Monthly Archives: February 2020

Readers Share Cookies and Sunrises

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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Column Readers Share

Cookies And Sunrises

            Judging from my flooded email in-box, I am far from alone in being a pushover for Girl Scouts selling Tagalong and Shortbread cookies.

Diane Hunn, among others, shared: “I did a very similar thing with the little Brownie up the street from me. I was only going to purchase two boxes. But I only had $20’s from the ATM – and two boxes turned into eight!”

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Jane Rozanski related a heartwarming experience her granddaughter Juliana had.

“One early evening, a few years ago, Juliana (then 9 years old and a Brownie), her younger sister Tessa, their Daddy and their golden-doodle Rose packed up their little red wagon and went door to door to sell the cookies.

“Somewhere, on the way home, Juliana’s Hello Kitty wallet fell out of the wagon and she lost $150! They backtracked to look for it, but to no avail! Juliana made ‘Lost’ signs and they placed them around the neighborhood and her Daddy called the police to report the loss.

“The officers felt so bad for her that they passed the hat and collected $165 – and dropped by the house to give it to her!

“The next day, Juliana received a call from a mother whose 15-year-old daughter, also a Girl Scout, had found the wallet and they would drop it by!

“Juliana decided to return the $165 that the officers had collected – plus give them 30 boxes of cookies. So they packed up their wagon and they all dropped by the station to surprise the officers!”

A gorgeous “Pajama Sunset” in Ventura…

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Meanwhile, my friend Jim McCoskey takes the cake, so to speak, by buying all 66 boxes a Girl Scout had left to the tune of $330!

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John Watts sent this gem echoing my column on sunsets and the importance of perspective:

“There once was a woman who woke up, looked in the mirror, and noticed that she only had three hairs on her head. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I think I’ll braid my hair today!’ So she did, and she had a wonderful day.

“The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head. ‘Hmm,’ she said, ‘I think I’ll part my hair down the middle today!’ So she did, and she had a grand day.

“The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘today I’m going to wear my hair in a pony tail!’ So she did, and she had a fun, fun day.

“The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn’t a single hair on her head. ‘Yeah!’ she exclaimed, ‘I don’t have to fix my hair today!’

“Attitude is everything.”

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Lastly, an email from my sister-in-law, Kay, who shared a story of my late mom I had never heard before. As background, before my dad’s house was lost in the Thomas Fire, Kay lived a short walk away from him.

“When I used to visit your Dad every morning we would often comment on the pretty sunrises. I guess when your parents first married your Mom had some pajamas that had pinks and blues in them – so your Dad and I started calling certain gorgeous mornings a ‘pajama sunrise.’

“I have told my three girls the story and now we often comment on ‘pajama SUNSETS’ because they are never around to see the sunrise with me!

“So next time you see the sky in various shades of pink and blue, your Mom may be wearing her pajamas!”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check 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” …

George Washington At My Keyboard

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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George Washington

Fills In At My Keyboard

 Dear readers and fellow countrymen, I cannot tell a lie, most especially on George Washington’s February 22 birth date: I wanted to take the day off from the keyboard.

Hence, our nation’s first president is ghostwriting my column with his own famous words.

While Washington was no Ben Franklin, or “Poor Richard” for that matter, when it comes to witticisms, “The Father of His Country” was nonetheless the father of countless quotes of wisdom and inspiration. To be sure, his words penned by quill lose no value when retyped on a computer keyboard.

To begin, this maxim comes from the very end of Washington’s “110 Rules of Civility & Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation” which he wrote down at age 16: “Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.”

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“Leave nothing for tomorrow which can be done today.”

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“Happiness depends more upon the internal frame of a person’s own mind, than on the externals in the world.”

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“Worry is the interest paid by those who borrow trouble.”

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“Associate yourself with men of good quality, if you esteem your own reputation; for ’tis better to be alone than in bad company.”

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“A sensible woman can never be happy with a fool.”

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“True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to appellation. ”

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“A slender acquaintance with the world must convince every man that actions, not words, are the true criterion of the attachment of friends.”

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“Undertake not what you cannot Perform but be Careful to keep your Promise.”

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“It is better to offer no excuse than a bad one” and, similarly: “99% of failures come from people who make excuses.”

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“Decision making, like coffee, needs a cooling process.”

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“We should not look back unless it is to derive useful lessons from past errors, and for the purpose of profiting by dearly bought experience. ”

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“Put not another bit into your mouth till the former be swallowed. Let not your morsels be too big for the jowls.”

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“Perseverance and spirit have done wonders in all ages.”

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“Speak not evil of the absent, for it is unjust.”

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“Let your heart feel for the afflictions and distress of everyone, and let your hand give in proportion to your purse.”

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“The turning points of lives are not the great moments. The real crises are often concealed in occurrences so trivial in appearance that they pass unobserved.”

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“The harder the conflict, the greater the triumph.”

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“How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant of the weak and the strong. Because someday in life you will have been all of these.”

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“Be courteous to all.”

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“To encourage literature and the arts is a duty which every good citizen owes to his country.”

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“I conceive a knowledge of books is the basis upon which other knowledge is to be built.”

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Finally, let me close with this maxim I found not in a book, but searching online: “ ‘The Internet is full of many false and unverified quotes.’ – George Washington.”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check 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” …

It’s Girl Scouts Cookie Time!

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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Unwelcomed Solicitors,

and Two Welcomed Ones

If you are like me, you have too many salespeople knocking on your front door.

Solar panels, cable TV and satellite services, house painting and more are all pitched. “We can save you money,” they say.

And: “We just installed (fill-in-the-product) for your neighbors and knew we’d be doing you a favor by interrupting your dinner to let you know!”

I try to be polite with my “No, thanks” although the other day I fell short.

The incident occurred shortly after we had a drought-resistant landscape completed in our front “yard.” Featuring a cornucopia of cactuses, succulents, flowers, a new tree, and a dry riverbed of rock, I half-expect a photographer for “Sunset” magazine to ring our doorbell.

Instead, it was a solicitor asking if I wanted him to mow our lawn.

“You just walked past that desert landscaping – do you see any grass?” I asked, sarcasm dripping at a far heavier flow than the new underground irrigation system.

On rare occasions, however, I do welcome a salesperson at my door. Specifically, this time of year when it’s a Girl Scout hawking cookies.

While I’m still waiting for this year’s annual Samoas and Tagalongs sales calls, let me share a memorable visit from a year past. Two or three Girl Scouts, each more adorable than the previous, had already capitalized on my sweet tooth. After nineteen years in the same house, I think the young green-vested army knows I’m a pushover.

Early one evening yet another Thin Mints-selling soldier came knocking. Surprisingly, however, it was a boy selling Girl Scout Cookies.

As if reading my mind, he told me he wasn’t a Girl Scout but his sister was. He was helping her because this was the last day of sales and she hadn’t reached her goal.

“She fell off her skateboard and hurt her hands,” the boy explained.

Perhaps it was a con and I was being played for a sucker, but I nevertheless excused myself to retrieve my wallet. When I returned, the brother had been joined by his sister.

Not only was the skateboard injury real, it was fresh. “It happened today,” she told me, holding out both hands, palms up. Each was badly skinned and looked painful.

I learned that she was 12 and her brother 9. Even better, I learned they were “best friends” according to him and she nodded in agreement.

I glanced over their shoulders at their mother waiting watchfully in the car and called out: “You must be very proud of these two.”

She smiled so widely it was like she shouted, “Yes, of course I am! Thank you!”

I asked the sister and her tagalong – actually, I suppose it was the other way around in this instance – how much the cookies cost, forgetting from my earlier orders that they are $5 each.

I requested two boxes, but after pulling out a $20 bill thought the better of it and said: “Make it four boxes.”

Simultaneously they nearly sang: “Four boxes, really?”

I wish you could have seen the joy on their shining faces. If you had, you would understand why I had third thoughts and added a fifth box of Shortbread to the previous four Samoas.

The bookend smiles widened until they almost touched.

“You know what?” I said, riding their happiness like a surfer on a perfect wave. “Let’s double my order.”

I don’t remember how long it took to finish those 10 boxes of cookies, but I won’t forget that brother and sister. I sure hope they both come knocking on my door again this Girl Scout Cookie season.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check 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” …

Beauty of Sunsets and Perspective

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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The Beauty of Sunsets

and Perspective

High on my Must-See List is to visit Yosemite National Park during mid-February to witness the “Firefall” display when the water falling over Horsetail Fall seems to magically turn into molten iron ore being poured from a foundry kettle.

This natural spectacle, which lasts about a week of evenings, only occurs when the setting sun’s rays strike the falls at a rare and perfect angle.

While I have not yet seen this trick of light in person, in a way I feel have. After all, I have witnessed countless magical sunsets on our Gold Coast that seem painted by Monet using a palette of flames; mixed oils of reds, golds and oranges.

One such sunset occurred recently and, as usual, social media was ablaze with postings of gorgeous photos snapped by locals. In the comments section, my reply was always the same: “Ho-hum, another Ventura sunset.”

If you live here you will understand my sarcasm. As if one would shrug their shoulders unimpressed while gazing at the Mona Lisa. Indeed, our sunsets are masterpieces of nature. They are like Giant Redwoods – no matter how many such majestic trees you see in a forest, each is individually breathtaking.

The magical sunsets off Ventura’s coast are second-to-none.

To illuminate my point further, let me share a story from a Thanksgiving vacation in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, that my wife and I spent several years ago with her extended side of the family.

Each evening, like most everyone else staying at the resort, we would gather on the beach to watch the sun dissolve into the Pacific Ocean.

“Oooh!” said some with enthusiasm.

“Ahhh!” and “Gorgeous!” others in the chorus sang.

My wife and I remained silent and unmoved.

Perspective is everything. Sure, the Puerto Vallarta sunsets were nice and fine, but in our eyes the Golden Hour was fool’s gold. For starters, the sun sank into a plain horizon. There was no contrast – no Channel Islands – to add brushstrokes of dimension.

Furthermore, because the sky remained cloudless the heavens did not catch fire as happens on our Gold Coast. It was like watching the black-and-white portions of “The Wizard of Oz” compared to the film’s Technicolor scenes.

Not wishing to be sunset snobs, my wife and I kept our critical reviews quiet. Alone, however, we were like old Hollywood actors complaining of modern talent: “In our day, we had movie stars!”

Us: “In Ventura, we have sunsets!”

During the most recent Firefall-like sunset here, I was running at a park as late afternoon began its metamorphosis into evening, turning from a brown caterpillar into a kaleidoscopic butterfly. To be honest, I was blind to the wondrous show taking place.

My spirits were down and so were my eyes. Arthritis in my neck, which required disc-fusion surgery 17 years ago after my car was crushed by a speeding drunk driver, had been acting up worse than usual. Not yet 60, my cervical spine seems to belong to a 90-year-old.

Thus, too stiff on this day to look around to-and-fro, my focus remained steely eyed on the ground a few strides ahead. Then everything changed.

“Wow!” came a voice from a passerby going the other direction. “Look at that sky!”

My eyes lifted as directed and my spirits followed at once. Stopping in my tracks, I admired the Firefall colors being amplified with each passing moment.

Additionally, my dose of self-pity fell away like water over a falls. You see, the man who had awakened me to this pyrotechnic display of nature does his exercise loops around the park in a wheelchair. Suddenly, my sore neck seemed inconsequential.

Perspective is everything, isn’t it?

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check 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” …

Imagining Kobe’s Lost Tomorrows

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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Kobe’s Tomorrows

That Will Never Come

Four times Kobe Bryant held a newborn daughter when she first came into the world, as it should be for a father.

Last Sunday, as it never should be for any daddy, he held one of his girls – 13-year-old Gianna – as she left this world.

At least that is how I imagine the final moments, perhaps mere seconds, transpired as the helicopter carrying Kobe, Gianna and seven other living souls fatally crashed in the morning, in the fog, into a Calabasas hillside.

I imagine that, if the seatbelts allowed, Kobe leaned over and wrapped his long, strong arms around his precious daughter and held her tight in the hands that used to powerfully dunk a basketball.

I imagine this not out of morbidity, but because my heart wishes to believe it. Tenderness before the tragedy.

I imagine, if there was time as the unspeakable horror unfolded, Kobe spoke: “I love you, Gigi.” And I imagine, even through terrified tears, she said: “I love you, Daddy.”

Kobe Bryant and daughter Gianna

I imagine that as he hugged Gianna, Kobe hoped – no, prayed, for he was a religious man – his 41-year-old body would superhumanly serve as a shield to save his little girl.

If there was more time, or perhaps a few seconds impossibly slowed seemingly into years, a million memories flashed through Kobe’s mind. If so, I imagine none of them were of his two decades of supernova greatness in the NBA; not his five NBA titles and two Olympic gold medals; not his 81-point night or career farewell 60-point performance; not his singular honor of having two Lakers jersey numbers – 8 and 24 – retired.

No, I imagine Kobe’s earthly farewell memories would have been of his wife, Vanessa, and their four daughters: Natalia, 17; Gianna; Bianka, 3; and Capri, born last summer. Perhaps he recalled the couple’s first date; saw the girls’ first smiles, first words, first steps; relived his last kisses from all five.

I imagine similar image collages for the other victims: for John Altobelli, 56, his wife Keri, 46, and their daughter Alyssa, 13; for Sarah Chester, 45, and her daughter Payton, 13; for Christina Mauser, 38; and for pilot Ara Zobayan, 50. I cannot fathom the measure of bereavement felt by their loved ones.

Nor can I imagine the grief of Vanessa, losing a child and a husband; of Natalia losing her younger sister and her dad; Bianka losing one of her big sisters and her dad; Capri losing both a big sister and a dad she will never know.

I imagine in a blur of memories, Kobe saw his girls’ birthday parties and Christmas mornings past; saw his honeymoon and family vacations; maybe saw his younger self teaching his girls to swim or ride bikes.

Too, surely, the relived images would have included shooting hoops with his three oldest daughters – basketball was still in the future for infant Capri.

Ah, the future. I imagine also, if there were enough final fractions of time, tomorrows that will never come for Kobe flashed before his eyes – reading bedtime stories to Capri; taking Bianka for ice cream; cheering for Gianna in a WNBA game; walking Natalia down the church aisle and then doing so with Gianna and Bianka and Capri; Vanessa and he becoming grandparents.

Perhaps, even, Kobe imagined his girls-turned-women squeezing his hand on his distant deathbed because that’s how it should be – daughters, and sons, should hold their fathers when they leave the world. Not the other way around.

Heartbreakingly, but lovingly, I imagine Kobe indeed had one of his four daughters holding his hand as he left this world.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check 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” …