age 63 leaving fans with figurative arrows through the heart. Here are some of his – and his film characters’ – words from the heart . . .

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“You know what music is? God’s little reminder that there’s something else besides us in this universe; harmonic connection between all living beings, everywhere, even the stars.” – Robin Williams

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“No matter what people tell you, words and ideas can change the world.” – Robin Williams as John Keating in “Dead Poets Society”

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“(If) I’d ask you about love, you’d probably quote me a sonnet. But you’ve never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be her angel, to have that love for her.” – Robin Williams’ character Dr. Sean Maguire in “Good Will Hunting”

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“Listen, you hear it? Carpe. Hear it? ITAL(whispering)ENDITAL Carpe. Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.” – again as John Keating

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Now, more happily, I would like to share some wisdom from a different Williams – Marcella, my daughter’s former fourth-grade teacher and now a family friend, who upon celebrating her birthday this week shared some “What I Know Today” thoughts:

“Tend to the pieces and parts. The whole will take care of itself in good time.

“Make time to do the stuff you like to do and figure out what those things are.

“Be sure you aren’t good at everything you do. If you are then you’re probably not doing much. Don’t get stale. Learning is essential.

“Know the difference between a situation and a crisis. Either way, things can always at least feel a little better with a snack, a sweater and a nap.

“Endings herald beginnings and a little creative destruction now and then clears the decks for a solid foundation to build anew.

“Know the difference between building a resume and a eulogy. Do both. Be responsible for good work and a good life.

“Be brave. Live big. Love more.”

Carpe diem.

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Wooden-&-Me-cover-mock-upWoody 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: An Unknown Hero

by Woody

Wooden & Me Kickstarter Front PhotoWOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” can be purchased here at Amazon

 

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An Unknown Hero Among Heroes

For the first five days of August, I was in the august company of heroes in our nation’s capital.

Heroes like astronauts John Glenn and Neil Armstrong and earlier fliers like Charles Lindbergh and the Wright Brothers, all in the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum.1-arlington

Men and women, heroes, interred in Arlington National Cemetery, a heartbreaking landscape that is ironically beautiful.

My tour of heroes included monuments for those who served in World Wars I and II; the Korean War Memorial; and the Vietnam Memorial Wall.

In the National Archives I peered at Founding heroes like Benjamin Franklin and John Hancock’s faded “John Hancocks” on the original Declaration of Independence.

And, of course, there are the marble heroes in the National Mall: George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, Franklin D. Roosevelt and Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yet the hero who arguably engraved the deepest impression on me was one I encountered shortly after my late-night arrival at Ronald Reagan National Airport when I boarded the Metro Blue Line to my downtown D.C. hotel.

The first few minutes of the ride were quiet, sans the pleasant rhythmic sounds of the train itself, when suddenly came clamor.

A passenger facing me two rows ahead in the near-empty train car – a tall, sinewy man in his 20s, his bare arms covered with long sleeves of tattoos, his electrocuted blond hair making Einstein’s look tame – jumped from his seat like a jack-in-the-box. He shouted at a goateed man, about the same age as he although shorter and stockier, sitting across the aisle.

Apparently the goateed man had “disrespected” the mangy tattooed man’s dog. In a flash the two men were nose-to-nose although only the tattooed man spoke – or rather, shouted. He cursed at the goateed man; challenged his manhood; unleashed racial taunts. Exclamation marks punctuated his torrent.

At any second I expected weapons to come out and I don’t think I was alone; a young woman facing me across the aisle looked absolutely petrified. As the vile racial epithets from the crazed tattooed man intensified, I signaled with my eyes that she – we – should sneak out the door at the next stop.1-metro

Just then, THUMP! The goateed man unloaded a punch. And another and a third. Frankly, Gandhi might not have blamed him at this point. Meanwhile, the tattooed man’s large dog remarkably remained nonviolent.

In slow motion this is what I next witnessed: a baldheaded man with his back to the fray bolted from his seat and in one fluid motion spun 180 degrees into the aisle, took three lightening-quick strides and grabbed the goateed man from behind before he could throw a fourth punch. Breaking apart two pit bulls would have required less courage.

It was as if Batman was aboard.

Sitting beside his gray-haired wife, the baldheaded man had been as unimposing as Bruce Wayne: he was wearing peach slacks and a white sweater and appeared old enough to receive Social Security.

Once he rose, however, the Teddy bear came into focus like a grizzly. If not a former NFL linebacker, my guess is he was once an Army sergeant or perhaps a retired police officer for he exuded the authority of both.

After getting between the combatants who were now both screaming bloodily at each other, the baldheaded man barked commands: “Knock it off! Now! Get out of here! Now! Before you get arrested!”

All the while the baldheaded man strode forward slowly and wide-footed, a heavyweight boxer backing up a foe, herding the goateed man towards the exit door as a German Shepherd would direct a sheep.

At the next stop the goateed man and tattooed man both got off; the baldheaded man returned to his gray-haired wife’s side; and the rest of us in the train car breathed easier.

When my stop came, I used the exit door furthest from me but nearer the baldheaded man.

“Thanks,” I said, shaking his hand. “You’re a hero.”

He smiled humbly, but appreciatively, and almost as widely as did his wife.

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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: Annoyned and Happy

by Woody

Mood Swings Like a Pendulum

If you were expecting 700 words of happy and nice this morning, phone your grandma. I’m in a “Look At That Idiot Wasting Precious Water During Our Drought By Watering His Sidewalk And Driveway” kind of mood.

I’m starting to love brown grass.

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I get annoyed when I see someone toss litter out a car window.

I love seeing Good Samaritans picking up litter that isn’t theirs.

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I get annoyed by the Ventura County Fair’s crushing crowds, late-night noise, parking hassles and impossible-to-win carnival games.

I love the Ventura County Fair’s happy crowds, late-night music, convenient shuttles and carnival games that I am going to win at this year!

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I get annoyed when I call a customer service line and have to wait so long my ear gets irritated by the phone receiver.

I love it when I get a customer service rep who is friendly and helpful and we even ask each other where we are located and how’s the weather.

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I get annoyed when Tiger Woods is in the newspaper headlines and TV promos when he is not even in the hunt.

I love it that golfers call infractions on themselves.

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I get annoyed by failed role models in the world of sports.

I love that Mike and Bob Bryan, the all-time winningest doubles team in history, continue to be even greater champions off the court. For example, by raising more than $100,000 at their recent V-Grid Tennis Fest to benefit local junior tennis programs and other deserving youth groups.

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I get annoyed when half the sesame seeds on my bagel fall off and make a mess.

I love it when a frozen yogurt has a mess of toppings.

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            I get annoyed because Clayton Kershaw’s pitching gems haven’t been televised here in the Southland due to network disputes.

I love that Vin Scully has decided to return to the Dodgers’ broadcast booth next year for his 66th season.

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I get annoyed when exiting the parking lot at a big-venue concert seems to take longer than the concert lasted.

I love the ease of attending the local “ROCK The Collection Summer Concert Series” on Saturdays at Riverpark.

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I get annoyed when a quick service restaurant meal for eating on the premises, not take-out, still comes wrapped in two pounds of aluminum foil, paper, cardboard AND a paper bag – a lot of waste for 30 seconds of use.

I love it when I remember to take reusable bags to the grocery.

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I get annoyed when I don’t take someone’s wise advice.

I love it when I do.

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I get annoyed when I try to buy tickets on-line for the Ventura Rubicon Theater because its website is so glacier slow it seems faster to drive to the box office and buy them in person.

I love seeing plays at the Rubicon Theater.

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I get annoyed when people don’t clean up their dog’s mess.

I would love an ordinance that requires the people who don’t clean up their dog’s mess to clean up the mess from the rest of our shoes.

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I get annoyed when my Facebook news feed posts “new” items that are a couple days old. More than once I have gone to a food truck or local live music performance because of a “new” post only to discover the truck or musician was actually on site yesterday.

I love local food trucks and local live music.

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I get annoyed after I let a salesclerk up-sell me.

I love it when a salesclerk steers me in the right direction.

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I get annoyed when I don’t have my reading glasses and my arms aren’t long enough to compensate.

I love it when a restaurant has I-Forgot-My-Readers-Friendly Print Size in its menu.

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I’m no longer annoyed by how quickly my car gets dirty because I feel like a good citizen by not washing it.

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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”