Monthly Archives: April 2015

Column: Venting Some Anger

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is available here at Amazon

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Reasons to Count to 10 . . . or 100

If you were expecting 700 words of nice this morning, phone your sweet grandma. I’m in a sour mood. But before getting angry, let me share Thomas Jefferson’s “Ten Rules For A Good Life” I recently came across:

Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today.

One of Thomas Jefferson's 10 Rules For A Good Life: "When angry, count to 10 before you speak; if very angry, count to 100."

One of Thomas Jefferson’s 10 Rules For A Good Life: “When angry, count to 10 before you speak; if very angry, count to 100.”

Never trouble another for what you can do yourself.

Never spend your money before you have it.

Never buy what you do not want because it is cheap; it will never be dear to you.

Pride costs us more than hunger, thirst, and cold.

Never repent of having eaten too little.

Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly.

Don’t let the evils that have never happened cost you pain.

Always take things by their smooth handle.

When angry, count to 10 before you speak; if very angry, count to 100.

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After counting to 10, let me say I get angry when adults complain about today’s youth being lazy/rude/entitled/fill-in-the-negativity. The 88 high school seniors honored at this year’s 32nd annual Star Scholar Awards are evidence that Millennials are awesome.

And while the Star Scholars stand out for their academics, volunteerism, athleticism, artistic talents and more, consider this: for each of them honored there were countless other worthy of nomination.

Here is another example of our amazing youth: over the past 17 years, students from Buena High have donated 11,000 hours restoring the Anacapa Island landscape to make it more hospitable for seabirds.

For these efforts the National Park Service has recognized Buena’s Environmental Club with the national Hartzog Volunteer Youth Group Award.

And while Ventura County is indeed special, rest assured every county across this great nation has its own star scholars and young volunteers.

The future is in good hands.

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After counting to 30, let me say I get angry when the Ventura County Board of Supervisors rushes through a proposal, such as it did by scrapping a three-member ethics commission that ruled on campaign finance complaints and replaced it with the appointment of two people – one who will investigate and a czar who will rule.

The law – co-authored by supervisors Steve Bennett and Kathy Long, and passed by a slim 3-2 vote – is troubling because it raises conflicts of issue, most especially because one of the two appointees has previously campaigned for and given money to Bennett.

Most agree campaign finance reform is a good thing, but this change is like trying to improve officiating in college basketball by allowing one of the coaches to handpick an alum from his school to call all the fouls.

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This statistic made me count to 50 in anger: on one single day this past January we had 1,147 homeless children, women and men in Ventura County.

Granted, this is 20 percent less than two years ago but that is meaningless to these 1,147 fellow humans.

We can, and must, continue to do better.

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I had to count to 70 after reading about a 6-year-old girl and her 10-year-old brother who were picked up by Maryland police and held for more than five hours before their parents could even see them.

The siblings’ “crime”? Walking home from a park.

“Two kids that are unaccompanied and they’ve been walking around for about 20 minutes,” said the man who called 911.

It is not an isolated incidence of lunacy. A mother in South Carolina was jailed for letting her 9-year-old play alone in a park and a Florida mom was arrested because her 7-year-old was alone on a playground, to mention just two recent stories.

There weren’t enough jails to lock up the all the parents in the 1960s and ’70s who let their kids explore the world.

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I have to count to 100 every time a law enforcement officer (or volunteer cop) mistakenly shoots a person with a handgun when he or she meant to use a stun gun.

Who had the bright idea of making a stun gun in any way resemble a handgun in the first place?

How about forcing manufacturers to design stun guns shaped like flashlights – then a cop’s mistake of devices won’t be deadly.

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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: Beauty in Imperfection

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is available here at Amazon

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Imperfection Can Be Beautiful

“How long does it take you to write a column?”

It is a question I am often asked when speaking to a classroom of kids or a service group of adults or book club. I really have no good answer other than, “About twice as long as it should because I’m a painfully slow writer – but usually not long enough because my deadline seems to arrive before I’m completely satisfied.”

Navajo blankets often have a "spirit outlet" imperfection purposely woven into them to add even more beauty.

Navajo blankets often have a “spirit outlet” imperfection purposely woven into them to add even more beauty.

This is as true now with a week to turn in a column as it was in the press box with as little as 20 minutes to write from game’s end to deadline. Indeed, I have found truth in Leonardo da Vinci’s observation: “Art is never finished, only abandoned.”

And yet historians suggest da Vinci had a difficult time abandoning his art fully, as it is believed he worked on the Mona Lisa, off and on, for possibly 16 years, including 12 years on the lips.

Thank goodness for deadlines that force a writer to abandon his or her art. Indeed, a deadline is penicillin for the bacteria writer’s blockitis and paralysis by perfectionism.

“Perfectionism is the enemy of creation, as extreme self-solitude is the enemy of well-being,” said the prolific writer John Updike.

Volitare was more succinct, noting: “The perfect is the enemy of the good.”

Nonetheless, I still believe that in writing – as in most endeavors – time and effort are the ally of the good becoming better. Certainly I think a column I spend many hours on, and rewrite and polish and rewrite, will rise above one I bang out in a couple hours.

“Aim at perfection in everything, though in most things it is unattainable,” advised Lord Chesterfield. “However, they who aim at it, and persevere, will come much nearer to it than those whose laziness and despondency make them give it up as unattainable.”

John Wooden put it similarly: “Perfection is an impossibility, but striving for perfection is not. Do the best you can. That is what counts.”

I recently learned that the Shakers, renowned for their furniture design and craftsmanship, had their own vaccine for Type-A perfectionism – they deliberately introduced a “mistake” into the things they made in order to show that man should not aspire to the perfection of God. Flawed, they believed, could be ideal.

Perhaps many of us can take a lesson here from the Shakers. Maybe we don’t figuratively need a gold star and “Perfect” written in red ink atop the page of everything we undertake. Maybe instead we need to be proud of doing our best.

Maybe we need to see our creativity when we draw outside the lines. Maybe we need to embrace the effort when we don’t set a new PR in a 5K or marathon.

Maybe we need to ignore advertising that makes us believe that only a wrinkle-free, gray-free, fill-in-the-blank-free appearance is beauty perfection.

Similar to the Shakers, the Navajos purposely weave a single imperfection into their handmade blankets. To their eyes this makes the blankets more, not less, beautiful.

In his terrific book, “Blood and Thunder: The Epic Story of Kit Carson and the Conquest of the American West,” author Hamptom Sides elaborates on this mindset:

“Navajos hated to complete anything – whether it was a basket, a blanket, a song, or a story. They never wanted their artifacts to be too perfect, or too close-ended, for a definitive ending cramped the spirit of the creator and sapped the life from the art. So they left little gaps and imperfections, deliberate lacunae that kept things alive for another day.

“Even today Navajo blankets often have a faint imperfection designed to let the creation breathe – a thin line that originates from the center and extends all the way to the edge, sometimes with a single thread dangling from its border. Tellingly, the Navajos call the intentional flaw the ‘spirit outlet.’ ”

Henceforth, I will keep the Shakers and Navajos in mind with my writing – and other undertakings – and embrace imperfections. However, I won’t intentionally weave a mistake into my columns as I am confident my “spirit outlet” will occur on its own.

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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: Stranger Becomes a Friend

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is available here at Amazon

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Downside of ‘Hello’ is ‘Goodbye’

“A stranger,” Will Rogers said, “is just a friend I haven’t met yet.”

Three years ago, Jongsoo was a stranger to me.

And then we met, crossing paths at the Ventura Aquatic Center community park. I was on my daily run going one direction around the soccer fields and he walked, aided by a cane, in the opposite. “Hi,” I said as we passed.

My joyful friend, Jongsoo, and me before saying goodbye.

My joyful friend, Jongsoo, and me before saying goodbye.

“HELL-OHHH!” Jongsoo replied in all capital letters with the “o” drawn out and punctuated with an exclamation mark.

Jongsoo not only greeted me with “HELL-OHHH!” whenever I saw him in the days and months that followed, often a few times a week, he would sing it with the same enthusiasm on each ensuing loop, sometimes a dozen times in one afternoon, as if every encounter was the first.

Soon we were exchanging a hug with the day’s first “HELL-OHHH” and high-fives thereafter. Jongsoo’s carbonated joy always added a lightness to my stride and heart.

Too, he made me laugh. For one thing, Jongsoo often walked with a transistor radio, sans earphones, blaring loud enough to scare away birds. Moreover, he sometimes did a few dance steps for my amusement.

The sight of Jongsoo and me trying to converse had to amuse all who saw us, an odd couple to be sure: he two decades older than me; me a foot taller; and neither of us understanding much of what the other was saying despite our pantomimes.

One day early on, Jongsoo was limping more than usual and through gestures I asked about his leg. He answered by displaying a scar that looked like a great white shark had taken a bite out of his hip and thigh. Through charades it became clear the shark had been a car.

Last week, Jongsoo gave me a note, in English, explaining he was leaving in five days and would not return for at least a year.

“Thanks for cheering me up whenever I see you at the park,” it also read. “Thank you for being my friend.”

The following afternoon I handed Jongsoo a return note of thanks with some questions about him. One, two, three days passed and I did not see him at the park. I feared I would not get to say goodbye to my friend.

Why had I not realized sooner that Jongsoo must be living with someone who could translate for us? Mad at myself, I recalled what sports writer Frank Graham once wrote about Bob Meusel, a gruff outfielder with the New York Yankees who in his fading playing days warmed up slightly: “He’s learning to say hello when it’s time to say goodbye.”

On the final day before Jongsoo would fly back to South Korea, as I was nearing the end of my run and about to leave the park, a VW Beetle honked and pulled into the parking lot. Jongsoo had insisted his daughter, Kim, drive him over one last time in hopes of catching me.

“HELL-OHHH!” Jongsoo sang.

“An nyoung!” I said back, after asking Kim for the Korean translation.

From Kim I learned that her father is 76 years old, has three children and his arranged marriage is closing in on its golden anniversary. He has been staying in Ventura with Kim, who came to American in 1994 to earn a doctoral degree in Special Education and remained here to teach, and her husband Cory, a software engineer.

I also learned that a taxi had struck Jongsoo five years ago in Seoul; his hip socket and part of his shattered femur needed to be replaced. How he now walks for one to two hours daily is remarkable and inspiring. Surgery and chemotherapy for colon cancer also did not slow him down for long.

After giving my friend a hug, I asked Kim how to say goodbye in Korean.

“An nyoung!” I said again, for the salutation she explained is the same going as arriving.

I learned to say hello when it was time to say goodbye – but now I’ll be ready to say hello when goodbye ends and Jungsoo and I meet again at the park.

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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: Good News Nuggets

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is available here at Amazon

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There’s Good News This Morning

Gabriel Heatter, a popular radio commentator for the Mutual Broadcasting network during the World War II era, liked to focus on uplifting stories and greeted his audience with the sign-on: “Good evening everyone, there’s good news tonight.”

In honor of Heatter, who passed away 43 years ago this week: Good morning everyone, there’s good news today.

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Nearly everyone in the Turkish town of Bagcilar, near Istanbul, secretly learned sign language in order to surprise their deaf neighbor with a magical day when his sound barriers were broken down.

My friend Connie, owner of Mrs. Figs' Bookworm, helped put on a wonderful "One City, One Book" talk featuring Garth Stein.

My friend Connie, owner of Mrs. Figs’ Bookworm, helped put on a wonderful “One City, One Book” talk featuring Garth Stein.

Thanks to a production crew and cameras hidden inside baby strollers, purses and even an apple on a fruit stand, the uplifting gift to a young man named Muaharrem was captured on video.

The fun begins when Muaharrem – and his sister Ozlem, who is in on the surprise – leaves home on what he thinks is a normal day and encounters a pedestrian on the sidewalk who signs, “Good morning.”

Next, a baker behind the shop’s counter greets Muaharrem with sign language: “We’ve got hot bagels.”

Back outside, a man purposely spills a bag of fruit just as Muaharrem approaches. After Muaharrem stops to help pick up, the man gives his thanks by signing, “I’d like to offer you an apple.”

By now Muaharrem appears stunned, as if he has entered some Bizzaro World, and asks his sister: “Do you know him? Is he hearing impaired?”

Answers Ozlem: “I don’t know.”

The choreographed fun continues when a woman on the sidewalk “accidentally” bumps into Muaharrem and apologizes in sign: “Sorry, my mistake.”

Inside a taxi, the driver signs, “Hi, welcome.” Muaharrem remains bemused until he is dropped off in the public square and greeted by all his neighbors. The ruse is revealed, he is overcome by emotion.

Granted, it was all done for an Internet advertisement for Samsung’s new video call center for the hearing impaired, but for the town members it was done from the heart.

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The Internet hasn’t killed books just yet.

Camarillo’s fourth annual “One City, One Book” literacy event, in chorus with Mrs. Figs’ Bookworm, last Sunday featured a talk by Garth Stein, author of “The Art of Racing in the Rain.”

Almost as wonderful as Stein’s engaging, enlightening and humorous hour-long talk is that the Camarillo Public Library’s conference room was filled to Standing Room Only.

Indeed, 300 book readers in one place is good news that required the bestselling author to spend a full second hour signing copies of “The Art of Racing in the Rain” as well as his new novel “A Sudden Light.”

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In the dark of night, in Eugene, Oregon, a family of four – with a fifth member on the way – was sleeping in its car in a public park that was about to close for curfew.

Robert Wood, his pregnant wife and two young sons were en route moving from Alaska to Eugene and trying to save money while looking for living quarters.

When police officer David Natt discovered the Wood family and heard its story, he made them leave the park . . . but first he gave them money – collected in advance from a local church – for two nights in a hotel until their new housing was available.

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One corner of Philadelphia is certainly living up to the “City of Brotherly Love” nickname thanks to one customer who walked into a small pizza parlor and left $1 to pre-purchase a slice to be redeemed by the next homeless person who enter and couldn’t afford a meal.

Mason Wartman, owner of Rosa’s Fresh Pizza, wrote the purchase down on a Post-it note and stuck it on the wall behind the register. Word spread and soon the kind deed – and Post-its – multiplied as more customers “paid-it-forward” by buying a guaranteed slice of pizza for anyone in need.

To date, 10,000 pizza slices have been bought for needy neighbors!

Mother Teresa said, “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one.” Remarkably, by feeding one person it is possible to inspire feeding a hundred people – or even 10,000. That’s good news.

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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”