Monthly Archives: January 2016

Getting Things Off My Chest

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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Mr. Positive Takes a Negative Spin

A reader recently told me she likes my columns because they are always upbeat and positive. She meant it as a compliment, of course, but after waking up on the wrong side of the bed I see it as being typecast.

So if you were expecting 700 words of Winsome Woody this morning, you are going to be as disappointed as the proud owner of Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat finding himself driving a Prius.

If you want sugar and nice, phone your grandma. I’m in a Donald Trump ranting at the “wise-guy media” kind of mood.

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1superbowllogoI’m steamed at the NFL for switching away from Roman numerals this season and calling its championship game “Super Bowl 50” instead of “Super Bowl L.”

How are school kids, and the rest of us, supposed to learn or remember Roman numerals now? On a scale of I to C, my ticked-off meter is at about

LXXXVIII.

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The Nincompoop Football League didn’t ask me, but this year’s game should be marketed as “Super BowL.”

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I’m churning mad at the Pacific Ocean for beating up our beloved Ventura Pier this winter.

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Tom Spence, community treasure and host at News Talk 1590 KVTA radio, ticks me off for being about XLIII times more funny than am I, as evidenced by this gem he came up with after Sarah Palin droned on and on while endorsing Donald Trump for president:

“A ‘Palindrone’ is something that does not make sense forward or backwards.”

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As for palindromes with an “m,” I prefer “I prefer pi” over “Tacocat.” However, I do prefer tacos over apple pi.

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The debates – Republican and Democratic – have me steam me like a frothy cappuccino.

Even more annoying than the candidates’ Palindroning and pandering is the moderators constantly harping “Time!” . . . “Time, senator/governor/secretary!” . . . “Time’s up, so please shut up!” while the politicians continue to blabber on.

I say it’s time put up a countdown talk clock, much like the NBA’s 24-second shot clock. In this case, when the clock hits zero a buzzer goes off and the podium mic is instantly shut off. If the candidate is in mid-sentence, though luck.

Better yet, place each podium above a dunk tank – candidates who continue to blow hot air after the buzzer sounds will find themselves drenched in cold water.

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The Southern California Gas Co. has me ready to blow my lid. I say make every SoCal Gas executive live in Porter Ranch 24/7 until the months-long natural gas leak is stopped.

I’m XCIX-percent certain that would make them act with more urgency.

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Similarly, force Michigan Gov. Rick Snyder along with all the leaders at the state Department of Environmental Quality to live – and bathe – in Flint, XXIV/VII, until the lead pipes that are poisoning the water are replaced.

Again, I guarantee you the crisis would suddenly be addressed with the all-out effort it rightly demands.

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Speaking of less-than-express action that steams me like an espresso, how about if the Post Office replaces its maple sap-slow window clerks with hyper-speed multi-tasking Starbucks baristas?

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Litter ticks me off, off the charts, especially people who throw cigarette butts out car windows and most especially those who pollute our beautiful beaches with this blight.

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Homelessness. We can, and must, do better.

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I get a surge of road rage that makes my head spin like the titanium-spoked wheel of a racing bike when I read in my favorite newspaper, seemingly weekly, about another cyclist being struck by a car.

To be sure, cyclists who feel like they own the road are maddening – but in my experience they are the minority of the Spandex set.

More maddening, and I believe more common, are impatient drivers who don’t want to share the road with cyclists – and, worse yet, make their displeasure known by buzzing dangerously close when passing them.

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My DCC words are up. Thanks for reading. You’ve been a great audience. Drive safely.

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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”

 

Kindness Times One Million

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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Kind Acts, One by One, Add Up Big

Ventura’s One Million Acts of Kindness campaign is underway in an effort to document seven figures of nice deeds as the city approaches its 150th birthday on April 2.

I am doubtful One Million Acts of Kindness will actually be posted on social media – such as Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/venturakindness) and Tumblr (http://venturakindness.tumblr.com) – as encouraged, but I have zero doubt the target number will be performed locally by the Sesquicentennial celebration.1VenturaKindess

With nearly 110,000 residents in Ventura, mathematically each person needs to perform just one kind act per week from now until April 2 to reach the goal.

Spread out evenly, each of us would likewise be the beneficiary of 10 nice deeds by the big birthday. Judging from my personal experience on the receiving end of kindness in recent days alone, this is going to be a slam dunk.

A quick sampling . . .

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My wife, daughter, son and I had just scooched in together around the only open table, designed for just two people, in the self-seating bar area of a local Irish pub when a young couple seated at a bigger table across the room waved us over and insisted we switch with them.

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While I was on a run at Ventura Community Park, a driver pulled alongside me at the soccer fields and rolled down his window. Instead of asking for directions, he asked if I like avocados.

Avocados?

He explained he sees me running daily and just wanted to give me a token of thanks for inspiring him. He then handed me a beautiful avocado, with a sticker on it from the grocery so it wasn’t even a freebie from his own backyard.

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A woman named Thelma mailed me the book “Life Wisdom from Coach Wooden” that she came across at a Ventura Friends of the Library sale.

She included this kind note: “I thought you might enjoy this if you do not already have a copy.”

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Speaking of books, and John Wooden, Mark Wilson bought four copies of my “Wooden & Me” and requested I donate them to disadvantaged youth.

Nancy and Richard Francis did likewise with a couple copies of my newest book, “Strawberries in Wintertime.”

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I have mentioned here previously a lady selling flowers at a local farmers market who bargained me down from a $5 tip to $2.

The next time I bought flowers, I stubbornly “won” our tip negotiations.

Which brings us to our most recent transaction. Walking up, I overheard her say “That’ll be seven dollars” to the customer before me. When I selected an identical bouquet of sunflowers, however, I was told the cost was $5 – she had already started our tip dance.

I continued our two-step, telling told her I knew these flowers cost $7. She smiled playfully, agreed to take $7, but insisted on getting me a fresher bouquet from inside her van.

She then returned with a bouquet twice as large!

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My friend Scott had a similar tipping experience recently after taking a shuttle from long-term parking to LAX. Upon being dropped off at his terminal, he realized his smallest bill was a $20.

Scott asked the driver if he could make change, but was told: “Don’t worry, you can get me next time.”

Getting this same driver ever again was, of course, a long shot. But a bigger long shot is for Scott to stiff someone of a tip, so he handed over the $20 bill.

Remarkably, the driver refused it.

Scott insisted, and persisted, until the driver accepted.

However, the driver then dug deep into his pocket and insisted, and persisted, until Scott accepted a wad of uncounted $1-bill tips – $13 it turned out – as change.

“I was struck by how hard he pushed to not take a tip that he obviously thought was too much,” Scott recalls. “There was no doubt he was sincere. The dignity with which he handled this small exchange was inspiring.”

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Inspiring. That’s a good word to describe our citizenry throughout all of Ventura County.

Indeed, with Ventura’s One Million Acts of Kindness campaign the bar seems to have been set too low.

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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”

 

Lost & Found, A Dog Story

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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Feliz Navidad Arrives Belatedly

An uninvited guest dropped by on the first Sunday morning of this New Year and instantly made herself right at home.

Lunch came and dinner went, and still she stayed, making herself comfortable on the couch. It was obvious she expected to spend the night, if not longer.

"Navi" making her cute self at home on our couch.

“Navi” making her cute self at home on our couch.

It was all my wife’s fault. She not only welcomed our guest with open arms – she carried her in her arms across a busy stoplight intersection and then the final few blocks to our house, fearful the small lost dog would dart into traffic.

The dog, you see, had started following my wife while she was out on an early-morning run. How long the dog had been giving chase before being noticed, my wife was not sure.

“Stay,” “heel” and “stop!” commands all failed. The interloper kept following.

My wife circled through this unfamiliar neighborhood, listening for a worried owner’s shout and looking for an open gate to a backyard, all to no avail. The dog, with no collar and ID, still followed.

We immediately drove back to where the dog latched onto my wife’s Nikes and canvassed the area. A boy, about age 10, seemed to recognize the white dog with black markings and directed us to a house where he thought it lived. Indeed, a very similar-looking dog answered the front door with its owner.

After striking out with a few others we encountered, we put up half-a-dozen “FOUND DOG” signs throughout the area and also posted messages on the Ventura County Animal Shelter’s webpage.

A visit to the veterinarian revealed the dog had no microchip for identification. (Public Service Announcement: collars with identification tags can come off so get your pet microchipped!)

As a Hail Mary, I posted a photo on my own Facebook page and asked Ventura friends to “share” it.

We cancelled our afternoon plans, stayed home, and waited.

Frankly, I did not do cartwheels having a lost dog in our backyard. Our 9-year-old boxer, Murray – named after the great writer, Jim Murray – was none too pleased either. He and I both knew it was only a matter of time, and not much, before my wife’s heart melted and she brought the dog inside from the chill.

The over-under-was an hour. The “under” bets won, and easily.

The energetic small dog not only won over my wife (no big feat), she also won over Murray (no small feat). I, too, quickly succumbed to the charms of this affectionate and playful pup.

That night, as we contemplated confining the new dog in the laundry room, she raced into our bedroom and hopped onto the bed. If you tell me you could have looked her in those brown doey eyes and ordered her “off!” I will tell you that you are lying.

Before we drifted off to sleep, the dog had snuggled her way into our hearts.

Mid-morning the following day, the only thing that would have made us happier than adopting this lost dog happened: the social media Hail Mary was caught in the end zone.

Joey Archuletta, a sophomore at Buena High, recognized the dog in the Facebook picture as belonging to his good friend and classmate, Diego Villa. Within an hour, the story had a happy ending.

Here’s how happy: “I felt like Joey just cured me of cancer when he showed me that you found Navi,” Diego told me.

Feliz Navidad on January fourth.

Navi, you see, is short for Navidad – named thusly because Diego and his family got the Jack Russell-Labrador mix as a 12-week-old puppy for Christmas 2014.

Nine days after this Christmas, the side gate had been left unlatched and Navi escaped unnoticed. That she also leapt over a four-foot-high wall comes as no surprise after seeing her jump entirely over our couch with the ease of an Olympic high jumper.

The surprise here is that Diego says Navi is an outdoors dog and does not sleep in his bed.

One more surprise: even after just one night of her company, the foot of our mattress feels a little empty without Navi.

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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”

This and That, Plus Balls Tally

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s new book STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter is available for Pre-Order HERE NOW! In time for the holidays!

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This, that and final holiday ball tally

            Nobody asked me, but here goes anyway . . .

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It has certainly been “raining cats and dogs” this week, which raises the question: How in the world did that crazy expression originate?

During my trip to Ireland last year, I got the answer – or, at least, one that makes as much sense as any.1catsdogsrain

During a countryside tour of County Cork, our guide pointed out a number of traditional thatched roofs that still exist. He explained that when these roofs were the standard long ago, cats and dogs actually climbed up, burrowed into, and slept inside the thick straw.

When it rained exceptionally hard, the animals would jump out to escape from near drowning. Hence the expression, “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

Even if our Irish guide was pulling our American legs, I like it!

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The word “unbelievable,” I believe, is greatly overworked.

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Listen up, NFL and NCAA football! Either do away with the rule against offensive players pushing, pulling and using forklifts to assist the ball carrier, or start throwing the penalty flag. It looks like a rugby scrum on 25 percent of the running plays!

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I lack all musical genes, and have no songwriting experience whatsoever, but I am still convinced I could write a hit for Adele.

Shoot, I believe she could sing this column and make it sound wonderful, so unbelievable is her voice.

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Speaking of unbelievable voices, Dodgers broadcaster Vin Scully once told me about a fantastic book he had just finished reading, “The Professor and the Madman.”

Hearing him summarize this story behind the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary made me think that Scully could read straight from the Oxford English Dictionary and make it sound like poetry set to music.

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The Jane Laut murder trial in Ventura County for the fatal shooting of her husband, former Olympic athlete Dave Laut, is finally set to begin next week.

Understand, the shooting took place on August 29, 2009 – more than six years ago. And only now, in January 2016, the trial? Unbelievable!

The judge and court didn’t ask me, and I only know what I read in my favorite newspaper, but that is so glacier-ly slow it seems here like one or both sides have been more focused on playing games and stalling rather than on pursuing timely justice. That’s just my two cents.

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The lighting in grocery stores is truly unbelievable: bananas that appear a nice yellow turn out to be green as limes when I get them home in sunlight.

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Nobody who contributed to “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive” asked to be recognized in print, but I feel their generosity deserves nothing less and is a small measure of thanks for the disadvantaged kids they made smile.

Contributors not mentioned here previously include, in no special order: Marty and Freida Harary, Bill Ferguson, Tom and Sheila McCollum, Jim and Sandie Arthur, Kay Giles, Michael Mariani, Norma Fulkerson, Howard and Kathy Reich, Tom and Karyne Roweton, Brad and Mia Ditto, Audrey Rubin, Orvene Carpenter, Lisa Trout, Ann and Kevin Drescher, Steve Magoon, Steve Askay, Patricia Herman, Kathy and Jim Vargeson, Arlys Tuttle, Gayle Camalich, Trudy Tuttle Arriaga, Toni Tuttle-Santana, Kymberly King, Doug Woodburn, Jim Woodburn, James Woodburn, Linda Reynolds, Sally and Tom Reeder, Kathy and Joe Vaughan, and many anonymous angels as well.

Also, shoutouts to Draza Mrvichin, who gave a mix of 14 balls; my former next-door neighbor from childhood, Norma Zuber, and her PEO Sisterhood service group, which donated 19 various balls; and Jerry and Linda Mendelsohn, who donated 20 balls evenly split between basketball and soccer.

The finally tally from this past holiday season was . . .

. . . drum roll, please . . .

. . . a whopping 253 new sports balls – up from 211 a year ago – broken down thusly: 148 basketballs, 62 soccer balls, 27 footballs and 16 playground balls.

Thank you, dear readers. Your kindness is unbelievable.

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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”

 

Advice: Chase Butterflies

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s new book STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter is available for Pre-Order HERE NOW! In time for the holidays!

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My Your Heart Go Aflutter in New Year

Chase butterflies.

When asked recently to write a brief essay on the topic of “A Letter Of Advice To My 21-Year-Old Self,” that was my answer in a nutshell. Chase butterflies.

I will soon explain more fully.1butterfly

But first let me say that chasing butterflies also seems timely advice, for anyone of any age, as we begin our 2016 journey around the sun.

Even though spring is yet a far ways off, the turning of the calendar pages from the old year to the new always brings to my mind a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. The caterpillar’s past has been shed and left behind; the world is anew and bright and full of promise.

Moreover, most butterflies emerge in the morning – again, the image of a new year’s fresh beginning. Indeed, New Year resolutions are goals for a personal metamorphosis of sorts.

But my advice to chase butterflies is more than metaphorical.

Remember in your youth when you raced after Monarchs with a butterfly net? There are few images of girlhood or boyhood more carefree.

Perhaps you did not even catch any butterflies. That didn’t even matter because the joy was in the running, in the sport of it, in the zig-zagging through a field until you were out of breath – the breathlessness, in part, from laughing at your “failure” to catch the elusive fluttering prey.

Lesson from the child: when is the last time as an adult you didn’t let “failure” get you down and instead happily laughed it off?

Yes, we would all do well to pursue our adult passions with this same sense of joy and play as we did racing barefooted in the grass with a cheesecloth net-on-a-stick in our hands.

Chasing butterflies also means embracing things that scare you – things that make your stomach flutter with nervousness.

As I wrote in that letter to my 21-year-old college self: “Remember the swarm of butterflies doing cartwheels in your stomach the first time you asked out that gorgeous girl you are now dating? Spoiler alert, Woody, that works out marvelously even 34 years later!”

The butterflies of trying new things and taking chances should not be avoided. The riskier thing, truly, is to remain inside a safe cocoon. As the Roman poet Virgil noted, “Fortune favors the bold.”

Fortune favors butterfly chasers, I say.

Or as Mark Twain so wisely put it: “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

And, he might have well added, do things that make the butterflies in your belly dance.

Eleanor Roosevelt knew this, famously advising: “Do one thing every day that scares you.”1Bold

If the word “scares” scares you, keep in mind that “frightening” is a close cousin of “exciting.” So when a new challenge or unchartered adventure or out-of-your-comfort-zone opportunity gives you butterflies, run (BEGINITAL)towards(ENDITAL) it not from it!

Throw off your bowlines and learn a new language. Take guitar lessons. Or golf lessons. Enroll in a painting class. Sign up for volunteer work.

Train for a marathon. Learn to surf. Climb Mount Whitney.

Start writing that novel you have long felt you had inside you. Ask someone on a date – or accept the invite.

Join Toastmasters and tackle your fear of public speaking. Tackle a career change from the safe job you have, but doesn’t excite you, to the one of your dreams.

Travel. Explore. Go sailing. Go for it!

I closed my letter to my younger self with John Wooden’s “7-Point Creed,” which I consider to be concise wisdom of great breadth and depth:

Be true to yourself.

Make each day your masterpiece.

Help others.

Drink deeply from good books.

Make friendship a fine art.

Build a shelter against a rainy day.

Pray for guidance and give thanks for your blessings every day.

And, I concluded, add this eighth point: Chase butterflies.

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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”