Author Archives: Woody

Friend’s Picture Worth 1,000 Smiles

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

*

Friend’s Picture is

Worth 1,000 smiles

In the late 1960s, World Tennis Magazine held a contest offering $100 to any of its readers who sent in a photograph of Ken Rosewall where his knees were not bent in textbook form while hitting a low ball.

The magazine might as well have offered prize money for a picture of a man walking on the moon. Neil Armstrong eventually made such a photo a reality in 1969, but it seems no image of the great Australian stiff-leggedly striking a tennis ball was ever snapped.

I bring this up because a similar contest could be held offering $100 (safe from risk of payment) for a smileless photograph of my friend Mikey, who lived four rooms down the dorm hallway our freshman year in college.

Every oddly tinted Kodachrome picture of Mikey from those days shows him wearing a smile that looks like it is his 21st birthday. Nothing has changed in the ensuing four decades. His ever-present joyous grin, now captured digitally, remains as wide as a tennis court.

I wish you could see Mikey’s smile, most especially when he is with one of his grandkids – you almost need to wear sunglasses to protect your eyes from the glint.

I dare say it is possible to hear Mikey’s smile in a conversation over the phone. Earlier this week, I could even sense his smile in a text. This was truly remarkable because he texted me from the Emergency Room…

…where he was a patient…

…with COVOID-19.

Mikey was admitted to the E.R. with a high fever, coughing, aches that felt like he had been hit by a bus, confusion and low blood pressure. On top of all that, he is high-risk with only one kidney.

Despite being in the vortex of a frightening health storm, Mikey wanted to share some sunshine with me. His words from the E.R. read in part: “Everyone that picked up a meal was soooo appreciative, saying thanks for looking out for our community. Many other restaurants are also giving away meals. … People care.”

Mikey cares in spades. Despite nervously waiting for his coronavirus test result to come back, he was focused on those who had to evacuate their homes due to the 600-plus wildfires raging throughout Northern California.

Specifically, he was worried about fellow citizens in the Bay Area where he lives and the Napa Valley where he owns a restaurant. Hence, his Osprey Seafood gave free meals to anyone who was displaced by the fires. It also donated many pounds of shrimp salad to the local Salvation Army.

Typically, Mikey humbly credited his manager and staff for embracing the effort to extend helping hands: “This is just what we do for each other in Napa. Through earthquakes, fires and flooding, Napa rises for each other.”

His words of commendation naturally reminded me of how Ventura County’s residents similarly rose up for each other during, and after, the Thomas Fire.

Like Mikey’s smile, the recent unselfishness displayed by Osprey Seafood and staff is their normal. For many years, they have donated to firefighters during firestorms.

“I am most proud of our community for coming together time and again,” Mikey added and again I proudly thought of our local community.

Thinking of Mikey, or looking at a smiling photo of him – with long, ginger curls of the past or shorter, graying hair now – I find it impossible not to break into a grin myself. He’s the Typhoid Mary of smiles by making them contagious.

So you can imagine my beaming face upon learning my dear friend is back home recuperating.

 *   *   *

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” …

 

The Mail Carrier, Mule, and Gum

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

*

The Mail Carrier,

the Mule, and Gum

“Did you get the letter I mailed you?” Dan, my best friend throughout elementary school, would ask unsuspecting victims.

“No,” came the reply.

Dan then stamped on their foot, laughing: “I must have forgotten to stamp it!”

I bring up this juvenile joke because of a letter I received earlier this week. Actually, it was a letter I mailed last week and was now marked “Returned to Sender” for lack of postage. I absentmindedly forgot to stamp it!

While I did not stamp on my own foot, I did laugh as heartily as Dan ever did.

A postal wagon similar to the one “Unc” used…

The U.S. Postal Service has been in the news of late, but not for merry reasons. Which is too bad because when I think of the mail it gives me a smile as I am reminded of my great uncle, Dewitt, whom we called simply “Unc.”

Born in rural Ohio in 1889, Unc began working for the Postal Service at age twenty and continued until age 65. He then enjoyed 31 years of retirement filled largely with fishing and gardening.

A quick gardening story before returning to the mail. While my great-grandfather developed a state award-winning strain of feed corn, Unc earned a smaller measure of local fame for his green thumb.

It happened like this. Instead of using wooden stakes for his garden beans to climb, Unc planted a single sunflower seed inside each circle of planted bean seeds. In theory, he reasoned, the beans would be able to climb the rising sunflower stalk.

In practice, the beans withered and died because the sunflowers hogged the water and fertilizer. Not all was lost, however, for Unc was thereafter renowned for growing “the tallest crop of sunflowers in town.”

Back to the mail. Unc began his postal career working on a train. His duties included tossing heavy canvas mailbags filled with letters and packages for delivery off the moving train at each town.

In his next breath, while still rolling along, he would reach out the window with a hook-ended pole and snatch mailbags containing outgoing mail hanging on posts beside the railroad tracks at each depot.

In time, Unc moved up to having his own carrier route covering some forty miles with about 80 delivery stops. Early on his mail wagon, which had a small stove inside to provide warmth during days of sleet and snow, was pulled by a single mule.

Because his workday began long before morning’s first light with mail sorting, Unc had a habit of dozing off after making the final delivery of the day. Falling asleep at the wheel – rather, reins – proved to be of no danger, however. The mule was so familiar with the mail route it simply delivered Unc home without guidance.

Refreshed from his nap, Unc was free to enjoy the remaining late afternoon – usually fishing. Which brings to mind one more story…

My two older brothers and I – ages nine, seven and four at the time – were fishing with Unc. It was a hot summer day and we asked for a root beer treat.

“Chew some gum, that’ll take your thirst away,” said Unc, who had not brought along sodas.

Nor had we boys brought along any bubblegum.

“Here, chew this,” Unc offered, handing my brothers a piece each while I had fortunately wandered off chasing frogs.

“GAHHH! YUCK! PHEWWW!”

My green-faced siblings spit out their words as well as the foul-tasting “gum” which was actually tiny plugs of chewing tobacco.

“They didn’t complain no more about being thirsty,” Unc laughed to my dad when he delivered us home.

 *   *   *

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” …

 

Potpourri of Quotes, Memes, Photos

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

*

Potpourri of Quotes,

Memes and Photos

Let me begin with an award-winning photograph I came across. I wish you could see it. While 1,000 words would not do it justice, I shall try with about 100.

A majestic elephant, long in tusk, is walking alongside a skinny lioness on a sandy patch in the Savannah. The sky is blue and cloudless, visually radiating scorching temperatures.

But one must look closely to see what makes the photo so special: cradled in elephant’s curved trunk is a tiny lion cub. According to the caption, the cub was overcome by heat and having great difficulty walking. The elephant, realizing the cub would die without assistance, carried it to a watering hole.

*

The elephant and lioness remind me of this observation by John Steinbeck: “When two people meet, each one is changed by the other so you’ve got two new people.”

*

From my mentor Wayne Bryan: “If you can give nothing else, give encouragement.”

*

A meme with a runner slogging through a snowstorm encourages: “If you wait for perfect conditions, you’ll never get anything done.”

*

Similarly, and more beautifully, a meme with a painting of a woman tending a bed of flowers bears this Rudyard Kipling quote: “Gardens are not made by singing, ‘Oh, how beautiful,’ and sitting in the shade.”

*

“Never give up on a dream just because of the length of time it will take to accomplish it,” advised H. Jackson Brown. “The time will pass anyway.”

*

Echoing time’s theme, I love this answer legendary cellist Pablo Casals gave when asked, at age 90, why he continued to practice: “Because I think I’m making progress.”

*

Again from Mr. Brown: “Remember that the most valuable antiques are dear old friends.”

*

This unattributed friendship meme made me smile: “What’s your favorite place?”

“I don’t have a favorite place. I have my favorite people. And, whenever I’m with my favorite people, it becomes my favorite place.”

*

Similarly, Winnie the Pooh shares with Piglet: “Any day spent with you is my favorite day. So today is my new favorite day.”

*

“This is a wonderful day,” Maya Angelou said. “I have never seen this one before.”

*

From “butterfly rising”, who like e. e. cummings writes in all lowercase letters, comes this gem: “if i do one thing today / may i be human sunshine / for someone”.

*

Speaking of human sunshine, my dear friend Connie “Mrs. Figs” Halpern likes to say, “Where there is love, nothing is too much trouble and there is always time.”

*

Anonymous wisdom in a sunflower meme: “You will never speak to anyone more than you speak to yourself in your head, so be kind to yourself.”

*

On the topic of kindness, I came across this short but powerful vignette without attribution:

“I heard my mother asking our neighbor for some salt. I asked her why she was asking them as we have salt at home. She replied, ‘It’s because they are always asking us for things – they’re poor. So, I thought I’d ask something small from them so as not to burden them, but at the same time make them feel as if we need them, too. That way it’ll be easier for them to ask us for anything they need from us.”

*

Or, as Rumi poetically preached: “Be the one who, when you walk in, / Blessing shifts to the one who needs it most. / Even if you’ve not been fed, Be bread.”

 *   *   *

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” …

 

 

Words Add Up To Tin Anniversary

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

*

Words Add Up To

Tin Anniversary

Tin Man is on my mind as I write today’s 600 words.

Not Dorothy’s newfound companion in “The Wizard of Oz”, but rather a homeless man I encountered many years past outside the Rose Bowl Stadium two hours before kickoff. He introduced himself as “Tin Man” even though his shopping cart was overflowing with empty aluminum cans.

I was there to cover the Super Bowl and cannot even remember who played. However, I have never forgotten Tin Man. The record earnings he anticipated from gathering recyclables at tailgate parties would not have bought the cheapest ticket to the big game. Amid princely opulence, he was a pauper.

Why am I thinking of a stranger I shared hot dogs and sodas with nearly three decades ago? Because tin/aluminum is the traditional gift for a 10th anniversary – and today marks that occasion for my column in this Saturday space.

In truth, the official debut date was July 31, 2010. Alas, as with my wedding anniversary a number of years ago, last week I dropped the ball – much like the Buffalo Bills did many times in losing to the Dallas Cowboys, 52-17, in the 1993 Super Bowl. I had to look all of that up.

Despite one fumbled anniversary, my marriage is streaking happily towards 38 years next month. Loyal readers here know I have a thing for streaks, having run at least three miles every day for the past 17 years – 6,243 consecutive days to be precise.

Similarly, my column “streak” stretches back all ten years and now numbers 524 consecutive Saturdays without a miss. Doing the math at 700 words weekly for the first eight years and 600 ever since, this adds up to more than 350,000 words. The tally seems impressive until you realize “War and Peace” comes in at 587,287 words.

Sometimes I feel like I inherited this sacred forum from Tolstoy himself. Chuck Thomas, my predecessor and mentor, was a Star – and star – columnist for half a century. The final time I saw him, Chuck was in the hospital and he joked I should pinch hit for him. He died a couple days later and his words proved prophetic.

How greatly did I look up to Chuck? Perhaps the best answer I can offer is this: his notes and letters are inside the same box that holds penned heirlooms from my idols Jim Murray and John Wooden.

Re-reading those missives from Chuck, who uniquely and affectionately called me “Wooder”, I came across this gem: “If there’s someone whose friendship you treasure, be sure to tell them now – without waiting for a memorial service to say it.”

I remain grateful I followed this wisdom and told Chuck while he was alive.

Another of his letters, written on a manual typewriter as always, is dated July 12, 1995, and was eerily prescient. Chuck, who started his career in sports, began: “Wooder, What happens to sports columnists? Some of them become old news-page columnists. …”

China is the recognized gift for a 20th anniversary, by which time I would indeed be an old news-page columnist. But even steel to celebrate 11 years seems as distant as the moon. As Jim Murray sagely shared early in my career, “I never look past today’s column.”

Or as Tin Man told me: “We’re all day-to-day and today is a good one.”

Yes, it is. And so, with a full aluminum can in hand, I raise a toast to my tin anniversary; and to Chuck Thomas; and to the two of his “three loyal readers” I have managed to keep.

 *   *   *

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” …

 

 

In ‘Fair’ World, It’d Be Smiling Time

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

*

In a ‘Fair’ World, It

Would Be Smiling Time

A John Mellencamp song comes to my mind every summer at this time. Titled “County Fair” it takes a dark and depressing turn, yet one bright lyric sticks in my heart and makes me smile:

“Kids with eyes as big as dollars / Rode all the rides”.

That, in a single image, sums up the Ventura County Fair to me – kids having their thrills riding carousels and roller coasters, trains and the Tilt-a-Whirl and, of course, slow turns on the giant Ferris wheel with its seagull eye’s view of the ocean and Ventura Pier and city below.

Sadly, a new Fair Poster for 2020 was not to be.

George Washington Gale Ferris, Jr.’s famous invention debuted at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Remarkably, that was actually 18 years after the debut of the Ventura County Fair.

Our 145th edition was scheduled to have opened its gates yesterday, July 31. Because of coronavirus, however, some 300,000 smiles have been cancelled and the turnstiles will dutifully remain locked. Like you, I am disappointed.

I had planned to take my young granddaughter to her first Fair this year. Instead of making new memories with her, I must be content with reminiscing about two other little girls with eyes as big as dollars.

The first girl, then 5, went to her first Fair alone with her father. Her biggest thrill that afternoon was riding the Ferris wheel. On their drive home, as her father retells it, she could be heard softly whispering to herself, “Ferris wheel, Ferris wheel, Ferris wheel,” so as not to forget the name.

Arriving home, the girl – now my wife – raced inside and excitedly told her mom: “I rode the merry-go-round!”

A second Ferris wheel memory was captured in a photograph that remains one of my favorites of my own little girl. It is in black-and-white, taken candidly by a Star photographer before newspapers became colorful, and hangs in a gold frame in her childhood bedroom.

Frozen in time nearly three decades past, she is 4 years old and my arm is wrapped around her as we ride the Ferris wheel. It was her first time at the Ventura County Fair and she will tell you it is one of her earliest vivid memories. I imagine most adults remember similar childhood Fair magic.

The Fair still makes kids of us all. If not the rides, then the exhibits or games or concerts still give us eyes as big as dollars. The Fair is a time machine. For 12 days each summer, we turn back the calendar.

Our Fair roared back after World War II, the last time it was cancelled, and it will do likewise after this war with COVID-19 ends. For now, sadly, the win-a-stuffed-animal games and whirling rides are on hold.

The chocolate-covered, deep-fried, bacon-filled food concoctions are on hold, as are the amazing exhibits of paintings and photographs, quilts and cakes, flowers and plants. The mini-pigs and giant rabbits the size of bulldogs and 4-H livestock auctions are also on hold.

In short, being a silver dollar-eyed 4-year-old, no matter one’s true age, is on hold.

Mellencamp’s song concludes as it opened: “Well the County Fair left quite a mess / In the county yard.” It is a lyric that carries extra melancholy this year since there will be no tents to fold, no rides to take down, no happy mess left behind.

And no new memories left behind, either.

However, since legend has it that Babe Ruth once played an exhibition baseball game at this very Seaside Park site, the late-season motto of sad-but-hopeful baseball fans seems in order: “Wait ’til next year!”

 *   *   *

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” …

 

One City Can Become Any City

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

*

One City Can Become

Any City, Every City

Even though my column runs on the Opinion page, I generally try to keep it a retreat from politics and controversies and instead provide a smile, a laugh, some sunshine among the clouds.

Today is an exception. Today is thunder and lightning.

John Lewis, the legendary civil rights leader who died eight days ago, famously said: “When you see something that is not right, not fair, not just, you have to speak up.”

What we have seen happening in Portland, Oregon, is not right, not fair, not just. In honor of Lewis, I have to speak up.

American citizens being snatched off sidewalks by unidentified federal forces in unmarked vans and not told why nor where they are being taken, is not right.

“A Wall of Moms” being tear-gassed while peacefully trying to protect Black Lives Matter protesters from federal forces, camouflaged and armed as if for war, is not fair.

Peacefully protesting “Wall of Moms” being tear-gassed by federal agents in Portland.

A 52-year-old United States Navy veteran standing as still as a statue while being pepper sprayed in the face and having a semi-automatic weapon pointed at his chest and then being repeatedly beaten with batons by federal agents, their home-run swings so powerful as to break a bone in his hand as well as a finger so badly it required surgery, is not just.

Indeed, using excessive police force against citizens who are protesting police brutality is ironic and tragic. Understand, this was a man who has bravely served this country, not a rioter. The video of his beating resembles the newsreels showing John Lewis being violently billy clubbed nearly to death by a state trooper during a civil rights march in Selma, Ala., more than half a century ago.

How very little has changed in so long a time.

There are those who will label me a liberal (rightly so) and broadly label the Portland protesters (wrongly so) “rioters”, “looters” and “anarchists.” In turn, they argue the heavy-handed force is merited.

Such callousness is where the slope gets slippery, grows steeper, becomes a point of no return.

As Martin Niemöller famously wrote in 1946: “First they came for the Communists / And I did not speak out / Because I was not a Communist / Then they came for the Socialists / And I did not speak out / Because I was not a Socialist / Then they came for the trade unionists / And I did not speak out / Because I was not a trade unionist / Then they came for the Jews / And I did not speak out / Because I was not a Jew / Then they came for me / And there was no one left / To speak out for me.”

Those who support the current deployment of what has been called “secret police” and “American Gestapo” should be every bit as fearful by what is happening as are those who support the protesters. After all, Portland can become Plano; a “blue” city can become a “red” city; any city can become every city.

Indeed, we must all heed Niemöller’s warning. Black Lives Matter supporters being beaten with batons and gassed and pulled off the streets without justification today can tomorrow become open-carry defenders rounded up without warrant; “they” and “he” can become “us” and “me.”

The uniformed officers, politicians and others who enacted similar violence in the name of our government against John Lewis and his heroic peers as they practiced civil disobedience have not been remembered kindly by history. Today will be no different.

We all need to speak out for each other. Now.

 *   *   *

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” …

 

Doubleheader of Baseball Tales

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

*

Doubleheader of

Baseball Tales

Major League Baseball’s 2020 All-Star Game was to have been held at Dodger Stadium this past Tuesday, but coronavirus called it out on strikes. As consolation, here is a doubleheader of baseball stories.

The first is told by the great Vin Scully in the Introduction pages of “The Jim Murray Collection”:

“The Brooklyn Dodgers had lost a bitter one-run game to the New York Giants at Ebbets Field. As fate would have it, Jackie Robinson was involved in a very close play at second base for the final out, and he was steaming.

“Even though most, if not all, of his teammates felt he had been rightfully called out, Jackie was hollering at the top of his lungs about the unfair call, punctuating every steamy sentence by hurling furniture, equipment, and anything else he found handy into his locker.

“Now to really get the picture you have to understand the home-team clubhouse in Brooklyn. The pecking order and star status on the team placed big-name players’ lockers near the front door. Gil Hodges, Peewee Reese, Roy Campanella, Preacher Roe, Duke Snider, and Jackie were prominently displayed.

“After that, according to rank, a player was assigned a locker that befit his status on the team. In the farthest corner of the room, near the showers and the icebox that held the beer and soft drinks, was the locker of a somewhat obscure pitcher named Dan Bankhead. The fans didn’t know much about ’ol Dan, but his teammates did. Bankhead was not one to waste words and when he did have something to say, he had the immediate attention of all concerned.

“On this day as Robinson ranted and raved and hurled his bootless cries to the heavens, his was the only sound heard in the room. In the far corner Bankhead sprawled off the stool in front of his cubicle, naked but for a towel across his loins, hands folded at his stomach and reading glasses perched precariously at the end of his nose. Right in the middle of Robinson’s harangue Bankhead said softly, “Robinson…”

Jackie stopped in mid-sentence, adverbs and adjectives hanging in the air like wisps of smoke.

“Robinson,” said Bankhead, now that he had complete silence in the room. “Robinson … you are not only wrong … you is loud wrong.”

“Jackie stood and stared at ol’ Dan for a moment, and then his handsome features broke into a wide grin. The storm had passed, the point taken, and the wisdom received.”

I bring this tale up on account of different harangue going on these days that merits a Bankhead-like response: “Hey, you all who refuse to wear face masks during this coronavirus pandemic, you are not only wrong, you is loud wrong. Let’s all wear masks for each other and get through this storm.”

The second story comes from a friend who works a side job as a baseball umpire:

“I was driving too fast in the snow in Boulder, Colorado,” Dave related, “and a policeman pulled me over and gave me a speeding ticket. I tried to talk him out of it, telling him how worried I was about my insurance and that I was normally a very careful driver.

“He said I should go to court and try to get it reduced or thrown out.

“The first day of the next baseball season, I’m umpiring behind home plate and the first batter up is the same policeman. I recognize him, he recognizes me. He asks me how the thing went with the ticket?

“I tell him, ‘Swing at everything.’ ”

 *   *   *

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” …

Retired Teacher Still Giving Lessons

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

*

Retired Teacher Is

Still Giving Lessons

The threat of a ruler rapped across her knuckles was nearly required, but I eventually got a long-ago student at St. Genevieve High School to share her recent story of kindness as a retired teacher.

“I don’t need recognition,” said Marie, who insisted I not identify her further. “I feel like so many teachers do things for their students, not just me. I try to live my life the way my parents did in giving of themselves.”

Her parents taught Marie well, as exemplified by this fresh email from a former student:

“Hi Mrs. (Marie)!

“I received your letter in the mail! Thank you so much for the heartwarming message and for the $10. I shall use it wisely! Maybe something I can put in my dorm room in the future to remember you! Not that I need something to do that. I am just so touched. That $10 bill is worth more than $10 to me.

“Again, thank you for the lovely letter. It was an amazing surprise and you had the most perfect timing. It cheered me up when I was feeling particularly sad about graduation. Knowing that I have your support and that I’m in your thoughts comforts me!

Stay safe and healthy! I hope you’re doing well!!

“Love, Ellen.”

Should anyone take exception with Cornell-bound Ellen’s free use of exclamation marks, know that Ernest Hemingway, no less, was known to use three !!! in a row when writing personal letters.

Marie taught Math, not English Literature, for nearly four decades, including her final 28 years in Ventura County. She retired three years ago.

“I loved what I did for so many years,” she says. “I miss it.”

In choosing her career path, Marie followed in the esteemed footsteps of Sister Joanne who was her high school Math teacher in the San Fernando Valley. Sister Joanne is now in her 90s and living in New Jersey, but the two remain in contact.

“I would often tell my students about her because she was the best,” Marie says. “Once, she told me that she remembered exactly where I sat in class and told me she could always count on me when it came to proofs. What a memory. She made me think I need to keep in touch with my kids.”

Like a boomerang, the notes Marie sends out often come flying back carrying updates about her students’ lives. This year, realizing the overwhelming disappointment caused by COVID-19, especially to 2020 graduating seniors, Marie decided to redouble her efforts.

“I had former students who had to leave their colleges,” Marie notes. “No goodbyes to friends; missed internships; had to go home and quarantine. It’s sad.”

Hence, she searched out mailing addresses and sent a blizzard of cards. What did she write inside?

“I basically told kids I knew this wasn’t the senior year and graduation they expected – missing prom, trips, barbeques, parties,” Marie shares, “but that their next graduation would be different.

“I told them I am so proud of them and know they will go far in life,” Marie went on. “And I know this is only a little bump in the road. I included a few dollars just as a small gift. It’s just something I wanted to do. To me, it’s all about kindness.”

Responses like Ellen’s have been the norm. Student after student has told their former teacher how much her card cheered them up and made them feel appreciated to know that someone was thinking about their trying situations.

Old educators don’t retire, they just teach new lessons.

 *   *   *

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” …

Balloons Filled with Wisdom, Love

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

*

Balloons Filled with

Wisdom and Love

Selfishness may not be on the rise, but it sometimes seems that is the case. It therefore seems timely to share an unattributed story my friend Larry Baratte sent me shortly before his death, which I have rewritten for brevity.

An elementary school teacher asked the children in all grades to each blow up a balloon and then write his or her name on it. The inflated balloons were tossed into the hallway and mixed around thoroughly.

The teacher then set a timer for five minutes and instructed the students to find the balloon with their own name on it. On the word “Go!” the children ran around helter-skelter looking for their own balloon.

When time ran out, not a single child had succeeded.

Now the teacher told them, wherever they were standing, to grab the balloon nearest them and personally give it to the person whose name was on it. In less than two minutes, everyone had their own balloon.

“Balloons are like happiness,” the teacher explained, “no one will find it very quickly by looking for theirs only.”

That wisdom bookends nicely with another email I received recently. It quoted a group of children, ages 4 to 8, who were asked: “What does love mean?” Their answers are as uplifting as helium balloons.

“When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.” – Billy, age 4.

“Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries.” – Chrissy, age 6.

“When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis, too. That’s love.” – Rebecca, age 8.

“Love is what makes you smile when you’re tired.” – Terri, age 4.

“Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.” – Karl, age 5.

“Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt and then he wears it every day.” – Noelle, age 7.

“Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.” – Elaine, age 5.

“Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and just listen.” – Bobby, age 7.

“If you want to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate.” – Nikka, age 6.

“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.” – Tommy, age 6.

“During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn’t scared anymore.” – Cindy, age 8.

“Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.” – Mary Ann, age 4.

“My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don’t see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.” – Clare, age 6.

“When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.” – Karen, age 7.

“Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him to make sure the taste is okay.” – Danny, age 8.

“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.” – Jessica, age 8.

In other words, like happiness, love is like a balloon – you won’t find it by looking only for your own.

*   *   *

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” …

Acts of Kindness Are Real Gift

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

*

Acts of Kindness

Are a Real Gift

I had big plans for a recent milestone birthday.

But like everyone else with grand occasions to celebrate in 2020, Coronavirus had other ideas. Thoughts of a local microbrewery filled to overflowing turned as flat as warm, day-old beer.

Life, however, is full of bubbly surprises. I casually asked friends and family, since we could not get together, to do random acts of kindness as a gift to me. Here are a few of the ribbons and bows…

Vicki brought in her neighbor’s trashcans in 90-degree heat and added: “It felt so good I did a few more houses down, too!”

Her deed provided a bonus smile because it made me think of my late friend, Sparky Anderson, who used to walk through his neighborhood and move trash barrels from the curb up the driveways. “It don’t cost you nothing at all to be nice,” he told me in explanation.

Susan checked in on the health and needs of some elderly friends.

Trudy hand wrote a card to an old high school friend “letting her know that my memories and moments with her were some of my best.”

Ronna addressed postcards to get out the vote for mail-in voting.

Ed went shopping and delivered the groceries to his senior neighbor.

Rebecca similarly went “shopping for friends during this pandemic.”

Michele was another Samaritan shopper, making a Costco run for three seniors and also picked lemons for a friend who is on unemployment and quarantined with four kids.

Tim, knowing how much I love books and libraries and kids, bought a bunch of children’s books for a Little Free Library.

Bill phoned two friends who are fighting cancer.

Carrie said, “I am too shy to share what I did, but it made my day to hear that it really helped!” Her secret surprise made my day, too.

Margaret put out a basket of snacks on the front porch for her postal carrier and UPS drivers.

Barbara did a similar kindness for her garbage man and shared at length: “I was on my porch when my refuse company truck pulled up and mechanically dumped the contents of one of my receptacles into the truck. The driver stopped for a moment longer and I saw him pour water into a towel and wrap it around his neck. It was very hot and I felt for him.

“While he finished up in my cul-de-sac, I went inside and got an ice-cold can of ginger ale from my fridge. When he returned the other direction in front of my house, I walked over and gestured for him to roll down his window.

“I asked if he would like a cold drink and told him how much I appreciated how hard he was working, especially in the heat and during this pandemic. I was shocked to see tears well up in his eyes as he took the can and thanked me.”

She later added a postscript: “Ever since that day, he honks as he passes if I am outside and we share a wave and two big smiles!”

Two more big smiles. First from Kathleen, who put Mother Teresa’s famous words – “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one” – into action by delivering a homemade dinner of chicken cacciatore with pasta to her neighbor in my honor.

Lastly, a dear childhood friend of mine and her husband turned Mother Teresa’s inspiring sentence backwards by feeding not one, but 750 people, with a donation to Food Share of Ventura County.

It was indeed a masterpiece birthday.

*   *   *

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” …