Author Archives: Woody

This, That, and Streakin’ Woody

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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This, That and a Horserace

“This is delicious,” I told my daughter. “Where did you get the recipe?”

“It’s my own,” she answered. “I basically clean out the refrigerator. I call it ‘Kitchen Sink Soup” because I put everything in it but the kitchen sink.”

Today, I serve you a “Kitchen Sink Column” of notes, quotes and other stuff . . .

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A shoutout of admiration to Brian FitzGerald, the longtime track-and-field coach and athletic director – and English teacher – who announced his retirement after 36 years at Rio Mesa High School.1masterpiece

Like many of the best coaches, FitzGerald always considered himself first and foremost a teacher – his “classroom” just happened to be a running track.

Because the lessons he taught his athletes, which included my own son in youth cross country, were about life even more than running, FitzGerald’s retirement made me think of the scene in “Dead Poets Society” when the prep-student played by Ethan Hawke stands atop his desk and salutes his departing teacher, played by Robin Williams, by quoting the title of a Walt Whitman poem: “O Captain! My Captain!” One by one, fellow students do the same.

FitzGerald’s students and athletes might change this heartfelt salute to, “O Coach! My Teacher!”

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“You can’t lead people unless you love people, and you can’t save people unless you serve people.” – Tavis Smiley, in his commencement speech to DePauw University’s Class of 2016.

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Add Smiley: “Today is not refundable. Make the most of it!”

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I love the wisdom in this text conversation that my friend Pattie Braga shared, calling it: “Lessons from my daughter posted at 1 a.m. (4 a.m., my time).”

“Mom, I really need a milkshake”

“What?!? It’s too late to be eating. And pull up your shirt” (responding to an attached photo of her daughter with a milkshake).

“It’s never too late for a milkshake”

(Smiley face emoji) “Good night sweetie”

“Goodnight Mommy”

Lesson II: It’s also never too late to text your mom.

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“Insanity,” Albert Einstein said, “is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

Insanity is also doing nothing – about gun reform – over and over again and expecting different results.

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Add guns. Here’s a wild thought: Since women were denied the right to vote until the 19th Amendment was added in 1920, and since men have a near monopoly as perpetrators of shooting crimes, how about revising the Constitution to allow only women the right to bear arms for the next 144 years?

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Donald Trump using a teleprompter looks like he’s watching a tennis match in slow motion. Just saying.

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Stunning and sad statistic: Fewer than half of U.S. children under age 5 are read to daily.

This summertime, let’s do better!

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A few weeks past, I asked you readers to help choose a name for the thoroughbred racehorse that I have been given the opportunity to christen in my honor.

The ballots stampeded in, more than 100 in fact, and out of the gate it was neck and neck and neck between Streakin’ Woody, Runs On Guinness, and Masterpiece Day.

A few write-in votes were also cast, including: Horsey McHorseface from Amy Bruder; Be Quick from Paul Olmsted in reference to John Wooden’s maxim, “Be quick, but don’t hurry”; Streakin’ Day from Ginger White; Streakin’ Woody Runs On Guinness Creating A Masterpiece Day from Kym King; and Woody’s Masterpiece Guinness Streak from Diane Underhill.

As the count continued, Runs On Guinness ran out of steam and Masterpiece Day and Streakin’ Woody streaked to the front. They traded the lead a few times and here is the announcer’s call coming down the homestretch:

“Streakin’ Woody and Masterpiece Day. Masterpiece Day by a length, now two, now three. Masterpiece Day pulling away. Streakin’ Woody is falling off. Masterpiece Day by six lengths, now seven. It’s a masterful run and Masterpiece Day wins it!”

Masterpiece Day must now be officially approved by a governing board. I’m also still waiting to meet “my” horse. Stay tuned.

And have a masterpiece weekend.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

Alcatraz Escape Buoys Spirits

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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Brief ‘Escape’ from Tragic Numbness

Back and forth, forth and back I pondered: do I write about The Latest Mass Shooting In America or do I not?

After all, my words run on the Op-Ed pages. On the other hand, for the most part I try to make my column an uplifting retreat.

Back and forth. I actually began writing a column leading off with my Facebook post from Sunday morning: “Numbness on top of numbness on top of numbness. My heart weeps for the Orlando victims and for young singer Christina Grimme and for every victim of gun violence daily in America, in classrooms and in churches, in nightclubs and in movie theaters, in and in, on and on.”

My remarkable friend Nate Higgins

My remarkable friend Nate Higgins

Then I had a change of mind. I decided to write about something else that happened last Sunday morning, not at 2 a.m. on the East Coast but at 6:30 a.m. on the West Coast; with texts and a phone call not of terror, but of triumph; a brief escape from the heart-numbing sorrow via the “Escape from Alcatraz” swim in hand-numbing frigid water.

Here is a text my friend Nate sent me Saturday night: “Regardless of what happens tomorrow morning, I’m most proud of the preparation I’ve made. Anything can happen on race day.”

Later, this text: “If my stroke is good and I don’t get hypothermia, and I time the current right, I think I have a good shot. Won’t be easy though.”

I first met Nate, now 31, a few years ago at a Thanksgiving dinner table. Ever since I have been thankful my son’s grad school classmate and friend is my friend as well.

I would like to say I have become a mentor to Nate, but the greater truth is he teaches and inspires me.

Here is an example of the example Nate sets: on the dawn boat ride out to Alcatraz Island, instead of focusing on his own daunting task ahead he encouraged others facing their own challenges.

Nate knows about challenges. He certifiably had more to overcome than any other of the 2,400 Alcatraz competitors for he was the only one who arrived for the swim in a wheelchair.

Twelve years ago, at age 19, Nate had a summer job painting houses. A fall resulted in a complete spinal cord injury at T2-T4 and left him a paraplegic.

A former high school wrestler – and track and cross-country runner – Nate refused to be pinned on the mat by the tragedy. He turned his athletic energies to becoming a Paralympic swimmer and has represented the U.S at the Parapan American Games among other lofty competitions.

As fiercely as he worked in the water, Nate also did so in the classroom. After graduating from Gonzaga University, he earned an MBA at USC in 2015 as a recipient of a “Swim With Mike” full-tuition scholarship for physically challenged athletes.

While his accident took much from him, Nate dedicates himself to giving. He speaks to youth groups; serves on a philanthropic board; and with no obligation to do so has made a personal commitment to repay his $160,000 “Swim With Mike” scholarship – he is a fourth of the way to success.

Nate was nervous if he would be successful in the 1.5-mile Alcatraz swim, but those who know him were confident he would punch a shark in the nose if required. Indeed, despite fierce currents that pushed him far off course and water choppy enough to make a seal seasick, Nate persevered.

“I have never had to dig this deep in an open water swim,” Nate said, his voice on the phone buoyant. “I am really proud of the resolve I showed. This was, without a doubt, the most difficult swim I’ve ever done.

“That being said, our journey is only as good as those we have the privilege of spending it with. The success I enjoyed today was simply a byproduct of so many friends, family, and mentors that have been there through thick and thin.”

Humble and heroic. Now you know why I call him “Nate the Great.”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

Ali and the “Little Man”

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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Great Memories of ‘The Greatest’

The moment was magical then and a full two decades later the memory remains magical still.

After spending six hours speaking about tolerance and understanding to students at a handful of inner-city schools in Los Angeles, Muhammad Ali ended the day in a private room with VIPs and media.

Finishing a chicken drumstick, Ali wiped his fingers clean and held up the napkin for all to see.

“What color is it?” he asked, all eyes now focused on him.1aliquote

“Red,” the roomful of people answered as one.

Using his left thumb, Ali carefully stuffed the napkin into his closed right fist.

“What color is it?” he asked again while playfully sprinkling invisible magic dust over his fist.

“Red” the chorus repeated. Ali smiled mischievously, his eyes dancing with delight, as he opened his right hand to reveal . . . ta-da . . . nothing!

“My handssss is sooo faaast you can’t even see ’em!” he crowed in a loud whisper, displaying both empty hands.

Ali, 54 years old on that December day in 1996, was already struggling fiercely with Parkinson’s – the disease that eventually claimed his life eight days ago at age 74. But for a few minutes he turned back the calendar pages, performing a couple more magic tricks and even throwing a few lightening punches while briefly shadow boxing.

Another Ali memory, this one from six months earlier at an autograph show in the Anaheim Convention Center. I was doing a column on Ali interacting with fans and I brought along my 6-year-old son. On the long drive there, I schooled the boy about “The Greatest.”

We sat next to Ali as he signed myriad pictures, posters, magazines and boxing gloves. Finally, I told my son it was time to leave.

“Not yet,” he balked softly. I’ve gotta say ‘Bye.’ ”

Ali heard the little boy’s protest and turned and for the very first time in an hour the man who used to “float like a butterfly” emerged from his cocoon of total silence.

“Hi, Little Man,” Ali whispered, spreading his arms wide as wings.

The 6-year-old Little Man, shy back then, instantly stepped forward and was wrapped in a clinch. Goodness it was cool.

But the real Kodak moment was yet to come.

After a standing eight count, maybe even a full ten seconds, Ali freed the Little Man and held out his right palm in the universal “give me five” position.

The boy, who at that age smacked hands hard enough to shatter metatarsals, gently slapped Ali’s palm before extending his own tiny hand for The Champ to return the gesture.

Ali took a swipe . . .

. . . and missed.

At the very last instant, the Little Man pulled his hand away like a matador’s red cape teasing a bull.

“Too slow,” the Little Man teased, his two missing front teeth causing the words to lisp. Like, “Tooooth looow.” Like Ali’s own voice that now lisped slightly.

Like two 6-year-olds, they laughed together at the tomfoolery.

Still roaring in delight, Ali once again opened his arms and the Little Man once again stepped into them, except this time the shy boy squeezed back, and tightly. Ali’s eyes caught mine and I swear to this day they twinkled.

It was a long hug. A Hollywood-ending hug. A hug from “The Greatest” that the Little Man, now a 6-foot-3 tall man, still remembers dearly and surely will until he is an old man.

As we walked hand-in-hand away after saying goodbye to Ali, my son stopped and looked up at me and here is what he said through a Christmas-morning smile in his two-missing-teeth lisp: “You know, Dad, you’re right – he really is ‘The Bestest.’ ”

One final memory. Inside that VIP room, six months later, Ali motioned for me to come over.

“You got a boy?” he asked faintly, holding out his hand, palm down, hip-high in a gesture of height.

I nodded, stunned he could possibly remember.

“Too slow,” Ali said, pulling back his hip-high hand, laughing, and then he signed an autograph: “To Greg – Love, Muhammad Ali.”

Rest in peace, “The Bestest.”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

B-Day Gift is Unbridled Success

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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Birthday Gift is Unbridled Success

Weddings, it strikes me, are a lot like locusts – more accurately called 17-year periodical cicadas.

Except this genus is the 30-year periodic wave of matrimonial invitations.

The first wave for my wife and I struck after college when many of our friends tied the knot and now the second wave is rolling in as the adult children of these couples are exchanging vows – usually beautiful, heartfelt, poetic vows they write themselves, the young showoffs.1woodyHorse

Anyway, the RSVP of a recent wedding invitation requested an interesting fact about each of us. For my much-better-half this was difficult because there are so many from which to choose – such as putting up for three decades with a knucklehead husband who suggested her fun fact should be that she is lousy at picking out birthday gifts for her husband.

Admittedly, this was a stupid thing for me to suggest. But, in my lame defense, it is true.

What is also true is that it is my own fault because a not-so-fun fact about me is that I am impossible to shop for. I refuse to make a list of gifts I would like nor do I drop subtle hints. Worse, I have been known to buy something for myself just days before my birthday – more than a few times causing my miffed wife to return what she bought me before I even open it.

Even when she is on the mark, I generally exchange it for a slightly different model, different color, different size.

“I love it! Thank you,” I will say, adding: “Did you keep the receipt?”

“Of course I did,” she replies, rolling her eyes but showing great restraint in not adding, “you ungrateful blockhead!”

Adding to the friction is that the interesting fact about me I suggested putting on the wedding RSVP is that one of my superpowers is giving great presents. I think outside the gift box; I listen for hints given so softly you need a stethoscope to hear them; and if all fails, I buy what they ask for.

Last weekend I celebrated my birthday – somewhere between how old I act (about 8) and how old my musical tastes, such as the Beetles’ song “When I’m Sixty-Four,” suggest I am. Usually my wife is stressed out for all of May because she has no clue what to give me besides a stink eye.

I don’t help matters by teasingly asking if I am going to like what she’s getting me. This year she was giddy with confidence.

“You are going to love it!” she said. “I tore up the receipt! And don’t bother guessing because you won’t come close.”

“Mom really came through,” both kids assured me. “You’re going to love it!”

They have all said this before and been wrong. This year they were wrong only in understatement. The long shot made it to the winner’s circle. My wife gave me a gift so thoughtful, terrific and outrageously unique that it makes my gift-giving superpowers seem like they have encountered Kryptonite.

My wife thought outside the box – and inside the barn. She got me a thoroughbred racehorse.

Actually, better than that. She got me the opportunity to name a racehorse in my honor. This is superior because I get a thoroughbred I can thoroughly call my own without having to pay for hay, housing and vet bills.

This is a big responsibility that I want to share with you dear readers. So I’m asking you to vote for one of three names. My win, place and show finalists are, in alphabetical order:

Masterpiece Day – paying homage to my favorite John Wooden maxim, “Make each day your masterpiece.”

Runs on Guinness – anyone who knows me knows I am a fan of “the good stuff.”

Streakin’ Woody – this is a nod to my running streak of 4,717 consecutive days as of today.

Please email your vote (or a write-in name) to me at woodywriter@gmail.com

After the ballots are counted, I think I will change my RSVP interesting fact to: “Named a thoroughbred racehorse (Fill-In-The-Winning-Name).

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

An Unstoppable Educational Journey

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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An Unstoppable Educational Journey

For a family celebration a decade past, we went to a restaurant at the Ventura Harbor and in addition to chips, salsa and albondigas soup followed by tacos, enchiladas and fajitas, our waitress served us something that wasn’t on the menu: a role model.

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Francelia Teran on her proud graduation day

We didn’t realize this at that moment, but over time as we got to know this waitress more personally it became clear that Francelia Teran is as inspiring as any superstar you will find on a bedroom poster.

“She-roe” is the term coined by Maya Angelou to describe women like Fran.

Earning a college degree is a lofty achievement under any circumstances, but Fran’s journey to the stage at CSU Channel Islands last Saturday to receive her Bachelor’s degree in Psychology was lengthier than most. Her pomp-and-circumstance walk required overcoming arduous circumstances.

For one thing, her father died when Fran was 14. The second shoe dropped a year later when her mother walked away from the family.

“I became a hard worker at a young age,” Fran recalls of her childhood in Mexico City. “When I came to America, I learned the language and my educational journey began.”

Faced with detours, she refused to be deterred.

“I am a strong, sensitive, and productive woman,” Fran says, and proudly. “I have encountered in my life many issues, but that hasn’t stopped me with my education.”

Indeed, working the long, late hours of a waitress and then coming home to read an assignment for class, or study for a test, or write a research paper into the wee morning hours before going to bed, and then rising early to go to classes requires determination, dedication, and sleep deprivation.

On top of work and school, Fran’s full plate has also included being a wife and mother. And despite the burden of college tuition, she has continued to send financial assistance to her extended family in Mexico City.

“I believe there is only one way to accomplished a dream,” Fran explains, flashing her familiar radiant smile. “By taking the action of doing it.”

She took action and earned an Associate Science degree from Ventura College in 2009 and then a second degree at VC in Psychology in 2013 before transferring to CSUCI.

In addition to the time demands of family, work and classes, Fran faced a language challenge. While she proudly considers becoming bilingual one of her greatest accomplishments, the truth is that reading textbooks and literature assignments, and writing papers and answering exam questions, in English is a barrier for ESL (English as a Second Language) students. Time, and nuance, gets lost in translation. In this light, her success in the classroom merits bonus acclaim.

But Fran would sooner serve the wrong order than serve up an excuse.

“I don’t let life issues stop me with my education,” she says. “The journey has been long. My son now is 17 and I have the great love of my husband. We encountered many struggles economically, socially, racially, and culturally. However, we are hard-working people.

“My main goal is to serve as a role model for my son and also for many Hispanic women like me. If I can do this, anyone can do it regardless of their migratory status, economic issues, and the language barrier.”

Last Saturday evening, Fran’s family, friends and co-workers – actually, “family” seems to describe them all – filled the second-floor patio of Margarita Villa to celebrate her accomplishment. The cold sea breeze blowing in was no match for the warmth of the occasion.

“Today, I am not only celebrating my graduation from Channel Islands University,” Fran told her well-wishers. “Today, I am making a difference in my community, in my life, and in my son’s life. I am an example of breaking the barriers. I want to be a good example for my son, for my nieces and nephews, and for many women who work hard.

“I believe in dreams, but I also believe in working to obtain something,” she continued. “You can absolutely not accept ‘no’ as an answer when you have a dream.”

Inspiring advice from a Fran-tastic role model.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

Don’t Like This Writer? You’re Fired!

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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Don’t Like This Writer? You’re Fired!

Editors note: Woody Woodburn is taking the day off. He has asked publicist “John Miller,” who reportedly worked for Donald Trump in 1991, to fill in today.

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The Ventura Star will be great again next Saturday because Woody Woodburn will be back with his column. Believe me, Mr. Woodburn is a great writer. Some people, many people, tell me he’s a very, very, very great writer.

Mr. Woodburn has all the best words. Long words, short words. Four-letter words and ten-letter words. You pick a number of letters, and he has a tremendous word.

Publicist "John Miller"

Publicist “John Miller”

A lot of people, smart people, people who read books, and I mean read a lot of books, thick books with many, many, pages, these really, really smart people tell me even Papa Hemingway was not as great a writer as Big Daddy Woody.

These same people, again I’m talking the smartest people, tell me Mr. Woodburn not only writes the best words, he writes unbelievable sentences and fantastic paragraphs. That’s the truth.

Think of the greatest columnists ever: Jim Murray, Red Smith, Ernie Pyle, Dear Abby. They couldn’t carry The Woodman’s laptop. Believe me.

What about the Ventura Star’s other columnists, you ask? Well, Colleen Cason, I’ve seen her type at her keyboard and she’s low-energy. Without three cups of coffee and a Red Bull she’s a total disaster.

Bill Nash’s columns are 10 percent shorter than Mr. Woodburn’s columns so obviously they are 10 percent worse.

Rhiannon Potkey and Jim Carlisle? Sports is called the newspaper toy department for a reason. That makes them Toys R Us writers.

And I’m not even going to mention Pa Ventura. But other people tell me Pa is really, really not a talented columnist. Pa-thetic. A real lightweight. Frankly, he’s a nasty guy.

Nobody, believe me nobody, has more respect for women readers than Mr. Woodburn. Women readers love him. And I’m talking beautiful women readers. Gorgeous women. Miss USA reads Mr. Woodburn’s columns, that’s the truth.

When you see the name “Woodburn” splashed above a column, you know it’s going to be classy and flashy and the best in the world. And Mr. Woodburn doesn’t just write columns – his name is on books, too.

Of all the books written in history, and I’m talking the greatest books ever, only The Good Book (The Bible) and The Great Book (“The Art of the Deal”) are better than “Wooden & Me” and “Strawberries in Wintertime.” And Mr. Woodburn’s next book, whatever it is, will be amazing. Believe me, absolutely amazing!

When you talk about writers, not just newspaper writers but writers of books, Mr. Woodburn is Mark Twain, John Steinbeck, Ernest Hemingway and J.K. Rowling rolled into one. Mr. Woodburn is huuuge like Shakespeare.

Speaking of huuuge, Mr. Woodburn’s Fitbit numbers make an Olympic marathoner envious. He also surfs the biggest waves, skis the tallest mountains and is more interesting than The Most Interesting Man in the World.

But back to writing. Mr. Woodburn leads all the Amazon.com polls. He has huuuge numbers, believe me. Any best-seller’s list that doesn’t rank Mr. Woodburn’s books at the very top is rigged. Totally corrupt.

Let’s be honest, a lot of writers are really not very smart people. But Mr. Woodburn’s IQ is high, SpaceX rocket-ship high, high like Einstein’s IQ, but with words instead of math numbers. This allows Mr. Woodburn to write some of the best words and sentences ever.

Mr. Woodburn’s energy is also high. He types lightening fast, believe me. You wouldn’t believe how fast he types. He has big hands yet his fingers dance on the keyboard like Fred Astaire.

I have heard from lots of people, you really wouldn’t even believe how many people, who say reading is dead. Reading’s best times are in the past, they say. But they are as stupid as our China trade deals. The Woodster is making reading great again.

Next Saturday’s column by Mr. Woodburn is going to be amazing. Phenomenal. Amazingly phenomenal. Believe me. Check it out and you won’t believe how very, very tremendous it is.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

“Get To” Slam Dunks “Have To”

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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“Get To” Better Perspective Than “Have To”

Abraham Lincoln put things into perspective as wonderfully as anyone, as he so often did, when he observed: “We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.”

A recent lunch companion, also making the point that proper perspective is everything, put it this way: “I felt sorry for myself because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.”1masterpiece

His words were more than repeating a familiar maxim because he has helped people in danger of losing their feet. Specifically, he has treated Ethiopian villagers suffering from mossy foot, a disease that causes massive swelling of the feet. It is not only physically debilitating, it can cause the afflicted person to become a social outcast.

Cleft palate is another physical ailment that can turn a life upside down – and something that another of my recent luncheon companions has helped treat in Kenya.

In fact, most of the ROMEOs – Retired Old Medics Eating Out – who invited me to eat out with them at their monthly get-together have in the past made humanitarian medical trips to Africa.

Now in their 70s, 80s and 90s, these retired local physicians seem to rejoice that thorn bushes have roses.

“I am at the point in my life where I really do see each day as a masterpiece,” one told me, echoing a John Wooden maxim.

Another shared this: “I have my aches, but at least I’m still alive to ache.”

A couple hours later, the blessing of feeling aches hit home when I saw a friend who had just finished a swim workout. I asked him how the pool temperature was and he replied matter-of-factly: “I don’t know – because of my paralysis I can’t feel the water.”

Perspective refocused.

It was also refocused during my daily run recently when a nagging injury flared up. As my pace slowed and my muttering sped up, I crossed paths with a friend and stopped to say hi.

After our brief visit, I had a new perspective on my tight hamstring because my friend is battling a real foe, cancer – again – yet his smile and upbeat nature would never reveal as much.

As my Grandpa Ansel liked to say, “Most of us don’t have to look very long before we see someone who has bigger challenges than we do.”

Same run, now with a renewed bounce in my stride, I came upon a retired couple I often see walking their dog. Lucy, a border collie, has been very frail in recent months and now she was not with them.

Again I paused for a quick visit and while my worst suspicions proved true – Lucy died a couple weeks ago at age 15 – the couple was very happy to introduce me to their new adorable border collie puppy, Finley.

Once more I restarted my run with a refocused perspective.

Here is how a dear friend shifts her perspective when she feels like complaining about having to exercise, or having to cook dinner, or having to go to a work meeting she wishes she could skip.

“I change the ‘have to’ to ‘get to,’ ” she explains. “I ‘get to’ go to the gym. I ‘get to’ cook a meal I like. I ‘get to’ go to work. A lot of people have an ailment that prevents them from exercising. A lot of people are homeless and don’t have a kitchen. A lot of people want a job.”

Another friend was dreading a visit to the doctor to have blood drawn the other day. Her high anxiety was because she has tiny veins that nurses never seem to hit cleanly until the third or fourth try.

But a friend of hers provided a new perspective, an I ‘get-to’ perspective, by pointing out what a privilege it is to have access to healthcare. Think of the refugees in the Middle East, the friend said.

Or African villagers with mossy foot.

At the ROMEO lunch, I ordered a turkey sandwich with no mayonnaise. Instead, it came with extra mayo. It was delicious.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

Delivering a Mother’s Day message

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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Delivering a Mother’s Day message

The first Mother’s Day gift I remember giving my mom was a bouquet of flowers fashioned from colored tissue paper and pipe cleaners that we made in first grade.

I am fairly certain nearly as much messy glue went into it as love, and a handful of dandelions would have been prettier to display, yet Mom, of course, acted as thrilled as if it were a dozen roses because that’s what moms do.1momsday

The final Mother’s Day gift I gave my mom, 24 years ago – it is difficult to believe it has been that long – was a bouquet of real flowers. More importantly, I delivered them in person with a hug. She probably would have preferred a single rose and a bouquet of hugs.

These two reminisces bring to mind a story, perhaps apocryphal, I heard a while ago and seems fitting to share today on Mother’s Day eve.

It was the Friday before Mother’s Day and a successful businessman – let’s call him Harry – decided to order flowers for his mom. Usually he had his secretary or wife do this task, but for some reason he felt motivated to do it himself.

Ordering a bouquet online would have been almost as easy as asking his secretary to take care of it, but Harry believed in supporting local businesses so on his lunch break he walked to a florist shop a few blocks from his office.

The owner began to show Harry a variety of special arrangements, but Harry was in a hurry – he always seemed in a rush; in the business world time is money – so he simply ordered a dozen long-stemmed red roses to be delivered two days hence on his mom’s doorstep 200 miles away.

The premium prices for Mother’s Day flowers, and the surcharge for a Sunday delivery, didn’t make Harry blink. In fact, because he felt bad for being too busy to visit his mom he doubled his original order to two-dozen roses.

Harry wrote down his mom’s address, asked for an extra dozen roses to-go to take home to his wife, and paid with his platinum credit card.

Exiting the florist shop, Harry almost bowled over a young boy who asked: “Excuse me, sir, could you lend me two dollars?”

Harry’s instinct was to acerbically correct the boy and say, “Don’t you mean give you two dollars? You aren’t planning to pay me back.”

But the boy’s sincerity brought out a gentler side in Harry and instead he asked: “Why do you need two dollars?”

“Today’s my mom’s birthday and I want to buy her a beautiful flower, but I don’t quite have enough money,” the boy explained.

Harry suddenly found himself in no hurry, found himself becoming a softy, and while reaching for his wallet asked the boy where he lived.

The boy pointed up the street: “About five minutes that way.”

Harry now had a better idea than handing the boy a couple bucks. He plucked one of the roses from the bouquet for his wife – surely she would not even notice the difference between a dozen and 11 – and handed it to the boy.

“Give this beauty to your mom.”

“Wow! Thank you so much!” the boy said. “I’m going to take this to my mom right now!”

With that the boy got on his bicycle and began to ride off – in the opposite direction of where he had pointed his house was.

“Hey, son, I thought you lived that way,” Harry said.

“I do,” the boy replied. “But the cemetery is this way. My mom died last year.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry said, his voice choking up. He handed the boy the rest of the bouquet and added: “Please put these on her grave.”

The boy took all the flowers and rode away while Harry turned around and went back into the florist shop.

“I need to cancel that out-of-town delivery I just ordered,” Harry said. “Instead, I need you to put together two dozen roses to-go as quickly as possible. I’ve decided to deliver them today personally.”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

Readers Chime In

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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Flipping roles: readers do the writing

“Why struggle writing a column,” Chuck Thomas, my esteemed mentor and longtime steward of this space, liked to say, “when you can have others do it for you?”

Following his sage advice, I am taking the day off. Pinch-hitting are some readers who responded to recent columns.

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“Thank you for the beautiful piece you wrote on the value of libraries!” emailed Marianne Coffey. “So many depend on our libraries each day and it is so difficult here in Ventura to garner City Council support for our libraries or a book budget.

“I volunteer at E.P. Foster Library and it is so heartwarming to see firsthand the early literacy activities enjoyed by the little ones, the Lego play times, the dance parties, Summer Reading Program, the Chess Club and Teen Activity Groups, as well as adult activities underwritten by all the Ventura Friends of the Library.

“We are blessed with a dedicated library staff and our libraries are a real lifeline for so many, helping many community members cross the digital divide.

“Our libraries offer homework centers, and there is a retired gentlemen at E.P. Foster that I watch in the afternoons tutoring Math. We have a great many unsung heroes in our community!”

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Joanne Fields, herself an unsung library hero, offered this:

“You concisely cleared up the confusion many have about libraries being ‘outdated’ in this age of technology. In addition, you expressed the wonder that can be found in libraries.

“In my case, whenever I took a new job, the first place I located near my new employer was the library. My first job was as a page in the library and I am now recording secretary for the Ventura Friends of the Library. So my love affair with libraries and the knowledge they represent is unabated.”

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By no means is my in-box always filled with unabated support, as this viewpoint from P.W. attests:

“Why throw into a column on impersonal musings, your personal dislike for Trump? Trump’s angry rhetoric is no worse than equally hateful/dishonest/unprincipled commentary from ALL the candidates.

“The election issue is not Trump, but a complete slate of people who are far from being the best and brightest our country has to offer.”

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A handful of readers replied in regards to my personal “Theory of Pizza Imprinting,” but my favorite is from John Acevedo:

“Boy, did I get a lot out of your pizza column. My favorite pizza is from a place in Lincoln, Nebraska, named Valentino’s. We used to buy two and put one in the fridge for breakfast on Sunday. What crazy boys, we were!”

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Howard Reich made me crazy happy with his note, and deed, that reversed the title of my book “Strawberries in Wintertime” into Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive in Springtime:

“Woody, I used a Sports Chalet gift card to purchase and distribute one football, one basketball, and two playground balls.”

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Bob Pratt wrote in with a suggestion regarding something I mentioned:

“Maybe you could tell the story behind why -30- is used by writers at the end of a column in newspapers.”

Great question, indeed, for while I have typed -30- since first working on UC Santa Barbara’s The Daily Nexus in 1979, I never knew the origins of this journalism tradition. Prompted by Bob, I now do.

Its use apparently began during the Civil War era when telegraph operators employed a long list of terms – called the 92 Code of telegraphic shorthand – that each had a number associated with it.

For example, 1 meant “Wait a minute”;  27 was “Priority, very important”; 73 was “Best regards”; and 88 was “Love and kisses.”

And, of course, 30 meant “No more – the end.”

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Lastly, one more library email, this one from Doris Cowart sharing a comment about her 5-year-old great grandson:

“When Dean got his library card, he called it his ‘Library License’ and he carries it in his wallet. Love that boy!”

Doris didn’t ask me, but she should send Dean this text: “27-88-30.”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

Catherdrals of Curiosity

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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Libraries: Cathedrals of Curiosity

Nearly a half-century has passed, yet the memory remains vivid and magical. My fellow first-graders in Miss James’ class went on a field trip to the Center of Science and Industry in downtown Columbus, Ohio.

Before we saw the erected dinosaur skeletons and caveman displays and moving constellations inside the planetarium, we were greeted in the cathedral-like entry foyer by a gargantuan pendulum that seemed to hang down from the heavens so high overhead was its anchor pivot.

The bowling ball-sized “massive bob” swung to and fro in slow motion while on the floor around the circumference of its path were wooden pegs. With each swing, the point at the end of silver bob inched closer and closer to the next upright peg in line until the margin it missed by was razor thin. Then, finally, another miniature bowling pin would topple. It was mesmerizing.1librarypic

Another cathedral, similarly so quiet you could have heard a wooden peg drop on its tiled floors, made a lasting impression on me that same year when my mom took me to the Upper Arlington Public Library to get me my very own library card.

Inside this magical place I also could learn about T-Rex, Neanderthals and the Big Digger – and so much more. I even remember the first book I checked out: “Where the Wild Things Are.” This was a case where judging a book by its cover turned out wonderfully.

My enchanted experience is nearly universal. Indeed, it is rare to meet an adult who doesn’t fondly recall getting their library card as a child.

“I discovered me in the library,” the great author Ray Bradbury said. “I went to find me in the library.”

And this from the poet Maya Angelou: “I always felt, in any town, if I can get to a library, I’ll be OK. It really helped me as a child, and that never left me.”

Inventing the public library, in 1731, might have been Benjamin Franklin’s greatest act of genius. The Ventura County Library system is quite venerable itself, proudly celebrating its 100th anniversary this week.

Much has changed since 1916 – even since 2006. Card catalogues are now digitalized; e-books, movies and music are available at our libraries; free WiFi and computer access are also offered.

Sadly, even tragically, too many people see libraries as outdated in this Google era and a waste of taxpayer money. These naysayers are as wrong as a Social Sciences title, which belongs in the Dewey Decimal System’s 300 section, being shelved in the 500s for Science.1libraryquote

Here is what my dear friend, and favorite librarian, Allyson would like you to know:

“In the 21st Century, we’re not your Grandma’s librarian! Librarians have always been the ‘original search engine,’ but in this age of technology librarians are needed more than ever.

“In the 21st century, people are faced with an ocean of information, in an explosion of formats from a huge variety of authors, with a wide range of credibility. We need librarians more than ever to help us learn the skills to navigate this ocean.

“In an age of widening income inequality, libraries remain dedicated to the radical proposition that everyone has a right to access humanity’s knowledge, and the right to read for pleasure.

“In an era where everything from job and college applications to car buying and banking is done online, libraries provide not only free internet access but guidance, insuring that information does not become the domain of the few and the wealthy.

“Libraries are centers for all kinds of events and exchanges of ideas,” Allyson continues passionately. “They are the heart of the community. And the only passport required to enter is curiosity.”

Me again. Curiosity, and a library card, will take you anywhere and everywhere. And while the pendulum may swing towards technology, it always swings back to print books and human librarians.

In truth, I need not have told you Allyson is my friend so long as I mentioned she is a librarian. From Benjamin Franklin’s time to today, every librarian is a friend to all who enter these cathedrals of curiosity.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden&Me_cover_PRCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”