Thomas Fire Lesson A Year After

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1StrawberriesCoverWooden-&-Me-cover-mock-upFor a Personalized Autographed copy of STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME” or “WOODEN & ME” use the PayPal link on my home page or mail a check for $25 to:

Woody Woodburn

400 Roosevelt Court

Ventura, CA 93003

Lesson from Thomas Fire a Year After

It was bound to happen, sooner or later.

Had it been a year sooner, however, I believe I would have been far more upset – both at the loss and at myself for being responsible. Such is one tiny token given by the heinous Thomas Fire that – like California’s recent tragic wildfires – took so very much, from so many, a year ago come this Tuesday.

First, the backstory. For Mother’s Day a handful of years past, my daughter and son came upon the lovely idea of giving their mom four ceramic bowls – each unique in bright colors and design, one for each family member.

Because my wife is half-Italian, on her mother’s side, it was decided it would add meaning to honor this heritage with hand-painted Italian bowls.

Upon finding some imported dishes we favored, it was decided – by me – to get only one. This was because a single bowl cost about as much as airfare to Tuscany where one could meet the artisan and buy his or her pottery wares in person.

Before May even turned to June, the bowl suffered a chip beyond use. Mea culpa – rather, in Italian: colpa mia. Had I known any Italian swear words, I would have used them all. I made do with a few in English.

Prudently, a month thereafter the expensive bowl was replaced with a beautiful locally crafted bowl purchased at the annual Ventura ArtWalk. The bargain was extended with three more bowls to give us a full family table setting.

My wife was perfectly pleased and yet I still felt a need to replace the Italian-made bowl. A few months thereafter, for her birthday, I did. Perhaps it should be no surprise, however, that it went largely unused. We were all afraid of breaking it, most especially me.

Indeed, to eat salad or soup or pasta, or cereal or oatmeal or ice cream, from it seemed a little like hanging an original Picasso sketch on the refrigerator door with magnets. The new Italian bowl belonged safely inside a frame, so to speak, on display in a dining room hutch.

The dining room hutch in my boyhood home was filled with expensive bowls and more. It is where my late mom kept her good china and beloved blue-and-white Wedgewood plates. All were all destroyed when the Thomas Fire razed the house where my dad still lived.

Amid the heart-rending ruins, if one examined closely enough with rose-colored glasses, there was a sliver of a silver lining to be found: at least the good china and Wedgewood had been frequently used.

“A long life may not be good enough,” Benjamin Franklin noted, “but a good life is long enough.” My mom believed the same was true for nice things. She thought her good silver and china should be used and enjoyed regularly, not cautiously saved for special occasions. She considered every day a special occasion.

In the dark aftermath of the Thomas Fire, I decided to start using our Italian bowl daily. For safety’s sake, I never put it in the dishwasher but instead hand-washed it.

Perhaps the dishwasher would have been safer. The other day, a combination of soapy suds and carelessness caused it to slip from my grasp. It fell all of a couple inches before striking the sink, but that was still too far. It shattered like Humpty Dumpty after his great fall.

To be honest, my initial reaction was stubbing-one’s-big-toe-like anguish. Yet, quick as a finger snap, Zen calmness washed over me. People matter, things don’t – that important lesson from the Thomas Fire is an enduring gift.

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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 Kickstarter Front PhotoCheck out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

 

 

 

Rants and Raves on This and That

Is your Club or Group looking for an inspiring guest speaker or do you want to host a book signing? . . . Contact Woody today!

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1StrawberriesCoverWooden-&-Me-cover-mock-upFor a Personalized Autographed copy of STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME” or “WOODEN & ME” use the PayPal link on my home page or mail a check for $25 to:

Woody Woodburn

400 Roosevelt Court

Ventura, CA 93003

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Rants and Raves About This and That

If you were expecting 600 words of nice this morning, put down the newspaper and go phone your grandma. I’m in an annoyed I-stubbed-my-toe kind of mood.

But I do love being able to wear flip-flops in November.

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            I get annoyed by the early darkness and wish we could keep Daylight Saving Time year-round.

I love that the clocks on my cell phone, cable box and GPS watch “fall back” automatically and I don’t have to reset them.

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            I get annoyed that anyone in America has to wait in line for two or three hours, some even longer, to cast a ballot. As the 49-year-old saying goes, If we can put a man on the moon . . . we should be able to get everyone in-and-out of the voting booth in under an hour.

I still love our election system, messy-as-a-baby-eating-spaghetti-by-herself that it is.

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            I get annoyed by political yard signs that remain out long after the election is over. I say politicians should be fined $1 per sign left out, per day, after a 48-hour grace period.

I love this election-inspired lyric from “Belief” by John Mayer: “Is there anyone who ever remembers / Changing their mind from the paint on a sign?”

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            I get annoyed that Christmas advertising now begins before Halloween. The day is coming when Americans will return from trick-or-treating and sit down to eat huge turkey dinners with all the fixings and then open presents the next morning.

I love giving out candy, giving thanks, and giving gifts.

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

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

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            It annoys me that dangerous, and senseless, “targeting” continues to happen in football. I say instead of ejection from a game, the first time a player uses his helmet as a weapon he should thereafter be forced to play in a bygone-era leather helmet. There won’t be a need for any second penalties.

I love high school and college marching bands.

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            It annoys me when the salsa is gone before the tortilla chips are.

I love the rare times the chips and salsa come out even.

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            I get annoyed by all the mixed signals about flu shots – “You must get it; no, you shouldn’t; this year’s vaccine will be a good match for circulating viruses; no, it never is.”

In the end – but in the arm – I always get the shot and I love it when, because of it or not, I don’t get the flu.

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

I love seeing Good Samaritans picking up selfish people’s litter.

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            I am annoyed that Clayton Kershaw, who has 9 wins against 10 losses in postseason career play, was rewarded with an extra year worth $28 million on top of the $65 million the Dodgers already owed him for 2019 and 2020. As Lee Trevino used to say, “You drive for show and putt for dough.” The regular season is for show, postseason is for dough.

I love that his organization “Kershaw’s Challenge: Strikeout to Serve” donates millions of dollars to help others.

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            It annoys me when people complain seriously about minor annoyances.

I love this wisdom from Dick Dodd, a 90-year-old Venturan and longtime volunteer: “You gotta go to bed liking yourself, and the only way to do that is by helping somebody else.”

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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 Kickstarter Front PhotoCheck out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

 

Early Christmas for 2018 Ball Drive

Is your Club or Group looking for an inspiring guest speaker or do you want to host a book signing? . . . Contact Woody today!

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1StrawberriesCoverWooden-&-Me-cover-mock-upFor a Personalized Autographed copy of STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME” or “WOODEN & ME” use the PayPal link on my home page or mail a check for $25 to:

Woody Woodburn

400 Roosevelt Court

Ventura, CA 93003

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Early Christmas for 2018 Ball Drive

In my boyhood, I fondly remember picking wild blackberries and raspberries on humid summer days spent at a weekend cabin retreat in rural Ohio. My three siblings and I literally filled pail after pail with ripe berries despite the fact that nearly as many went directly into our mouths.

Despite their ready abundance, these gathered berries – and store-bought strawberries as well – in summertime were always a delicious treat. Too, an expected one.

Some of last year’s gift balls for disadvantaged kids.

Berries in the wintertime, in the Midwest, however, are something I cannot recall from my youth. I am sure they were available at the supermarket in the 1960s for a premium, but Mom never brought them home.

So it was a magical winter indeed when my family took a Christmas vacation to Ventura in 1971. I had never before seen the ocean in person, much less bodysurfed and built sandcastles; explored tidal pools at low tide and chased a “grunion run” under a full moon’s high tide.

And here is something else new and magical: fresh strawberries in wintertime. Instead of by the bucketful as with Ohio blackberries, we enjoyed Ventura County strawberries by the overflowing “flat.”

The following summer we moved from Columbus to Ventura and plump strawberries became year-round fare. Still, in my mind, “strawberries in wintertime” has remained synonymous for an unexpected treat.

I received such a treat this summer in an email from John Knittle. More accurately, I guess, it proved to be “Christmas in June.”

Knittle is a member of the Camarillo-Somis Lions Club and they wanted to learn more about my annual holiday sports ball drive. I came to a meeting and shared how it started . . .

About 20 years ago, I was at a local youth basketball clinic when NBA All-Star Cedric Ceballos presented autographed basketballs to a handful of lucky attendees.

Leaving the gym afterward, I happened upon a 10-year-old boy who 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 the boy had not carefully carried the trophy basketball home and put it safely on a bookshelf, I interrupted his playing to ask.

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

That Christmastime, thinking of that boy – and other boys and girls who do not have their own basketball to shoot, soccer ball to kick, football to throw – Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive was born.

Shortly after my visit to the Lions, president Russ White informed me the club had decided to throw in its support. And so, even before officially kicking off this year’s annual campaign with today’s column, already 100 local disadvantaged youth are guaranteed to receive a brand new basketball thanks to the Lions’ generosity.

Once again, I am encouraging you dear readers to join in by dropping off a new sports ball – or balls – at any local Boys & Girls Club, YMCA, youth club or church and they will find a worthy young recipient.

Or drop balls off (weekdays from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. through Dec. 21) at Jensen Design & Survey at 1672 Donlon St. (near Target on Telephone Road in Ventura) and I will take it from there. Or have online orders shipped to the same address.

Also, please email me about your gift at woodywriter@gmail.com so I can add your generosity to this year’s tally.

Together, we can metaphorically fill a fruit flat to overflowing with sports balls and give a lot of kids “strawberries in wintertime” joy.

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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 Kickstarter Front PhotoCheck out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

T.O. Latest to Become Anytown USA

Is your Club or Group looking for an inspiring guest speaker or do you want to host a book signing? . . . Contact Woody today!

* * *

1StrawberriesCoverWooden-&-Me-cover-mock-upFor a Personalized Autographed copy of STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME” or “WOODEN & ME” use the PayPal link on my home page or mail a check for $25 to:

Woody Woodburn

400 Roosevelt Court

Ventura, CA 93003

T.O. Latest to Become Anytown USA

“It won’t happen here,” used to be a common refrain when an unthinkable mass shooting occurred.

Such thoughts belong to nostalgic days. Mass shootings in America are no longer unthinkable; they are as commonplace as a sunrise.

That is barely an exaggeration, for already this year – according to the Gun Violence Archive – there have been 307 mass shootings in the U.S. Meanwhile, as I write this, we are 312 days into 2018.

Since I file my column on Thursday mornings, it is not unthinkable that the 307 total will have risen higher by the time you read this. In fact, statistically, that is highly likely.

The 307th mass shooting of 2018 happened in Zip Code 91361. Thousand Oaks. Inside the popular Borderline Bar & Grill. In other words, “it happened here.”

How could a gunman kill 12 people in a restaurant located in a city that is annually ranked one of the safest cities in the nation according to crime rate per capita?

A better question is, how could anyone expect any city to be immune from such mayhem?

Indeed, the next mass-shooting rampage – and, sadly, there will be a next one, and a next, ad nauseam – can happen Anywhere USA.

Just two weeks ago, on Oct. 27, it happened in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood of Pittsburgh, PA, when 11 people were killed inside the Tree of Life synagogue.

It happened in Santa Fe, Texas, when 10 high school students were killed this past May 18.

It happened in Parkland, Florida, this past Valentine’s Day, when 17 were killed at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School.

Those 2018 shootings above are not an aberration. In recent years, it happened at a church in Sutherland Springs, Texas; in a gay nightclub in Orlando; at an outdoor concert in Las Vegas; in a movie theater in Colorado; in front of a supermarket in Tucson; in an elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut.

Newtown, old towns, every town. The specific place changes, the number of victims varies, but the bullets constantly keep flying, keeping killing, keep injuring, keep shattering communities.

The faces of the victims change and yet they also remain the same: faces of young lives that will never fulfill their dreams; faces of Girl Scouts and teenage girls-next-door; faces of Little League boys and new fathers; faces of mothers who will never see their sons and daughters graduate from high school or college, not see them marry, not see their future grandchildren born; faces of friends and co-workers and neighbors.

And faces of heroes, like Ventura Police Sgt. Ron Helus, a 29-year veteran on the force who rushed towards danger inside the Borderline Bar & Grill, took incoming fire, took a fatal bullet, his selfless brave action saving countless lives at the cost of his own at age 54.

There can be no borderline on this issue: we MUST as a nation take action against gun violence. And assault-type rifles are not the only scourge. The Borderline madman used a single .45-caliber handgun, legally purchased, but outfitted with an extended magazine.

Following the Las Vegas Shooting, I wrote: “If this—59 dead, 527 wounded, by one civilian—is what our Founding Fathers had in mind when they wrote the Second Amendment, they were idiots. I do not believe our Founding Fathers were idiots. I believe we Americans are.”

Thirteen dead and 21 injured, on a weekday night, in a local bar and grill, in one of our nation’s safest cities, proves our idiocy continues. If you think it can’t happen where you live, think again.

It happened here.

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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 Kickstarter Front PhotoCheck out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

A “Multiplier” Without Math Skills

Is your Club or Group looking for an inspiring guest speaker or do you want to host a book signing? . . . Contact Woody today!

* * *

1StrawberriesCoverWooden-&-Me-cover-mock-upFor a Personalized Autographed copy of STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME” or “WOODEN & ME” use the PayPal link on my home page or mail a check for $25 to:

Woody Woodburn

400 Roosevelt Court

Ventura, CA 93003

A “Multiplier” Without Math Skills

With civil discord seeming to multiply daily as Tuesday’s elections near, it’s heartening to consider a different kind of “multiplier” as described by Helen Yunker, a Ventura community leader and generous benefactor who passed away this summer at age 96:

“By helping and sharing with others, you multiply your own happiness and blessings many times over.”

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In response to my series of columns about “Mrs. Figs’ Bookworm,” and the old-fashioned manual typewriter on display that patrons are encouraged to use, Shirley Koval typed a new-fashioned email:

“Loved to see this quaint bookstore and owner Connie Halpern you wrote about. I like to go there and browse and discuss books, etc.

“However, you didn’t mention what “Mrs. Figs” stands for – “Faith In God Shows.” It does show when you visit that unique store!”

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Reminiscing with an amusing story that has a fortuitous twist, Dick Pillow wrote: “I read with nostalgia and pleasure your column on old-fashioned typewriters.

“I am an old-timer who was talked into an elective class in high school by my buddy Waylon to take ‘Typewriting 1’. I objected by saying that it was just girls in there – and he said, that was the point . . . lots of contacts. So, I relented and we learned on manual Remingtons.

“We were indeed the only males in the class. The girls and lady instructor at first were shocked, but ended up treating us kindly when they found out we were actually interested and challenged to learn this skill.

“So we buckled down and did everything the instructor required of us, and did our very best to obtain the magic number of 55 words a minute. It was a half-semester class and I did get to 51, but could never make it to the 55.

“Anyway, we had such a good time, that we took ‘Typewriting 2’ the next semester to attempt to ‘break’ our records. This was in 1956, by the way, and after about the first couple of weeks, guess what showed up? Beautiful Olivettis, which were ELECTRIC – thank you, Lord!

“By the end of the semester I was at 64 words, I believe, and Waylon, who was always better than me, made it over the 70-mark easily. We both earned good grades and did indeed end up dating a couple of the girls in the class.

“I never realized how important this training was to me until I joined the Navy and after boot camp went to Great Lakes Ill., for electronic school. Before the school was to start, in about six weeks, there were about 180 of us assembled by a grizzled old Chief Petty Officer to be assigned temporary jobs until our schools began.

“He started out by asking if any of us could type and I believe only

four of us raised our hands. He said, ‘Move over here – you will go work in the 9th Naval District Legal Offices as typists. All the rest of you guys will do duty as mess-cooks (same as KP in Army).’

“Our duty in the Legal Dept. was easy with liberty every night and all our weekends free. So I hold dear my time learning to use the typewriter for sure!”

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In closing, what a lovely tribute in a single sentence by the Rev. Lonnie McCowan at the memorial service for Bedford Pinkard, who died two weeks ago at age 88 and whose impact extended far beyond being an Oxnard councilman:

“We’re not here because he died, we’re here because he lived.”

And how he lived – as a “multiplier.”

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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 Kickstarter Front PhotoCheck out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …