Monthly Archives: November 2014

Column: Holiday Ball Drive

by Woody

 ‘Holiday Ball Drive’ is kids’ stuff

Editorials are generally as disposable as the newsprint on which they are printed, and yet one that appeared in The New York Sun in 1897 might as well have been carved in granite because it remains relevant and favored well over a century later.

BallDriveHeadlined “Is There a Santa Claus” it began with a letter from young Virginia O’Hanlon:

“Dear Editor –

“I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, ‘If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.’ Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?”

The Sun’s reply included the now famous line, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus,” and continued: “He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence.”

Indeed, how dreary would the world be with no Virginias – and, alas! no Briannas, Sarahs, Mitches and Myas.

In the spirit of love and generosity, “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive” officially kicks off its annual efforts today to bring a small measure of joy into the lives of disadvantaged children.

The seed for this endeavor was planted about 20 years ago at a youth basketball clinic when former Ventura College and NBA star Cedric Ceballos awarded autographed basketballs to handful of lucky attendees.

Leaving the gym afterward, I happened upon a 10-year-old boy who had won one of the prized keepsakes – which he was dribbling on the rough blacktop outdoor court and shooting baskets with while perhaps imagining he was Ceballos.

Meanwhile, the real Ceballos’ Sharpie signature was wearing off.

Curious why he hadn’t carefully taken the trophy basketball home to put safely on a bookshelf, I interrupted his playing to ask.

“I’ve never had my own basketball,” the boy answered matter-of-factly between shots.

1ballsAt Christmastime, visions of that boy – and other boys and girls like him, who don’t have their own basketball to shoot or soccer ball to kick or football to throw – danced through my head. So I asked you dear readers to help make the holidays happier by dropping off a new sports ball (no batteries required) at a local Boys & Girls Club, YMCA, youth recreation center, fire department, Special Olympics chapter or house of worship. The organization’s leaders will see that the gifts wind up in deserving young hands.

Over the years you have responded like MVPs – Most Valuable Philanthropists – and I am once again asking you to deck the halls with sports balls. If you participate, please email me at woodywriter@gmail.com so I can add your generosity to this year’s tally.

It is not only kids who receive the gift balls, some of the most inspiring donors have been kids, too.

Kids like 10-year-old Sarah and 8-year-old Mitch who emptied their “Jar” of chore money to buy a soccer ball and football to donate.

Kids like 12-year-old Mya who used babysitting money to buy seven soccer balls.

Kids have used their birthday money to buy gift balls and one boy asked his grandparents for a new football – and could he please have it a week early so as to have time to donate it to someone who otherwise wouldn’t get a Christmas present?

Kids like 9-year-old Brianna, who wrote me: “I saw your wish list in the newspaper and I wanted to help. I know how important it is to help others. So this year I saved money by collecting recyclables. So I was able to give: 5 basketballs, 2 footballs, 2 soccer balls, 1 volleyball, 1 bag of baseballs, 1 bag of softballs. I hope this helps.”

What The Sun declared more than a century ago it says here today in The Star: Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and kids like Brianna, Sarah, Mitch, Mya and other amazing kids like them exist.

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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”

Column: Remarkable Rosetta Feat

by Woody

If We Can Land a Probe on a Comet . . .

Once upon a time, when a machine failed or a product disappointed, the common refrain was: “Geez, if we can land a man on the moon why can’t we . . .”

Well, times have changed. The spacecraft Rosetta, which NASA and the European Space Agency launched a decade ago, successfully rendezvoused with a comet last week.

Rosetta's probe Philae landed on a comet 300 million miles from Earth.

Rosetta’s probe Philae landed on a comet 300 million miles from Earth.

Specifically, Rosetta circled our galaxy a few times with two flybys around Earth and one slingshot pass around Mars in order to use their gravitation pull to gain speed before taking off in chase of a frozen lump of ice and interplanetary dust measuring a mere 2.5-miles in length – which is almost shorter than its official name: 67/PChuryumov-Gerasimenko.

Moreover, 67/PC-G is 300 million miles away from Earth and hurtling through space at a speed of 34,000 miles per hour! By comparison, the average bullet goes a pedestrian 1,700 mph.

After its 10-year journey that covered a total of 3.97 billion-with-a-B miles, Rosetta dropped a probe named Philae aimed at the comet. Philae bounced twice before coming to rest on the target. It was a more challenging feat than teeing off a golf ball at Pebble Beach and making a hole-in-one on the moon.

In addition to sending back photos and scientific data, the mission has also accomplished something else: the phrase, “If we can land a man on the moon . . .” is now as quaint as a rotary phone.

Henceforth, when a product falls short of expectations or a machine falters badly, our complaint should begin: “Geez, if we can land a spacecraft on a comet speeding 20 times faster than a bullet some 300 million miles away, why can’t we . . .”

. . . train ourselves to take reusable bags to stores instead of wasting so much energy fighting over whether plastic bags are a constitutional right or a terrorist plot?

. . . find a cure for the common cold?

. . . create a vaccine, and quickly, for Ebola?

. . . invent a TV remote that my much-better-half cannot accidentally, and routinely, disarm the satellite dish receiver with?

. . . design a microwave oven that isn’t so befuddling to me that I wind up defrosting popcorn and popping frozen bagels?

. . . make newsprint that prevents the ink from coming off on the reader’s hands?

. . . build a home smoke alarm in which replacing the battery isn’t more difficult than solving Rubik’s Cube while balancing on a wobbly ladder?

. . . eradicate spam email and physical junk mail off the face of the Earth?

. . . eradicate concussions and permanent brain injuries from football?

. . . invent a Star Trek-like force shield for automobiles that repulses shopping carts and other car’s opening doors?

. . . re-invent airliner coach seating with knee room for anyone taller than a kindergartener?

. . . invent a method for deboarding a jetliner, after it reaches the arrival gate, with minimal chaos in less time than the flight itself takes?

. . . create a vaccine for rudeness?

. . . discover technology for plastic surgery that doesn’t scream on the patient’s face afterwards: I HAD WORK DONE!

. . . invent turn signals that automatically shut off after a driver has changed lanes and left it blinking for a full mile?

. . . put a woman (democrat or republican) in the Oval Office?

. . . design a pill that dogs like to take instead of having to be wrestled with like alligators until they finally choke the medicine down?

. . . design an easy-to-take pill that makes all breeds of dogs and cats stop shedding all over the furniture, floors and clothes?

. . . decide one way or the other on Daylight Saving Time year-round or not at all and quit this Spring Forward, Fall Back nonsense?

. . . build a transcontinental pipeline to move snow (melted) from the north east to Southern California?

. . . develop a way to pre-empt large earthquakes by dividing them up into orchestrated small shakes?

. . . create a vaccine for procrastination? (Scientists probably plan to work on that later.)

And lastly, “Geez, if we can land a spacecraft on a comet speeding 20 times faster than a bullet 300 million miles away, why can’t we . . . put a man back on the moon – or at least launch American astronauts into space on our own NASA rockets?

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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”

Column: Tomb of Unknown Soldier

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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Honoring Unknowns Not Enough

When it comes to the greatest streaks ever, Joe DiMaggio’s 56 consecutive games with a hit in 1941 and Cal Ripken’s “Ironman” run of playing in 2,632 consecutive games come quickly to mind.

For team efforts, the Los Angeles Lakers winning 33 consecutive games during the 1971-72 season and the UCLA Bruins’ 88 victories in row from 1971-1974 stand out.

1-tombBut a far more amazing streak has taken place outside the sports arena. It is a streak that truly matters. A streak of 77 consecutive years. And counting.

Beginning at midnight July 2, 1937, The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery has been guarded continuously, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year – 366 days during Leap Years – by Sentinels of the elite Third United States Infantry Regiment “Old Guard.”

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night has stayed them from their appointed duty. When destructive Hurricane Isabel struck in 2003 orders were actually sent to the Sentinels to seek shelter for personal safety, but they disobeyed the command and the streak remained unbroken.

The original Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is a white marble sarcophagus unveiled on Nov. 11, 1921 with the remains of a World War I hero. Because three flat white marble graves with the interments of unknown soldiers from World War II, Korea and Vietnam have since been added, it is often now called the Tomb of the Unknowns.

Inscribed on the raised tomb are the words: “Here Rests In Honored Glory An American Soldier Known But To God.” After DNA testing in 1998 identified the “Vietnam Unknown,” its crypt was changed to “Honoring And Keeping Faith With America’s Missing Servicemen.”

Watching the ritual in person is haunting and heartwarming, both. The on-duty Sentinel marches, almost in slow-motion, 21 steps south in front of the Tomb; crisply turns and faces east towards the Tomb for 21 seconds; turns again to face north and executes a sharp “shoulder-arms” movement switching his or her rifle to the outside shoulder away from the tomb; waits another 21 seconds before marching 21 steps back as the process begins anew in the other direction.

The 21 steps and 21-second pauses symbolize the 21-gun salute, which is the highest of military honors.

Every 30 minutes during summer, and every hour in winter, an elaborate  “Changing of the Guard” ceremony takes place. Visitors are asked to stand and remain silent. In truth, at all times there seems to be a hush of reverence by those in attendance.

The pomp and circumstance continues even at nighttime when the cemetery is closed to visitors because in truth it is not performed for show for the spectators, it is all done as a show of honor for all unaccounted American combat soldiers.

The Tomb of the Unknowns came to my mind this Veteran’s Day as flags flew across Ventura County and the nation. The Sentinels’ nonstop dedication to their sacred mission made me wish we would all show our respect and gratitude to veterans 365 days a year instead of largely only on a handful of days including Veterans Day and Memorial Day and anniversaries such as Dec. 7 and Sept. 11.

Furthermore, it seems an added tragedy that we give more attention to deceased warriors at the Tomb of the Unknowns than we give our living soldiers who come home from battle only to often face a new battle trying to get healthcare through the Veterans Affairs Department.

Granted, restructuring is underway under new VA Secretary Robert McDonald, but this is expected to take a year at the least. With an estimated 22 veterans committing suicide daily we should be attacking this problem with the urgency – and funding – as though it were a terrorist attack on American soil.

John Steinbeck writes in “East of Eden”: “I’ll have you know that a soldier is the most holy of all humans because he is the most tested – most tested of all.”

That test should end when his or her active duty ends. It’s time to start a streak of better honoring and keeping the faith with our known soldiers.

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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: Irish laughs and wisdom

by Woody

By Popular Request, Irish Leftovers

A number of readers kindly said they enjoyed my recent four-column series on my Ireland travels and asked if I might have more stories to share.

In response, here are some Irish sayings I saw in various pubs and on headstones, all bookended between two tales told to me by cabbies.

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1guinnessAn Irishman pops into a Dublin pub one evening and orders three pints of Guinness. When the bartender brings them the Irishman carefully lines them up and proceeds to take a sip from each glass, one after another, over and over, until all three are empty.

He orders three more pints, prompting the bartender to ask: “Suit ye’self, but mightn’t you rather I bring ’em one at a time so they’re cold and fresh?”

“No, no,” the Irishman replies. “I’m preferrin’ ye bring ’em three at a time. Ye see, me and me two brothers used to meet up and have a good time drinking together. But now one’s in Canada and the other’s in America so we drink in each other’s honor this way once a week.”

“That’s a brilliant tradition,” says the bartender, bringing three more pints on the house.

Months pass and the Irishman becomes well known in the pub for his honorary quirk. One day, however, he orders only two pints.

A somber hush falls over the pub. Setting two beers before the man, the bartender offers his sincere condolences.

For a moment the Irishman is confused but then realizes the mistake and laughs: “No, no, one of me brothers ain’t dead. It’s just that my missus has made ME give up drinking.”

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“May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past.”

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“No man ever wore a scarf as warm as his daughter’s arm around his neck.”

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1irishsaying“May the road rise to meet you.

“May the wind be always at your back.

“May the sun shine warm upon your face.

“And rains fall soft upon your fields.

“And until we meet again,

“May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.”

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“Always remember to forget, the troubles that passed away.

“But never forget to remember, the blessings that come each day.”

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“May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night, and a smooth road all the way to your door.”

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“There are good ships, and there are wood ships, the ships that sail the sea.

“But the best ships, are friendships, and may they always be.”

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“May misfortune follow you the rest of your life, and never catch up.”

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1glassguinnessAn Irish farmer walks three miles into town on a Friday night after a long week in the fields and orders a pint of Guinness. The pub is unusually quiet so he decides to liven things up, announcing to all: “I bet 100 pounds that no one here can drink 15 pints in 15 minutes.”

A man in the far corner seems angered by the broken silence and abruptly leaves. No one steps forward to accept the challenge.

About 20 minutes later the insulted man returns, strides up to the bar and slaps down a 100-pound bill: “I’m in!”

“Fifteen Guinness and line ’em up!” orders the farmer, excitedly. When the glasses are ready he takes out his pocket watch and the contest begins.

The farmer calls out each passing minute and like clockwork the challenger downs a pint every 60 seconds. After 10 minutes he has finished 10 pints, but his pace is slowing.

With the call of “Fourteen minutes!” there remain two full pints.

Just as the bet seems lost, however, the challenger theatrically raises a glass in each hand and triumphantly chugs them one after the other with 15 seconds to spare.

“Congratulations!” says the farmer, handing over 100 pounds. “But I do have one question – where did you storm off to before you came back.”

Came the answer: “One hundred pounds is a lot of money, ye know, so I went to the pub across the street to make sure I could do it.”

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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”

Column: Three Deadly Syllables

by Woody

Updated Henny Penny Warning

Instead of racing around warning everyone “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!” in a 2014 revision of the tale “Chicken Little,” Penny Henny would be shouting, “Ebola! Ebola!”

To be sure, E-bol-a is a frightening collection of three syllables. However, the sky-is-falling panic in the United States seems a little Chicken Little-ish.

1drinkIn reaction to four cases and one death in America (two of the infections originated here, one in Liberia, one in Guinea) we are moving heaven and earth – and moving healthcare workers/heroes with no symptoms into forced quarantine.

So can you imagine the hysteria if the Ebola outbreak in the U.S. numbered 1,553 reported cases and 926 deaths as in Guinea this year through October 23?

What if Ebola were as epidemic here as in Sierra Leone with 3,896 cases and 1,281 deaths or Liberia’s ground zero with 4,665 cases and 2,705 deaths?

Combined, these three West African hot zones total 4,912 deaths in 2014. That is no small and tragic number, but if Ebola claimed more than twice that many American lives we would unleash unlimited resources in an all-out sortie.

And yet year after year we allow an even deadlier three-syllable collection – drunk driv-ing – to wreck havoc by claiming more than 10,000 lives annually with far too little outcry and fight.

According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration’s latest figures, 10,322 people died in drunk-driving related traffic crashes in 2012 in the United States accounting for 31 percent of all traffic deaths.

Additionally, someone is injured in a drunk-driving crash every two minutes – in less time than it will take you to read this column.

Someone like Anthony Pedeferri, a California Highway Patrol officer from Camarillo who at age 36 was paralyzed from the chest down a few years ago when a drunk driver struck another car that in turn slammed into Pedeferri during a freeway traffic stop.

And every 51 minutes, or in about the time you spend reading today’s newspaper, a life is extinguished by a drunk driver.

A life like Eugene Kostiuchenko, a 41-year-old husband and father and Ventura County sheriff’s deputy from Camarillo who was struck and killed early Tuesday morning by a suspected drunken driver after Kostiuchenko had finished a traffic stop on Highway 101.

A life like Chris Prewitt, a 38-year-old husband and father and local standout educator who while on a training run for a marathon this past April was fatally hit by a DUI driver on Victoria Avenue.

A life like Nick Haverland, a 20-year-old Ventura College student who was killed while riding his bike on a city street when he was struck by a drunk driver with a reported blood alcohol level nearly five times the legal limit.

A life like Victoria Castro-Ramirez, local high school senior who was killed because her own mother got behind the wheel drunk. More tragically, her mother had two previous DUI arrests.

And on and on.

1nodrink.png AMMADDenly, according to Mothers Against Drunk Driving, repeat offenders – as appears to be the case in Kostiuchenko’s tragedy – are responsible for roughly one-third of drunk driving arrests, crashes, injuries and deaths.

If Ebola was on pace to claim 10,000 American lives in 2014, there is no end to the money and measures – from technologies to education to zero-tolerance sentencing – we would employ to eradicate it.

If drunk driving was Ebola, breath alcohol ignition locks for all drunk driving offenders would be mandatory. Heck, every car would have a breathalyzer ignition lock.

If drunk driving was Ebola, people would not be allowed to exit a bar or restaurant without passing a breathalyzer.

If drunk driving was Ebola, we would have a national Drunk Driving Czar.

Two minutes have passed and there is not another new case of Ebola in America, but statistically there is another Anthony Pedeferri.

In the next 51 minutes there will not be another Ebola death in America, but statistically Eugene Kostiuchenko, Chris Prewitt, Nick Haverland, Victoria Castro-Ramirez and a dreadful roll call of Americans will grow by one.

The sky may not be falling, but neither is drunk driving merely an acorn falling on a head.

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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”