Author Archives: Woody

Column: Pooh Bear and Heartbreak

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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Pooh Bear No Match For These Tears

When my daughter was very young and in daycare, I would frequently pick her up and take her out on a lunch “date.” We always had a wonderful time, but when I would drop her off again so I could go back to work, she always cried.

And cried and cried, so much so that her grandmotherly caregiver eventually suggested it might be best to stop these noontime excursions.

Celine and Dallas lighting up Paris with their smiles.

Celine and Dallas lighting up Paris with their smiles.

The next time I dropped Dallas off after a lunch outing, I tried something crazy and gave her one of her favorite stuffed animals to remind her of me, and our bedtime reading ritual, as she went down for her afternoon nap.

Winnie the Pooh worked like a charm. The tears stopped and our dates continued.

Fast forward just over a dozen years. After hugging Dallas goodbye on move-in day her freshman year in college, I handed her a small stuffed Winnie the Pooh. Through her tears came a smile.

I needn’t have worried, of course. Minutes after we left, Dallas’ very first new college friend walked into her dorm room. This human Winnie the Pooh’s name was Celine. She lived across the hallway and came bearing an extra Popsicle.

Instant friends, they became roommates the following three years, and lasting friends who after graduation visited each other around the globe from Los Angeles and San Francisco to London and Paris, the latter where Celine moved to pursue a career in fashion.

Early Monday morning my daughter called me, heartbreak like I’ve never heard in her voice: “Celine is dead, Daddy.”

Celine was in India for a friend’s wedding and while riding in a taxi was hit by a bus. Twenty-six is far too young to lose your life and 27 is far too young to lose a best friend.

Talking to Dallas on the phone numerous times daily since – in truth, mostly listening to her because really a parent is hopelessly impotent to help in any other way in such a tragic time – I have been reminded of those long ago nights reading to her about another friendship, from A.A. Milne’s classic “Winnie the Pooh,” and specifically the passage where Christopher Robin tells Pooh Bear:

“If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together, there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

Celine, in a way, gave this same gift to Dallas, who recalls: “Freshman year of college, when I broke up with my first real boyfriend, I remember fleeing to her room, sobbing, and she hugged me as I cried.

“Another time, when I was feeling down on myself because ‘no boys were ever going to like me, ever!’ she played me the song ‘Somebody’s Baby’ by Phantom Planet, saying it made her think of me because I was ‘so awesome that guys probably just assume you’re already taken.’ I still smile and think of her when I hear that song. Celine saw the very best in me, even when I didn’t see it in myself.”

The last time my daughter saw Celine was before Dallas’ birthday this past May. They caught up for brunch before Celine caught her flight back to Paris.

“I had a cold and I remember wondering whether I should cancel,” Dallas remembers. “I didn’t want to spread my germs to Celine, or to anyone else my path would cross on my commute into the city. But we were able to see each other so rarely that I thought, ‘To hell with it, I’m going!’ And I’m so grateful I did. We had a lovely visit, chatting in the sunshine over hot coffee and tea and scones, and before we hugged goodbye in the BART station I remembered to snap a photo.”

One could not wish to see two happier faces in a final selfie together.

Here is what Christopher Robin also tells Pooh Bear: “But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart . . . I’ll always be with you.”

He should have added, “Here, Pooh, have a Popsicle.”

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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-mock-upCheck 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”

Column: Friendship Trumps All

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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Friendship Trumps Time and Separation

Tennessee Williams was spot-on when he observed, “Time doesn’t take away from friendship, nor does separation.”

Rarely has this been more clear personally than earlier this week when I met up with a boyhood friend I had not seen in a dozen years, if not more. Before that, it had been nearly as long again between reunions.

Jimmy and me: a poor picture of a rich friendship!

Jimmy and me: a poor picture of a rich friendship!

Prior to these long lapses, however, during our “Wonder Years,” Jimmy and I were thick as thieves, or scamps, or Tom and Huck. He was, in fact, my first friend upon moving to Ventura from Ohio at age 12.

Jimmy, four months my junior, wasn’t my friend so much as my “cousin” of which I have not a single biological one. Had he lived in Ventura, or I in Pasadena, we would have been “brothers.”

We first met because Jimmy’s aunt and uncle were my godparents. Each summer he stayed two weeks at their Solimar beach home and upon arriving here in 1972 I joined him. It became a yearly rendezvous through our teens.

Those beach days and nights were boyhood bliss. We stayed up late shooting pool and watching TV, slept in long, then spent the remaining sunlight in the waves and exploring tide pools, looking for seashells and ocean glass, playing basketball and talking about girls.

Too, I would annually stay a week with Jimmy and his mom – his father died when Jimmy was 4 and his only sibling, a sister, was 10 years older and already out of the house – in Pasadena. Summer at the beach is an idyllic playground that is hard to equal, but these vacations came close.

Jimmy was a California beach boy straight from Central Casting, with a toothpaste-ad smile, longish platinum hair, and a tan the color of an old penny. But his most striking feature, it always seemed to me, was his laugh.

Even at age 12, his laugh sounded like it came from an old man with emphysema – imagine Billy Crystal doing an out-of-breath character in a Brooklyn deli. Better yet, recall the wonderful hearty snicker of Muttley, the Hanna-Barbera cartoon dog. That was Jimmy’s laugh and he used it readily.

Separation of 70 miles – Jimmy still lives near Pasadena – is no excuse for the years of severance we allowed to pass.

Our last time together was when we saw John Wooden give a talk at the historic Pasadena Civic Center. Jimmy and I shared many similarities growing up and near top of the list was our idolization of the Wizard of Westwood. Indeed, we both went to Coach Wooden’s summer basketball camp and memorized every block in the Pyramid of Success.

Too bad we neglected Wooden’s preaching to “make friendship a fine art” – at least with each other. Annually our Christmas cards echoed sentiments to rekindle our friendship in the New Year, but we kept failing to keep the promise.

Taking the “Initiative” – a block in Wooden’s Pyramid – Jimmy’s 2014 holiday card included wishes of “Peace, Love & Joy” and a specific date in January to meet. When I walked into Brendan’s Irish Pub & Restaurant in Agoura Hills – a midway drive for both of us – the sight of my old friend was a time machine making me young again.

Our 15-year separation might as well have been five minutes. We picked up as if we had just been in the middle of a conversation before one of us left to go to the bathroom – the latter happening a number of times on this evening, causing Jimmy to say, “I guess we are in our fifties and not teenagers anymore.”

An anticipated hour visit lasted nearly four as we reminisced and caught up on wives and kids, work and play, and raised our glasses to the shared loved ones we have lost – his cousin and my second “sister”; his aunt and my godmother; his mom and my mom.

Bidding goodbye, Jimmy and I made plans for another hello very soon, and these words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow came to mind: “Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.”

And the hug and the Muttley laugh, too.

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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-mock-upCheck 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”

 

Column: An Unsalty Newsroom?

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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A Newsroom That Isn’t A Little Salty?

Journalism and free speech are under attack, but I am not talking about cartoonists and Charlie Hebdo.

Earlier this week, York (Pa.) Newspaper Company publisher Sara Glines sent a memo to her troops at the York Daily Record, Lebanon Daily News, Public Opinion News, and Evening Sun requesting they not only use spell-check on their print copy but swear-check on their verbal language. It read in part:

1swear“I’ve heard some troubling conversations recently, so I want to remind all employees that cursing is not appropriate in the work environment. … I know that newspapers have had a salty history and culture. And I know that we all will slip from time to time. Still, I believe we can express ourselves adequately without the use of profanity. Let’s clean up our language and make this a workplace that anyone can feel comfortable in.”

This would seem admirable except for one small thing – we are talking about newsrooms! Might as well try to rid a football locker room, foxhole or Chris Rock of salty language. Good luck, and besides, why?

Glines didn’t stop at nixing the high sodium content in the newsroom air. She followed up the punch to the potty mouth with a second to the stomach via another memo a day later:

“Happy 2015 everyone! If your new year resolution is to eat healthy, we’re here to help. Our Healthy Vending machines will be installed on Thursday! No more Mountain Dew, no more Snickers bars. But there will be plenty of tasty treats. … And an added bonus, the new machines will accept credit cards, so you can snack without borrowing cash from your colleagues.”

Is she salty-word serious? This smells of entrapment because the surest way to make journalists swear, next to taking away half the word count they were promised for a story, is taking away their junk food.

Normally the posted comments under an on-line story aren’t worth the electrons used to illuminate them on-screen, but in this case the responses are as nearly as fun as being in a newsroom near deadline. Here’s a sampling:

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“No cussing, OR snickers bars? This. Must. Not. Stand. #JeSuisYorkPA”

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“I don’t see this as a workplace that I would ‘feel comfortable in.’ ”

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“How the hell are people supposed to work under these conditions?”

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“We need to send these people some (salty word) Snickers bars and (four salty words) Mountain Dew RIGHT NOW.”

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“It’s the dawn of a golden age in that newsroom for reporters with kids selling candy bars.”

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“You’ve (salty word) got to be (salty word) me. Not about the swearing – about the notion that York Daily Record employees are paid well enough to have credit cards.”

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“No cursing, no junk food, AND no bumming change from coworkers? Has she ever worked in a newsroom before?”

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“Does this mean we have to surrender the fifth of Old Granddad in our bottom desk drawer? (Salty word) I mean – darn – journalism really is becoming just like any other business: boring, bland, and bound to go under. Murrow and The Boys are rolling in their graves.”

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“Hell. On. Earth. Or Pennsylvania.”

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“The place sounds like a living heck.”

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“I’ll give up my Snickers when you pry it from my cold, dead hands. Don’t take away my right to bear bars.”

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“(Three salty words)! Another publisher who probably gets her news tips at the hair salon on Thursdays and tells the M.E. (Managing Editor): ‘It’s all anybody is talking about.’ ”

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“Once they installed carpeting in the newsroom, it was downhill from there.”

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“Try as I might, I just can’t imagine myself saying aloud in any of the newsrooms where I toiled: ‘Gosh darn it, that silly ol’ mayor isn’t calling me back and I need to file this story right doggone now. Dag nab it!’ ”

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“Paging George Carlin.”

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            In closing, let me page the ol’ newspaperman Mark Twain, who said: “Profanity is more necessary to me than is immunity from colds” and “When angry count four; when very angry, swear.”

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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-mock-upCheck 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”

 

Column: Off Court He’s Still Magical

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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Backboard to Boardroom, He’s Magic

It was the littlest of things, yet it remains an indelible memory more than a quarter century later. A small gesture of gracefulness telling a bigger story.

I was in the Los Angeles Lakers’ locker room as a rookie writer. It was after the game and reporters were boxing one another out around Magic Johnson’s locker stall like players battling for rebound position.

My kids Dallas and Greg enjoying a "Magic" moment at Cal Lutheran College two decades ago.

My kids Dallas and Greg enjoying a “Magic” moment at Cal Lutheran College two decades ago.

As the scrum of scribes and TV cameras thinned, I moved forward and finally asked a question to which Magic prefaced his answer: “Well, Woody… ”

Understand, I was not a familiar beat writer. Rather, this was my first time covering a Lakers game. But Magic had the grace to slyly spy the name on my media credential and made me feel welcomed.

Truth is, Magic made every media member feel welcomed – and made our working lives much easier.

Unlike Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, who would escape to the showers without talking, or Shaq O’Neal, who seemed to delight in mumbling so we couldn’t hear what he was saying, Magic would sit at his locker and thoughtfully answer each and every question until the very last reporter had what he or she needed.

I had the good fortune to interview Magic many more times during the final few years of his playing career and also enjoyed a couple lengthy one-on-one conversations with him at his youth basketball camps at Cal Lutheran University after he retired. Every encounter was a pleasure.

For good reason when people ask me who my favorite person to interview has been, the first name I mention after John Wooden is Magic Johnson.

So when the basketball legend-turned-mogul entrepreneur was a guest speaker not long ago as part of UC Santa Barbara’s Arts & Lectures series at the Arlington Theatre, I had to be there.

I’m glad I was. I have seen many wonderful speakers on stage – including Maya Angelou, Malcolm Gladwell and the Dalai Lama – and Magic was second to none.

He also did something unique – he ignored the lectern, eschewed a chair, and in fact shunned the stage entirely. Instead, in theatric terms he “broke the fourth wall” and gave his nearly two-hour-long talk from the floor in front of the stage as well as intimately walking up and down the aisles.

After recounting how he and his strapped college dorm mates would clip coupons and pool their money to buy one large pizza and sodas to share, Magic thoughtfully walked to the back of the auditorium to address the UCSB students who suddenly went from being in the cheap seats to having a front-row view.

Along the way, Magic’s extra dose of “charisma” DNA was evident as he stopped and talked – and posed for snapshots – with a handful of audience members. An hour later – reminiscent of my long-ago locker room encounter – he addressed a couple of these same strangers by first name.

Magic has treated F. Scott Fitzgerald’s famous declaration, “There are no second acts in American lives,” like a backpedaling defender. He faked it out and scored. Impossibly, Magic has been as successful in the business boardroom as fast-breaking between the backboards.

A tweet-length post-NBA summary in 140 characters: Part owner of the Dodgers; owner of movie theaters, Starbucks, 24 Hour Fitness and Burger King franchises serving urban areas; philanthropist; HIV/AIDS activist.

Directing his wisdom directly to the “young people” in the Santa Barbara audience, Magic, now 55, encouraged them get an education, find mentors, and dream big.

“I was a student-athlete who went to class,” he shared.

“People helped me along the way so I need to help others.”

“I was poor, but I didn’t dream poor.”

Further advice for success in the business world, and life, included: “Respect people’s time”; “always be early”; and “over-deliver.”

“I want you to over-deliver to everybody; your parents; your professor,” Magic concluded. “That’s what we all have to do now. It’s not enough just to deliver anymore. You have to over-deliver.”

It was not lip service: Magic was scheduled to speak for an hour and a half but graciously over-delivered by 20 minutes.

Happily, some things never change.

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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-mock-upCheck 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”

Column: This And That

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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This, That and Final Holiday Ball Tally

     Starting off the New Year with a hodgepodge of thoughts I jotted down the past month but never got around to sharing, and ending with a wrap up of the last-second generous sharing by readers supporting my holiday ball drive…

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The long-running slogan, “Nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee” came to my mind New Year’s morning with a version that must be even more sweetly true: “Nobody doesn’t like the Rose Bowl.”

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The times when it is most difficult to be a gentleman are the times it is most important to be a gentleman – or classy woman. I’m just sayin’, even if I’m not always doin’.

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Why do college football and NFL color commentators feel that they must talk (pronounced “babble”) every single second of non-action? Do they think they are paid by each word spoken? Silence is golden so how about shutting up once in a while?

Oops, I guess I’ve already failed my earlier advice to be gentle.

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Very few good ideas happen after midnight; fewer still after 1 a.m.; and none at all after 2 a.m. Just sayin’.

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Marriage vows should be renewed every decade and New Year’s resolutions should be renewed every Monday.

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If you wonder whether you should write a thank-you note, the answer is YES! You can never go wrong with a handwritten note for any reason – or for no reason.

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Cretins who don’t wipe off the exercise equipment after sweating all over it should be snapped on their butt with a towel rat tail and banned from the gym for a week. Just sayin’.

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It is easy to be compassionate to family and friends; the feat is to show compassion to strangers and those you do not understand or even like.

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We tend to take it for granted but if you pause and actually study an aisle in a supermarket it is fairly remarkable the wide variety of any single item available – but the cereal aisle is perhaps the most mind-boggling.

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It is difficult to imagine anyone coming through with the clock winding down as clutch-like as Jerry West, Michael Jordan, Joe Montana or Peyton Manning, but Star readers did exactly that in the final days before Christmas with their donations to “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive.”

A quick summary of this beat-the-buzzer generosity: Toni and Jaime Santana, two basketballs; Randi and Scott Harris, two basketballs to the RAIN Transitional Living Center in Camarillo; the employees at Mustang Marketing in Newbury Park, 10 balls; Julie Merrick, one football, one soccer ball and one basketball; Kathy and Alan Hammerand, one football and one soccer ball; Patricia Dumont, in honor of her brother Pete, four basketballs, two soccer balls and two footballs to the Firehouse for the Spark of Love Drive to benefit foster children; Roselind Seats, one basketball, noting, “I used to donate toys for younger children, but I noticed that the young ones would have lots of toys donated and older children not so much, so I switched to basketballs”; Mia and Brad Ditto, one soccer ball, one football and one basketball; Grace Brandt, four balls; Georgia and Orvene Carpenter, two basketballs; Sheila Kane McCollum, one football and one basketball, noting, “What a warm and fuzzy feeling being able to give to those who are less fortunate”; Kathy and Howard Reich, who had already given six balls, added seven more.

Steve Snyder, former longtime water polo coach at Royal High School, shared this refection on his ball drive participation: “It caused me to reflect on the daily charge I got from my parents so long ago – ‘Your homework’s done? Good, now get out and play. We’ll call you when dinner’s ready.’ “A lifetime later and I’m still playing outdoors every afternoon – thanks mom and dad. Here’s hoping (the ball donations) inspire a few more kids to get out and play.”

This holiday season 211 deserving kids can now go outside and play with their own new sports balls. Thank you, dear readers. Just sayin’, from the bottom of my heart.

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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-mock-upCheck 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”

Column: 2015 Resolutions

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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Make 2015 A Daily Masterpiece

“New Year’s is a harmless annual institution,” wrote Mark Twain, “of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, and friendly calls, and humbug resolutions, and we wish you to enjoy it with a looseness suited to the greatness of the occasion.”

1newyearIn addition to wishing you and yours a New Year filled with great joy and health, I thought I’d take a moment before 2015 arrives to make some resolutions – humbug and laudable, both. Perhaps you will find some worthy of your own pursuit.

I resolve to …

… keep in mind the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, who wrote: “Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year. He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.”

… own my day.

… try to live up to the wisdom of these lines in Rudyard Kipling’s remarkable poem “If” – “If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster / And treat those two imposters just the same.”

… try to treat Fret and Anxiety like the imposters they are.

… unplug, unplug, unplug.

… sunscreen, sunscreen, sunscreen.

… pass up the nearest open parking spot in order to leave it for someone, perhaps an elderly person, who might find it difficult to walk very far.

… give compliments 100 times more frequently than unsolicited advice.

… not count the items in a person’s crowded basket in front of me at the Ten Items Or Less Express Line. It’s not like an extra three or five items of theirs is going to delay me terribly.

… listen to more live music, the smaller the venue the better.

… listen to others more – and more closely.

… laugh more – including at myself.

… as my hero Coach John  Wooden encouraged and practiced, “Make friendship a fine art.”

… try to, as Eleanor Roosevelt advised, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Or, at least, challenges me.

… heed Samuel Beckett’s wisdom to “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”

… try to suffer fools more gladly. As my Grandpa Ansel said, “It is good at times to deal with ignorant people because it makes you feel so smart.”

… try not to be an ignorant fool too often myself.

… again from Grandpa Ansel, keep in mind: “The only way to travel life’s road is to cross one bridge at a time.”

… read deeply from good books.

… read shallowly from fun books, too.

… use my car horn as though I have to pay $10 for each honk.

… buy two of anything a kid under age 10 is selling.

… check my email in-box less frequently and write more snail-mail letters.

… spend less time on Facebook and more face-to-face time.

… conserve water.

… shop at local small businesses first, local chains second, and buy on-line as a last resort.

… pick up litter and not just on Beach Clean Up days.

… keep a coffee-chain gift card in my wallet for when I come across someone down-on-their-luck.

… stop to smell the roses – and daydream at the clouds and savor sunsets and marvel at starry night skies and appreciate similar works of nature’s art.

… visit more museums.

… heed John Muir’s call to “Keep close to nature’s heart and break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”

… be quicker to forgive.

… be slower to criticize – including of myself.

… give flowers out of the blue and not just to mark special occasions.

… keep in mind the words of Wayne Bryan, which his twin sons Mike and Bob put into action so wonderfully: “If you don’t make an effort to help others less fortunate than you, then you’re just wasting your time on Earth.”

Lastly, again as Coach Wooden advised, I resolve in 2015 to try to “Make each day a masterpiece.”

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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-mock-upCheck 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”

Column: Balls Bouncing In

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

Readers Deck Halls With Sports Balls

The day before my annual “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive” kicked off, serial supporters Howard and Kathy Reich got things rolling – and bouncing – by donating two basketballs, two playground balls and two footballs.

Jim Cowan also enthusiastically jumped the gun by delivering ten basketballs – one each in honor of mentors who played important roles in his life – to the Ventura Boys & Girls Club. He happily noted: “They remembered me from past deliveries.”

BallDriveThe generosity has continued and to date, dear readers, you have donated 93 new sports balls to give local disadvantaged kids reason to smile.

There’s still time to drop off gift balls at any local youth organization – and please email word of your donation to woodywriter@gmail.com so it can be added to the final tally.

Here are some more generous givers to further inspire you:

Former Star – and all-star – sportswriter Jim Parker was as quick with the giving as he always was on a keyboard, and on Day 1 donated a basketball and soccer ball at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Ventura.

“I donated a football and basketball to the Montalvo Boys & Girls Club in honor of my brother, Michael Demeter, a great person and athlete who will be glad kids will be helped,” wrote Allison Johnson.

Draza Mrvichin dropped off two basketballs, four soccer balls and five baseballs to the Saticoy Boys & Girls Club.

Dorothy Jue Lee donated two official NFL footballs and one NBA basketball, noting: “As a retired elementary teacher I know how valuable balls are for children.” A week later, Dorothy decided she wanted to do more and gave another football and basketball to the Salvation Army, a recipient choice that honors the memory of Julius Gius who originated The Star’s annual Bellringer Campaign.

Kate Larsen, also a teacher, also donated to the Salvation Army, giving one football, one soccer ball and one basketball, noting: “It’s something to get the kids out of the house and off their electronic games.”

Another teacher, Kathy McAlpine, and her husband Ken, donated a soccer ball and Jane Montague dished out one basketball.

Glen Sittel donated one soccer ball, basketball and football and shared: “My son’s favorite ‘toy’ was always a ball and I think of the great times any parent can have with their children with something as simple as a ball. In addition, this gets the kids away from our electronic age and back to good old outdoor fun and exercise.”

Joann VanBuskirk, who donated two balls, similarly noted: “Sixty minutes a day is the new slogan to get kids outside and your ball drive will help a lot.”

Karyne and Tom Roweton gave one basketball, football and soccer ball.

Norma Zuber enlisted her sisterhood at Ventura’s Philanthropic Educational Organization Chapter FZ and donated four basketballs, four soccer balls and four regulation softballs. PEO’s motto is “Helping women reach for the stars” but it also helps girls – and boys – do so.

In addition to donating regulation-size basketball, football and soccer balls to Oxnard Fire Station No. 1, Sally and Tom Reeder added a fourth ball, explaining: “We lost a little boy this year – the grandson of our dear friends – who was 16 months old. In memory of Aiden we added one small soccer ball.”

Despite being hobbled by recent knee-replacement surgery, Audrey Rubin bought and delivered one soccer ball and football “in honor of my two bright, healthy (and athletic) darling grandkids.”

Linda and Jerry Mendelsohn did something even more important than donate 20 soccer balls to Westpark’s Police Activities League after-school sports program – they got their 4-year-old grandson involved in the philanthropy.

“I took Garrick shopping with me, explaining again why we do this – to help kids who might not get something for Christmas,” Jerry wrote. “He helped me pick out size 3, 4 and 5 soccer balls, load them into the shopping cart, then onto the conveyer at the register, and, finally, into the car for transport to my office, where we unloaded. The feeling that comes from doing this for disadvantaged kids is priceless.”

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

Check 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”

Column: Some Best Books

by Woody

Dealing Out Some Winning Books

Amos Bronson Alcott, an 18th century teacher and writer, observed: “That is a good book which is opened with expectation and closed with profit.”

Annually, I try to expectantly open 52 books and in recent years have shared brief summaries here of a few I highly recommend.

1-MBFF_coverThis year, however, I’m listing only the titles and authors of nine books that you can check out further on-line – or, better yet, in a brick-and-mortar bookstore – and focusing my attention on a 10th book I think most everyone will close with lasting profit.

New also, at the suggestion of voracious reader Scott Harris, this year I kept track of my progress by using a deck of playing cards as 52 different bookmarks.

My endorsements off the fiction shelves: Bookmark two of spades was “To Kill a Mockingbird” by Harper Lee; ten of spades was “Beautiful Ruins” by Jess Walter; five of diamonds was “To Have and Have Not” by Ernest Hemingway; five of clubs was “Juncture” by Ken McAlpine; jack of clubs was “Pastures of Heaven” by John Steinbeck.

And nonfiction: Eight of clubs was “How We Got To Now: Six Innovations That Made the Modern World” by Steven Johnson; nine of clubs was “Death of a King: The Real Story of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Final Year” by Tavis Smiley; three of hearts was “The Innovators: How a Group of Hackers, Geniuses, and Geeks Created the Digital Revolution” by Walter Isaacson; jack of hearts was “Don’t Give Up, Don’t Give In: Lessons from an Extraordinary Life Hardcover” by Louis Zamperini.

Card No. 52, the king of hearts, was a serendipitous bookmark because “My Best Friend’s Funeral,” a new memoir by Ventura’s own Roger W. Thompson, gripped my heart royally.

“When you’ve cried and cried and your eyes can produce no more tears, they begin to come from someplace else,” Roger writes about the loss of his best friend of 20 years, Tim Garrety. “They come from pieces of your heart, broken like jagged stones, and must be pushed from your body. The pain is beyond bearing.”

For Roger, this unbearable pain also included his dad’s death. Roger was 13.

“I grew up believing in God and prayed earnestly for my dad to get better,” Roger writes. “I even believed the power of my prayers would save him. When he died in spite of my efforts to convince God otherwise, I eventually stopped praying. It’s hard to trust a God who doesn’t look after little kids.”

It was a kid who stepped forward to look after Roger; Tim befriended him when he most needed one.

1-insideMBFFWhile pain runs through the chapters like trout through High Sierra streams, more powerful is the friendship, fun and faith that flows. Indeed, this is a coming-of-age story revolving around surfing and skateboarding, guitars and girls, loss and love, play and work, marriage and fatherhood.

Ventura is also an important character, from Buena High School to downtown, from Hobo Jungle to Two Trees, from Surfer’s Point to Skate Street indoor skate park Roger and Tim cofounded.

Of his father’s long battle with drug addiction, Roger writes: “In the end, my hero lost. That was the day I stopped believing in heroes.”

Actually, as the pages turn and turn, we learn Roger hasn’t stopped believing. His father remains larger than life in his eyes; his grandfather is his hero; Tim’s own troubled father eventually becomes heroic, too, slaying his alcohol dragon.

And, of course, Tim is Roger’s hero.

To the reader, another hero emerges: Roger.

In the beautiful eulogy he delivers for Tim – who died at age 33, the same age Roger’s dad died – Roger said: “He lived full of faith, grace, hope, and love.”

It is an apt description of the author and “My Best Friend’s Funeral.”

Moments before delivering the eulogy for his best friend in the Ventura Theater filled – as they had once dreamed as boys in a rock band – to standing room only, Roger heard a question in his soul, in Tim’s voice: “Are you living a life that matters?”

Roger Thompson has certainly written a book that matters.

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

 Check 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”

Column: Let It Rain

by Woody

Raindrops, Please Keep Fallin’ on Our Heads

Burt Bacharach composed all the right notes, but I think he got the lyrics wrong in his Oscar-winning Best Original Song “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” from the 1969 film “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

1-rainHe begins: “Raindrops keep falling on my head / And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed / Nothin’ seems to fit / Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling.”

Lamenting rain? Not in California where we need to consider swapping the grizzly bear on our state flag for a Sahara camel. The rain clouds earlier this week fit just fine, thank you.

More Bacharach: “So I just did me some talkin’ to the sun / And I said I didn’t like the way he got things done / Sleepin’ on the job / Those raindrops are falling on my, head they keep falling.”

Sleeping on the job? Our Southern California sun is more overworked than a UPS driver in December. If it weren’t for homeowners living in the dangerous shadows of burned foothill areas, I’d say let our sun sleep on the job like Rip Van Winkle.

The recent rains were a welcomed sight – and sound. There is nothing like falling to sleep with raindrops dancing on the roof. Mozart never sounded sweeter, if you ask me.

As for sights, watching children walking to school in bright raincoats and ponchos or carrying Disney-character umbrellas is the stuff of Norman Rockwell even in 2014. Better yet is to see school kids jumping in puddles and even though you can’t hear their laughter over the noise of your car’s wiper blades you can vicariously feel their joy.

Equally blissful is to be a grown-up acting like a child, stomping in puddles while out on a workout run. I know because I did just that while listening to raindrops falling on my head as a soundtrack instead of the usual playlist on my iPod. Afterwards, I peeled off about 20 pounds of soaked clothes and shoes in the laundry room, all the while feeling like I was 7-years-old again and coming inside from a wet and wonderful day sledding in Ohio.

After a couple of these sloppy runs it was a letdown to have the sun quit sleepin’ on the job.

Bacharach continued: “But there’s one thing I know / The blues he sends to meet me won’t defeat me / It won’t be long ’till happiness steps up to greet me / Raindrops keep falling on my head.”

Here’s one thing I know – rain doesn’t give me the blues. Heck, I even saw a man whose backyard resembled Pompeii after Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD, interviewed on the TV news the other night saying that we need the rain and the mudslide won’t defeat him.

The scattered property damages, injuries and traffic problems aside, rain greets us with happiness. The happiness of a couple walking hand-in-hand on the beach promenade; anglers fishing off the pier; surfers doing rain dances on their boards.

Bacharach’s closing verse: “But that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turnin’ red / Crying’s not for me / ’Cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complainin’ / Because I’m free / Nothing’s worrying me.”

Rain makes me feel like rejoicing, not crying. And I’m far from alone because in the past couple years I can’t remember any Californians complainin’ about rain. To the contrary, conversations and Facebook posts and Twitter tweets celebrate precipitation.

The drought is what worries us. Raindrops make us feel free. We embrace our fresh-scrubbed world because we know the sun will start gettin’ things done soon enough. It’s the storm clouds we need to do some talkin’ to.

When the raindrops keep fallin’ on my head, I feel like singin’. I think Gene Kelly’s character in the 1952 Hollywood musical “Singin’ in the Rain” got it right: “I’m singing in the rain / Just singing in the rain / What a glorious feelin’ / I’m happy again.”

Glorious, indeed. As Eric Clapton sings, “Let It Rain.” Again, soon.

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

Check 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”

 

Column: Holiday Ball Drive

by Woody

 ‘Holiday Ball Drive’ is kids’ stuff

Editorials are generally as disposable as the newsprint on which they are printed, and yet one that appeared in The New York Sun in 1897 might as well have been carved in granite because it remains relevant and favored well over a century later.

BallDriveHeadlined “Is There a Santa Claus” it began with a letter from young Virginia O’Hanlon:

“Dear Editor –

“I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, ‘If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.’ Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?”

The Sun’s reply included the now famous line, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus,” and continued: “He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence.”

Indeed, how dreary would the world be with no Virginias – and, alas! no Briannas, Sarahs, Mitches and Myas.

In the spirit of love and generosity, “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive” officially kicks off its annual efforts today to bring a small measure of joy into the lives of disadvantaged children.

The seed for this endeavor was planted about 20 years ago at a youth basketball clinic when former Ventura College and NBA star Cedric Ceballos awarded autographed basketballs to handful of lucky attendees.

Leaving the gym afterward, I happened upon a 10-year-old boy who had 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 he hadn’t carefully taken the trophy basketball home to put safely on a bookshelf, I interrupted his playing to ask.

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

1ballsAt Christmastime, visions of that boy – and other boys and girls like him, who don’t have their own basketball to shoot or soccer ball to kick or football to throw – danced through my head. So I asked you dear readers to help make the holidays happier by dropping off a new sports ball (no batteries required) at a local Boys & Girls Club, YMCA, youth recreation center, fire department, Special Olympics chapter or house of worship. The organization’s leaders will see that the gifts wind up in deserving young hands.

Over the years you have responded like MVPs – Most Valuable Philanthropists – and I am once again asking you to deck the halls with sports balls. If you participate, please email me at woodywriter@gmail.com so I can add your generosity to this year’s tally.

It is not only kids who receive the gift balls, some of the most inspiring donors have been kids, too.

Kids like 10-year-old Sarah and 8-year-old Mitch who emptied their “Jar” of chore money to buy a soccer ball and football to donate.

Kids like 12-year-old Mya who used babysitting money to buy seven soccer balls.

Kids have used their birthday money to buy gift balls and one boy asked his grandparents for a new football – and could he please have it a week early so as to have time to donate it to someone who otherwise wouldn’t get a Christmas present?

Kids like 9-year-old Brianna, who wrote me: “I saw your wish list in the newspaper and I wanted to help. I know how important it is to help others. So this year I saved money by collecting recyclables. So I was able to give: 5 basketballs, 2 footballs, 2 soccer balls, 1 volleyball, 1 bag of baseballs, 1 bag of softballs. I hope this helps.”

What The Sun declared more than a century ago it says here today in The Star: Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and kids like Brianna, Sarah, Mitch, Mya and other amazing kids like them exist.

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

Check 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”