Turning Page on a Novel Year

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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

Page-Turners Before Turning Page on 2018

            Like a marathoner easing his stride in celebration over the final ten meters, with 16 days to go in 2018 I can coast in to my annual goal of reading one book a week.

Presently, I’m at 51 books. Actually, that tally is for published books. In truth, I’ve already reached 52 if you count the novel manuscript for “The Best Week That Never Happened” that recently sold to a publishing house and will come out in early 2020.

“Best Week” – written by my all-time favorite author, my daughter – was my favorite read this year, but since it’s not yet in print it will have to wait to officially make my annual Books I Loved This Year list below.

Let me begin with the latest 448 pages I’ve consumed, “Becoming” by Michelle Obama. The former First Lady is a first-rate writer and role model. Enlightening and inspiring, honest and revealing, “Becoming” is about as good as memoirs get. One complaint: I wanted more pages.

Speaking of more pages, “Cutting for Stone: A Novel” by Abraham Verghese was the longest book I read this year: 667 pages of terrific storytelling.

“A Prayer For Owen Meany” by John Irving is, from page 1 to page 627, masterfully told with heart and intrigue.

“The Long Ships” by Frans G. Bengtsson is another long book that is time well spent inhabiting. This 528-page-turner brings to life the Viking seafaring world of the 10th century.

“A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” by Mark Twain had me laughing out loud – and also wondering what took me so long to read it. Similarly, John Steinbeck’s “The Pearl” is a gem I’m glad I finally got around to reading.

“Rocket Men: The Daring Odyssey of Apollo 8 and the Astronauts Who Made Man’s First Journey to the Moon” by Robert Kursen was flat-out superb. Although it’s nonfiction, this remarkable Space Race book unfolds with the captivating storytelling of a novel.

Local westerns author Scott Harris, whose debut novel “Coyote Courage” I recommended previously, this year finished the second trilogy in this Brock Clemens’ series with “Battle on the Plateau”, “Mojave Massacre” and “Ambush at Red Rock Canyon.” All three are quick, fun reads.

Those who grew up in the 1960s will surely enjoy the nostalgic “Be True To Your School: A Diary of 1964” by former newspaper columnist Bob Greene.

Uniquely taking place almost entirely in a single hotel, “A Gentleman in Moscow” by Amor Towles is, simply put, a masterpiece.

Two World War II winners: “The Snow Goose” by Paul Gallico, a former New York City sports columnist-turned-novelist, is about a hunchback and a girl, love and bravery, and the Battle of Dunkirk; while “All the Light We Cannot See” by Anthony Doerr is an equally spellbinding tale about love and survival.

Something old and something new: “A Man Called Ove” by Fredrick Backman and “There, There: A Novel” by Tommy Orange.

Speaking of old, “The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out The Window And Escaped” by Jonas Jonasson was surprisingly delightful, with the main character out-Forest Gumping Forest Gump in the way he meets historical figures.

Winning the Pulitzer Prize is a tall order to live up to, but “Less” by Andrew Sean Greer just might do so in how it entertains and lifts the spirits.

“Sing, Unburied, Sing” by Jesmyn Ward is a gritty, powerful novel taking place in rural Mississippi – and, at times, taking place in the “in-between” between death and heaven. Narrated by four characters, and three generations, in alternating chapters, “Sing” is perhaps the book that most moved me in 2018.

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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” …

Holiday Generosity Bounces In

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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

Holiday Generosity Bounces and Rolls In

The official motto of the Special Olympics is, “Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.”

Ian Eaton, a local Special Olympian who has on numerous occasions carried the lighted torch during the opening ceremony parade through Ventura, altered the motto slightly in support of “Woody’s Annual Holiday Ball Drive” dedicated to giving new sports balls to disadvantaged kids: If I cannot give 100 sports balls, let me be generous in helping the cause with one ball.

Actually, Ian, donated one each basketball, football, and soccer ball with the note: “These balls aren’t 100, but hopefully some children enjoy them.”

Eaton’s sentiment was in reference to the Camarillo-Somis Lions Club, which made a “Christmas in June” promise of 100 balls, and this week dropped off 33 soccer balls, 33 footballs, 34 basketballs.

Below are some more of the special gifts that have bounced in to date…

Tim and Cindy Hansen, who give books to kids year-round through their curbside Little Free Library, donated one football, three soccer balls, two basketballs and two playground balls.

A mountain of gifts from “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive.”

Brent Muth’s annual “Ballapaloza” party with boyhood friends Mark Franke, Adan Valenica and Craig Rasmussen, collected a variety of 53 balls in honor of their late friend, Mike Sandoval, and their late coach, Gerry Carrauthers.

Eileen and Michael Maloney dished out three soccer balls, two playground balls, a football and a basketball.

Karen and Dave Brooks made a splash with one each basketball, football, soccer ball, volleyball and “four spongy baseballs for little kiddies.” Karen also noted, “Dave also donates golf balls throughout the year to the water hazards and rough at River Ridge Golf Course.”

Sandra Janotta donated one soccer ball and one basketball; Lee Draughon gave three each basketballs and soccer balls; and Carol Ann Roth gave three basketballs; and Barbara Coffman gave one basketball.

From Dave Flood came some brand-new baseball bats, balls and gloves with this note: “I’m 87 years old. When I was a kid we had no Little League, but we played on any empty lot we could find and we got our bats from the high school team – broken bats that we put screws in and taped up.”

Stephenie and Mark Thomas donated a case of 20 cans of tennis balls.

“Happy Holidays!” wishes for the kids came from Linda Peddie along with one each soccer ball and basketball.

Charis Werner dished two basketballs, two soccer balls and a football.

Draza Mrvichin donated a variety of 18 balls and Vana Guidotti donated one soccer ball and one basketball.

Alan and Kathy Hammerand gave nine balls mixed evenly between basketball, football and soccer, and noted: “We believe that it is so important for kids to have the opportunity to develop healthy, active lifestyles at an early age.”

Jim Cowan for the tenth consecutive year dished out 10 basketballs. He also emphasized that he believes deeply in the Golden Rule and to “love your neighbor as yourself” – “I am 87 now and these principles have guided me and my family over all of these years.” These principles also apply to everyone who has donated to the Ball Drive.

There is still time to pass out your own assist to a young neighbor in need by dropping off a new sports ball at a Boys & Girls Club, YMCA, youth group or (through Dec. 21) at Jensen Design & Survey at 1672 Donlon St. in Ventura. Online orders can be 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.

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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” …

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

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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

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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

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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

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

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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

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” …

Fireside Tales in the Twain Home

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

* * *

Fireside Tales in the Twain Home

Samuel Clemens’ home in Hartford, Connecticut, is almost as expansive as Mark Twain’s bibliography. The great author wrote some thirty books; his stately residence, built in 1874, checks in with twenty-five rooms.

The three-story mansion features a facade of mostly red brick with some painted orange, and others black, to create intricate patterns. Everywhere there are exterior angles and corners, gabled roofs and four chimneys, ornamental trusses and awnings, balconies and porches.

Inside, it was a marvel of its day featuring the latest “modern” innovations such as hot and cold running water in the seven bathrooms, flush toilets, and gaslight. It even had a newfangled telephone in the kitchen and a burglar alarm powered by batteries.

From the grand entry foyer up to the third-floor billiard room, the interior is breathtaking. To give you an idea of the opulence, nearly every inch of the walls and ceilings are decorated with intricate silver and gold stenciling designed by Louis C. Tiffany, the son of the famed jewelry store founder.

In the billiard room, hidden away from the busyness of the family, is where Twain wrote. Indeed, he penned his most important works here, including Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, and A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.

While I could imagine Twain at work with a thick fog of cigar smoke in the air and his notes spread out on the billiard table, my favorite room was the first-floor library. And my favorite part of the library was not the bookshelves filled to capacity, but rather the fireplace mantel.

It seems that Twain loved to play a nightly game with his three daughters – Susy, Clara and Jean – when they were young in which he would spin stories incorporating all of the items resting on the elaborately carved oak mantelpiece that came from Ayton Castle in Scotland.

From left to right, these items are: a painted round vase; large seashell; marble figure of a woman; tall blue vase; silver round serving platter; at the mantelshelf’s middle, a framed painting of a woman wearing a red winter coat and black hat; bronze tile of Twain’s profile; matching tall blue vase; white pottery water jar; small blue vase; a typing paper-sized painting of a cat’s face; and a tiny bronze harp figurine. Surely only a genius could invent new tale after original tale with these artifacts.

At first blush, the cat painting is not striking. It is of an ordinary grey feline with a pink nose, white whiskers and green eyes. Also, however, the cat is wearing a white ruffled collar – a “ruff” the tour guide noted – of the sort a Shakespearean character might wear.

Despite the house being filled with many more-remarkable framed artworks, “Cat in a Ruff” is said to have been Twain’s favorite – “beloved” is the word the tour guide used. This explains why the key rule to his storytelling game was that while the tale changed each and every night, one thing remained constant: it had to begin with “Cat in a Ruff.”

A decorative brass smoke shield above the firebox suggests that the warm feelings within the library extended throughout the house, and also beyond family, for Twain had it engraved with this sentiment from Ralph Waldo Emerson: “The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it.”

Picturing myself as a friend who was blessed to frequent the Clemens’ house, and listen to his fireside storytelling, was reason enough to take home from the souvenir shop a refrigerator magnet of “Cat in a Ruff.”

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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” …

Lobster Couple Tops a National Park

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” mail a check for $25 to:

Woody Woodburn

400 Roosevelt Court

Ventura, CA 93003

* * *

Lobster Love Outshines a National Park

Opening acts are not supposed to outshine the marquee attraction, yet that is exactly what happened.

In port for the day in Bar Harbor, Maine, my wife and I took a four-hour bus-and-hiking tour of Acadia National Park. The 47,000-acre expanse of rocky beaches and granite peaks, wild woodlands and serene lakes, made arm hairs rise in awe.

And yet this picturesque landscape was surpassed by a one-hour side visit to the nearby tiny Mount Desert Oceanarium Lobster Hatchery. Specifically, co-directors Audrey and David Mills made it a mental rose petal to be pressed inside the pages of a scrapbook.

David, a longtime lobster fisherman before becoming a charismatic octogenarian, began his presentation boat side: “Three things I know about a cell phone. One – don’t keep it in your breast pocket if you’re going to learn over the side to look down into the water.

David Mills displays a steel lobster pot.

“Two – it will not sink like a rock, but instead flutter to the bottom like a falling leaf.” He waved his hand in demonstration and continued: “Three – don’t bother retrieving it because it won’t work after its been in the salt water.”

For the next ten minutes, David paddled further and further away from the promised topic. Finally, as if suddenly remembering why we were all gathered, he pointed to a sign resting on the gunwale: “Talk About Lobsters Will Begin In A Bit.”

His grey droopy mustache danced above a quick smile and he said, “You thought I forgot to take this down, didn’t you?”

The mustache danced again: “It’s true – I’ll get around to talking about lobsters in a bit.”

The audience laughed. A bit later we learned a lot about lobsters. We learned about pots and trap bait and a hundred things more. We laughed some more, too.

Relating that he used to retrieve lost lobster traps from the depths of Maine’s frigid waters as a hired Scuba diver, David feigned a shiver and noted: “I charged 35 dollars an hour – 30 dollars was for the first five minutes.”

We learned that lobsters grow beyond 40 pounds; an adult lobster sheds its shell – molts – almost annually; and lobsters go into hiding until their new shells harden.

We learned that Atlantic lobsters are left- or right-handed, no kidding, depending on which side the more massive pincer claw – used to crush armored prey such as crabs and clams – is located. The opposite more slender pincer captures fast food like small fish.

We learned that Maine law requires lobstermen to cut a notch in the tail of egg-bearing females before throwing them back to sea. This “V-notch” thereafter serves as a get-out-of-jail card, so to speak.

Lobster couple Audrey and David Mills have been married for 62 years.

Best of all, we learned this: true love lasts a lifetime. Audrey and David are proof. They have been married 62 years and still come into focus like honeymooners.

When it was Audrey’s turn to lecture about crustacean biology, David couldn’t take his twinkling eyes off her. I know this because I couldn’t take my eyes off him watching her.

When Audrey told little jokes, quips that couldn’t possibly be funny after one has heard them thousands of times, David laughed as genuinely as if it were the first time.

For example, after explaining that a lobster’s sense of smell is one million times that of a human, she added: “Yuck, right?” and David’s mustache danced anew.

Here was my favorite moment of all. Afterward, when I asked David to pose for a boat-side photo, he politely excused himself to retrieve Audrey. He wanted her in the picture with him.

The lobster couple is actually a pair of lovebirds.

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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” …

Fishing Village Has Solemn History

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” mail a check for $25 to:

Woody Woodburn

400 Roosevelt Court

Ventura, CA 93003

* * *

Quaint Fishing Village’s Solemn History

Peggy’s Cove is a quaint fishing village with brightly painted cottages of yellow and red and blue on the south shore of St. Margarets Bay in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Its charm is not without alarm. On the path nearing Peggy’s Point Lighthouse is a bronze plaque with a green patina of age and rogue sea: “Warning: Injury And Death Have Rewarded Careless Sight-Seers Here. The Ocean And Rocks Are Treacherous. Savour The Sea From A Distance.”

An idyllic calm inlet within the rough waters of Peggy’s Cove.

An even starker reminder of the ocean’s treacherousness came just a few miles away when my wife and I visited Fairview Lawn Cemetery. A wooden sign, white with blue lettering, offers solemn notice: “Titanic Grave Site.”

Rising up a grassy slope are three rows of grave markers where 121 victims of the infamous sea disaster are interred. They found their final resting places here because two ships based in Halifax – the Mackay-Bennett and the Minia – assisted the search for bodies.

Viewing downhill from the crest of the site an idyllic image comes into focus: meeting at a single gravestone at the top, the three rows of markers bow outward suggesting the contour of a ship’s hull.

The top marker, a waist-high granite pedestal, is inscribed: “Erected To The Memory Of An Unknown Child Whose Remains Were Recovered After The Disaster To The ‘Titanic’ April 15, 1912.”

In 2002, after forensic testing identified the unknown child, a smaller plaque was added: “Sidney Leslie Goodwin, Sept. 9, 1910 – April 15, 1912.”

Daily, something else is added: visitors leave memorial offerings. On this day they included crayons and coloring markers, a porcelain angel figurine, and two teddy bears.

An unidentified marker at the Titanic grave site.

Almost impossibly, a nearby grave pulls on one’s heartstring fivefold harder – for here rests Alma Paulsen and her four children, ages 8, 6, 4 and 2. It is claimed it took the 29-year-old mother so long to get her children dressed that they missed the lifeboats. It is also said she lovingly played the harmonica to soothe and distract them as the doomed ship sank.

Remarkably, the Fairview Lawn Cemetery also holds the remains of victims from another epic maritime calamity – the Great Halifax Disaster of 1917. Its death toll actually surpassed the Titanic’s by more than 200 with an estimated 1,950 instant casualties. An additional 9,000 were injured.

It happened on a December morning after two cargo ships collided in the Halifax Harbor. The initial damage was actually minor. However, one of the ships was carrying a full load of explosives for the war effort in Europe, including 400,000 pounds of TNT.

That disabled ship floated downstream and ran aground and caught fire. The ensuing explosion leveled a full square mile of Halifax. A half-ton chunk of the ship’s anchor still lies where it landed 2.5 miles away. Shockwaves shattered windows 50 miles in the distance.

It was, according to experts, the most-powerful man-made blast until the arrival of The Atomic Age.

Here is something else powerful: Americans, especially volunteers from Boston, rushed to Halifax’s aid. The city continues to send a 40-foot spruce tree to Beantown each Christmas season as a thank you.

A more significant thank you came in the aftermath of the September 11 terrorist attacks. After the U.S. closed its airspace, a total of 224 planes were diverted to Canada. Halifax, as well as other Canadian cities, opened shelters and provided food and comfort.

Our tour guide, a local resident, put it this way: “At the end of the day, it was our American neighbors coming to our rescue in 1917 – so when we had the chance, we did the same on 9-11.”

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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” …