Column: Homeless Compassion

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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Homeless Deserve Compassion

It was a recent evening, lovely even by California standards, and after enjoying dinner at an Italian restaurant my daughter and I were walking to a theater. Along the way, predictably, we encountered a homeless man encamped on the sidewalk.

Also, predictably, he was begging for spare change.1-homeless

Predictably, too, my daughter instead offered him a take-out box containing half of a savory dinner, complete with plastic utensils she had thought to ask our waiter to include in anticipation of this scene.

“What is it?” the unkempt and unshaven man asked.

“Pasta and chicken,” my daughter answered, adding: “It’s delicious!”

The man, wearing a knit cap despite the unseasonably warm evening, shook his head like a child who has been offered Brussels sprouts and waved his hands as though shooing away a pigeon. “Nah, I don’t think I’d eat that,” he said dismissively.

As we walked on, slightly stunned at the rejection, my daughter observed: “At least he was honest about it so we can give it to someone who will enjoy it.”

Curmudgeonly, I said: “If it was a Big Mac you know he would have been thrilled.”

Perhaps I was correct, but certainly my daughter was because on the very next block she succeeded in doing what Mother Teresa urged: “If you can’t feed a hundred people, feed just one.”

Truth is there are a hundred, and hundreds more, locally who need to be fed – and clothed and given a warm and dry place to sleep, especially on those nights far harsher than the one recalled above.

So I was dismayed by a Feb. 15 guest column in The Star under the headline: “How to end homelessness? No extra services.” The writer argued that the efforts of local faith leaders and their materialistic solutions to end homelessness will only worsen the problem, not help it.

Among the writer’s contentions is that “the majority of the chronically homeless have substance abuse and/or mental illness issues they simply refuse to deal with responsibly.”

But therein lies the Rubik’s cube: it is no simple matter for anyone struggling with mental illness or substance abuse – even those with the financial means to afford the best help – to deal with these challenges responsibly.

Indeed, to complain, as the commentary did, “If they would just get clean and sober,” is to diminish not only the problem but the individuals, as though mental illness and addiction are a choice.

Compassion, on the other hand, is a choice. Treating the down-and-out with respect, not scorn, is a choice. Offering a helping hand is a choice. Choices we must make.

To be sure, help and services will too often seem in vain. But if there were an easy fix, it would have happened already. I would rather have a citizenry that tries and fails to help the homeless than one that fails to try.

Just this week Pope Francis did something so small to help the poor that it is actually huge: a space off of St. Peter’s Square has been transformed to offer homeless men and women shower facilities daily and free haircuts and shaves every Monday. The biggest offering – a little dignity.

Closer to home, Scott Harris is also trying to help the least among us in a way that often goes overlooked. His local firm, Mustang Marketing, is holding a “Sleeping Bag Drive.” Used bags donated to its office at 3135 Old Conejo Road in Thousand Oaks by March 15 will be dry cleaned before being given out. Better yet, every $25 donation will pay for the purchase of a new sleeping bag. (Information: 805-498-8718)

“When it’s all said and done,” Harris says, “no one should go to bed cold. We can make a difference.”

Nor should anyone go to bed hungry. Walking back to our car after the show, my daughter and I again passed the homeless man who had wrinkled his nose at her pasta and chicken leftovers. He was eating a fast-food hamburger. Happily, someone else had made a small difference more to his liking.

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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: Stories of Love

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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Season of Love Stories

“To every thing there is a season,” Ecclesiastes 3 tells us, “and a time to every purpose under the heavens.”

For my wife and me, the time of recent has been wedding season.

1-wedding.png AMNieces’ weddings. Children of our friends’ weddings. Weddings of co-workers young enough to be our children. Our children’s friends’ weddings. Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn don’t go to as many ceremonies in “Wedding Crashers” as we have the past year.

Our own wedding was 32 years ago and there was no video made of the ceremony and the reception was a blur and quite honestly I would like a do-over.

By this I do not mean a do-again by renewing our vows in front of new friends and family we have gained since our first “I do’s” – although this, too, would be wonderful.

Rather, I would like to relive our original wedding with the same bridal party and same groomsmen and the same entire guest list. “Groundhog Day” on September 4, 1982.

Given a magical do-over, I would make a better effort to stop and smell the bouquet, so to speak, and savor more specific moments and memorize more priceless interactions from the day.

Indeed, after watching my beautiful bride walk down the aisle to meet me at the pulpit, everything else – the verse readings, the minister’s words, our vows and our first kiss as husband and wife, the giddy walk-on-air back down the aisle together, the reception line, toasts given, our first dance, even how a groomsman wound up in a swimming pool in his tux – is pretty much all lost in the fog of time.

Better than renewing our vows, it seems to me, is now going to weddings. Sitting in a church pew or nestled around a gorgeous garden spot or overlooking the ocean or a scenic country club fairway, allows one to experience the circumstance and pomp and importance of the moment much more clearly than can the two people standing front and center – and nervous and excited and overwhelmed.

Being a wedding spectator offers the chance to vicariously be the groom or bride again with the advantage of not being bowled over by the occasion. It entices you to silently renew your own vows and commitment as you watch the real couple do so.

Indeed, if you are married, it is almost impossible not to be affected watching two others join the club. The next time you are at a wedding, when the bride is saying her vows slyly take a quick peak around and notice how many married couples in attendance reach down and squeeze each other’s hands; after the big kiss, see how many little kisses among married spectators follow.

Here is something else rejuvenating about attending someone else’s wedding. Even if I happen to already know the answer, I still like to ask the blissful couple about their “meet-cute.” It is always, and I do mean always, a story they light up in retelling.

Too, listening always, and I do mean always, lightens my heart and reminds me of my own magical first encounter that led to “for better and for worse, in sickness and in health.”

Like weddings, Valentine’s Day offers a similar opportunity to be inspired by young love. If you go for a walk along the beach today, or out to a restaurant tonight, you will have no trouble picking out the couples on dates and newlyweds.

Equally heartening are the couples that appear to be newly in love or newly married, but at the same time you can just tell they have been together for a long time.

If there were a polite way to do so, I would love to interrupt them briefly and ask how they met and also for their secret to making it last. I have a hunch some of these lovebirds might mention that going to a lot of weddings helps keep their own marriage happy and fresh.

In this season of my life, that’s one thing I would say.

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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: Sharing Annoyances

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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Pendulum Mood Swings

If you were expecting 700 words of nice this morning, phone your grandma. I’m in an annoyed “Why didn’t the Seahawks give the football to Marshawn Lynch at the 1-yard line?!” kind of mood.

I loved the “Like A Girl” Super Bowl ad.

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1rungirlI get annoyed that in 2015 there even needs to be a campaign battling negative stereotypes of throwing, running, fill-in-the-blank “Like A Girl.”

I’d love to see a Super Bowl ad next year encouraging boys to “hit the books Like A Girl” – 32 percent of women now receive a bachelor’s degree by age 27 compared to 24 percent of men. Even attending college, Like A Girl wins 70 percent to 61 percent for Like A Boy.

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I get annoyed by leaf blowers that simply move the mess into the street or another yard.

I love seeing a pile of raked leaves – especially if kids are busy making a mess of it.

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I get so annoyed that I get a fever and flat red spots appear on my face, neck, trunk, arms, legs and feet, by parents who refuse to vaccinate their children from measles and other diseases. To bad there isn’t a vaccine for scientific ignorance, although I guess the people who need it most would refuse it.

I love that as a kid, thanks Jonas Salk, I didn’t have to avoid swimming pools in the summer because of a polio outbreak and never knew a person who needed leg braces, much less an iron lung. I also love it that thanks to vaccines neither of my two kids or any of their friends lost their hearing, or worse, because of the measles.

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I get annoyed by mammoth street sweepers that never seem to actually sweep up anything but instead merely spray water on the dirty street and mix it with spinning steel bristles to leave a film of mud behind.

I love the street sweepers’ cousin, the Zamboni.

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I get annoyed when my laptop has a five-second hiccup and displays a spinning rainbow pinwheel before finallllllllly completing its task.

I love how much faster my computer is, even when it hiccups, than my laptop of 10 years ago was during peak performance.

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I get annoyed when the TV news “teases” a story of vital importance – “You might be serving cyanide on your dinner plate tonight!” – but doesn’t share this life-saving information until after the weather report … and after dinner.

I love it that I can get the local weather forecast in a matter of seconds anytime on my smartphone.

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I get annoyed when the driver at the front of a line of cars isn’t paying attention when a left-turn green arrow comes on and then bolts through on the yellow while the rest of us don’t make it through the intersection.

I love it when I drive from point A to point B and get all green lights.

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I get annoyed when the battery in my GPS running watch loses its charge in the middle of a run and, heaven forbid, I have to determine my pace and distance the old-fashioned way by estimation.

I love to sometimes leave my GPS watch at home and not even think about my pace.

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I get annoyed at myself because I keep underestimating the slow-as-a-doctor’s-waiting-room traffic on the 101 Freeway in Camarillo and wind up being late.

I love being ten minutes early – which Coach John Wooden said was actually merely being on time.

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I get annoyed when a doctor’s office is running 30 minutes behind schedule.

I love it when a doctor’s receptionist performs a magic act and finds a way to squeeze me in the very day I call in with an illness or ailment.

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I love that the sequel novel to Harper Lee’s 1960 literary masterpiece “To Kill a Mockingbird,” titled “Go Set a Watchman” and featuring Scout now 20 years older, will be published this July.

I get annoyed by Lee – not by her reclusiveness all these years, but because she makes it readily apparent I can’t write “Like A Girl.”

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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”