Ball Givers Spread Abundance of Love

To be honest, I was worried that with inflation inflating the prices of sports balls the number of gifts given to “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive” would be deflated compared to years past.

            How happily wrong I was!

Before revealing this year’s finally tally, here are some more Most Valuable Philanthropists…

Nick Sarris donated 34 balls “in memory of baby Sienna” and Rebecca Fox gave two “in honor of Arlys Tuttle’s recent 100th birthday!”

Scott and Randi Harris gave six balls, noting: “We love to think of children running, playing and laughing – maybe even forgetting about some of the unfair challenges, if only for a little while.”

Ann Cowan continued her late husband Jim’s annual tradition by giving 10 basketballs and legendary basketball coaches Joe Vaughan Mickey Perry also gave 10.

Sandra Janotta donated six balls; Ethel Yim gave five; Bob Vrtis, four; Jane Eller, three, Steve and Bobbin Yarbrough, two; and the Robles family gave one.

Susan Adamich gave one ball; Christine Weidenheimer, two; Doris Brown, three; Rick and Lucie Estberg, four; Judy Magee Windle, five; and Richard Bergman donated six.

Charla and Tom Mooney gave 23 balls “in honor of our 23 grandchildren” and Mary Samples similarly gave one ball each in honor of her three grandchildren.

Chuck and Ann Elliott similarly gave 10 balls “in honor of the young people who may be inspired by them to pursue their dreams in life” and Steve McFadden donated four balls in memory of his dad, Harold.

The Hein family – Chris, Julie, Audrey and Howie – gave two balls; Anna and Tom McBreen did likewise; and so did Cristina Kildee. Ken and Elaine Lyle, and their grandsons Josh and Corbin, also gave two balls.

The Clayton Family – Denny, Peggi and Paige – donated three balls, as did Tim and Peggy Hughes.

An anonymous donor gave 24 balls “in memory Gary, who believed youth sports were essential in building confidence, sportsmanship and discipline; all characteristics that benefit not only the individual, but society in general.”

Jan and Tom Lewis gave ten basketballs “in memory of Charlie Feyh, coach of the Ventura Nets girls basketball teams; and Rick Masterson, former announcer for Buena High girls basketball.”

Lynne and Don Steensma donated eight balls, as did Dan and Judy Dugan; Bobbie and Dave Williams gave six, as did Kathleen Selmer; and Sheila and Vivienne Raives gave five, as did Sol Chooljian and Laura McAvoy.

Margie Chespak and Jim Tankersley donated a dozen balls “in memory of Pete Ackermann, a wonderful, godly man and Oaks Christian legend” and one ball was given anonymously “in memory of Armando Luna.”

Wendy Spasiano donated 19 balls; Jeff and Anne Barks gave a baker’s dozen; Brad and Mia Ditto gave 11; Karen and Dave Brooks gave 10, as did Joann Cooper; Shelly and Steve Brown gave five; David and Shelley Cole gave four; and Tom and Karyne Roweton gave two.

Patrons of The Goebel Adult Community Center in Thousand Oaks donated 79 balls and Camarillo Somis and Pleasant Valley Lions Club gave 122 more.

In another shared effort, 220 balls were given by a group of family members and friends who wished to only have their first names used: Alma, Aric and Margarita, Allen and Alast, Rachel and Michael, Emma, Rick and Nancy, Shaun and Ruth, Andy and Connie, Christine and Tyler, Alma and Tomas, Juan; Mike and Claudia, Phil and Charlene, Steve and MaryKay, John and Kellie, Debbie, Will, Maddie, Pam, Dave, Lane, Michelle and Michael, Rose and Jace, Achilles and Caren, Ron and Anita, and Ricky and Beverly.

John and Sharon Onyshko, with the help of their grandchildren – Gage Redwine; and Colton, Charlotte and Maverick Onyshko – donated 14 balls while Dody Blankenburg took her two granddaughters, Bowie Ryan and Reagan James Smallwood, to pick out four balls.

 Jim and Sandie Arthur gave a dozen “in honor of our beloved daughters and three grown grandchildren” and Allison Johnson gave two balls “in honor my brother, Michael Demeter.”

 “In honor and loving memory of our brother and cousin, Michael Kendlinger,” Brandon and Tommy Kendlinger, and Elijah Ontiveros, donated 18 balls while Leslie Seifert-De Los Santos, son Nicholas, and family gave 10 balls “in remembrance of Manuel De Los Santos.”

An anonymous donor gave “eleven basketballs in memory of Karen, Larry, Suz, Jeanie, John, James, Eric, Keith, Rich, Louise, Becky – and a twelfth in honor of everyone who is currently fighting cancer.” Four and two more balls were also given anonymously.

Ken and Kathy McAlpine gave three balls; Greg and Jess Woodburn gave two; and a dozen balls came from a married couple who wished to anonymously “spread some love.”

An abundance of love was indeed spread this year in the form of 1,038 young holiday smiles, smashing last year’s previous record ball total of 891.

“My beloved mom told me,” former Rhodes Scholar Pat Haden once shared with me, “that the words ‘thank you’ are the most powerful words in the English language.”

To each and everyone who helped spread the love by giving one ball, or many, I say most earnestly, “Thank you!”

Make Heart Go Aflutter In New Year

Chase butterflies.

          When asked to write a brief essay on the topic “A Letter Of Advice To My 21-Year-Old Self,” that was my answer in a nutshell: Chase butterflies.

            As we toe the starting line for a new lap around the sun in 2023, it seems to me that chasing butterflies is timely counsel for all ages, old and young, not just 21. Let me explain.

Even though Spring is a fair ways off, turning the calendar page from December to January always brings to my mind a butterfly emerging from its cocoon: the caterpillar’s past has been shed and left behind and the world is fresh and full of promise.

Moreover, most butterflies emerge in the morning – again, the image of a new year’s rosy beginning. Indeed, New Year’s resolutions are goals for a personal metamorphosis of sorts.

            But my prescription to chase butterflies is more than metaphorical. Remember in your youth when you raced, wielding a long-handled net, after Monarchs or Swallowtails? Few images of girlhood or boyhood are more carefree.

Perhaps you did not even catch any butterflies. That didn’t even matter because the joy was in the running, in the sport of it, in the zig-zagging through a field until you were out of breath – the breathlessness, in part, from laughing at your “failure” to catch the elusive flittering prey.

            Lesson from the child: when was the last time you laughed off “failure” instead of letting it deflate you like a punctured tire? To be sure, we would all do well to pursue our adult endeavors with the same sense of joy and play we did while racing barefooted in the summer grass in happy pursuit of rainbow-winged flying flower.

            Chasing butterflies means going outside your safe cocoon of a comfort zone. Ernest Hemingway once told a friend, who kept putting off undertaking a challenging task because he had never tried it before: “What’s that got to do with it? I had no experience writing a novel until I wrote the first one.”

As the Roman poet Virgil noted, “Fortune favors the bold.” Fortune favors butterfly chasers, say I.

In that essay letter to my 21-year-old college self, I wrote: “Remember the swarm of butterflies doing cartwheels in your stomach the first time you asked out that gorgeous girl you are now dating? Spoiler alert, Woody – that works out marvelously even 42 years later!”

Mark Twain wisely put it thusly: “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

He might have well added: Do things that make the butterflies in your belly take flight.

So throw off your bowlines in 2023. Learn a new language. Take guitar lessons. Enroll in a painting class. Train for a marathon. Try surfing. Climb Mount Whitney. Write that novel you have long felt you have inside you. Ask someone on a date – or accept the invite. Chase your dreams. Travel. Explore. Go sailing. Go for it!

            I closed my letter to my younger self with John Wooden’s “7-Point Creed,” which I consider to be concise wisdom of great breadth and depth: “Be true to yourself. Make each day your masterpiece. Help others. Drink deeply from good books. Make friendship a fine art. Build a shelter against a rainy day. Pray for guidance and give thanks for your blessings every day.”

            And I concluded with an eighth point: Chase butterflies.

*   *   *

Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

Ball Givers Spread Tons Love

To be honest, I was worried that with inflation inflating the prices of sports balls the number of gifts given to “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive” would be deflated compared to years past.

            How happily wrong I was!

Before revealing this year’s finally tally, here are some more Most Valuable Philanthropists…

Nick Sarris donated 34 balls “in memory of baby Sienna” and Rebecca Fox gave two “in honor of Arlys Tuttle’s recent 100th birthday!”

Scott and Randi Harris gave six balls, noting: “We love to think of children running, playing and laughing – maybe even forgetting about some of the unfair challenges, if only for a little while.”

Ann Cowan continued her late husband Jim’s annual tradition by giving 10 basketballs and legendary basketball coaches Joe Vaughan Mickey Perry also gave 10.

Sandra Janotta donated six balls; Ethel Yim gave five; Bob Vrtis, four; Jane Eller, three, Steve and Bobbin Yarbrough, two; and the Robles family gave one.

A record avalanche of gift sports balls came in this year!

Susan Adamich gave one ball; Christine Weidenheimer, two; Doris Brown, three; Rick and Lucie Estberg, four; Judy Magee Windle, five; and Richard Bergman donated six.

Charla and Tom Mooney gave 23 balls “in honor of our 23 grandchildren” and Mary Samples similarly gave one ball each in honor of her three grandchildren.

Chuck and Ann Elliott similarly gave 10 balls “in honor of the young people who may be inspired by them to pursue their dreams in life” and Steve McFadden donated four balls in memory of his dad, Harold.

The Hein family – Chris, Julie, Audrey and Howie – gave two balls; Anna and Tom McBreen did likewise; and so did Cristina Kildee. Ken and Elaine Lyle, and their grandsons Josh and Corbin, also gave two balls.

The Clayton Family – Denny, Peggi and Paige – donated three balls, as did Tim and Peggy Hughes.

An anonymous donor gave 24 balls “in memory Gary, who believed youth sports were essential in building confidence, sportsmanship and discipline; all characteristics that benefit not only the individual, but society in general.”

Jan and Tom Lewis gave ten basketballs “in memory of Charlie Feyh, coach of the Ventura Nets girls basketball teams; and Rick Masterson, former announcer for Buena High girls basketball.”

Lynne and Don Steensma donated eight balls, as did Dan and Judy Dugan; Bobbie and Dave Williams gave six, as did Kathleen Selmer; and Sheila and Vivienne Raives gave five, as did Sol Chooljian and Laura McAvoy.

Margie Chespak and Jim Tankersley donated a dozen balls “in memory of Pete Ackermann, a wonderful, godly man and Oaks Christian legend” and one ball was given anonymously “in memory of Armando Luna.”

Wendy Spasiano donated 19 balls; Jeff and Anne Barks gave a baker’s dozen; Brad and Mia Ditto gave 11; Karen and Dave Brooks gave 10, as did Joann Cooper; Shelly and Steve Brown gave five; David and Shelley Cole gave four; and Tom and Karyne Roweton gave two.

Patrons of The Goebel Adult Community Center in Thousand Oaks donated 79 balls and Camarillo Somis and Pleasant Valley Lions Club gave 122 more.

In another shared effort, 220 balls were given by a group of family members and friends who wished to only have their first names used: Alma, Aric and Margarita, Allen and Alast, Rachel and Michael, Emma, Rick and Nancy, Shaun and Ruth, Andy and Connie, Christine and Tyler, Alma and Tomas, Juan; Mike and Claudia, Phil and Charlene, Steve and MaryKay, John and Kellie, Debbie, Will, Maddie, Pam, Dave, Lane, Michelle and Michael, Rose and Jace, Achilles and Caren, Ron and Anita, and Ricky and Beverly.

John and Sharon Onyshko, with the help of their grandchildren – Gage Redwine; and Colton, Charlotte and Maverick Onyshko – donated 14 balls while Dody Blankenburg took her two granddaughters, Bowie Ryan and Reagan James Smallwood, to pick out four balls.

 Jim and Sandie Arthur gave a dozen “in honor of our beloved daughters and three grown grandchildren” and Allison Johnson gave two balls “in honor my brother, Michael Demeter.”

 “In honor and loving memory of our brother and cousin, Michael Kendlinger,” Brandon and Tommy Kendlinger, and Elijah Ontiveros, donated 18 balls while Leslie Seifert-De Los Santos, son Nicholas, and family gave 10 balls “in remembrance of Manuel De Los Santos.”

An anonymous donor gave “eleven basketballs in memory of Karen, Larry, Suz, Jeanie, John, James, Eric, Keith, Rich, Louise, Becky – and a twelfth in honor of everyone who is currently fighting cancer.” Four and two more balls were also given anonymously.

Ken and Kathy McAlpine gave three balls; Greg and Jess Woodburn gave two; and a dozen balls came from a married couple who wished to anonymously “spread some love.”

An abundance of love was indeed spread this year in the form of 1,038 young holiday smiles, smashing last year’s previous record ball total of 891.

“My beloved mom told me,” former Rhodes Scholar Pat Haden once shared with me, “that the words ‘thank you’ are the most powerful words in the English language.”

To each and everyone who helped spread the love by giving one ball, or many, I say most earnestly, “Thank you!”

*   *   *

Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

Part 2: Books That K.O.’d Me In 2022

When a book really knocks me out, to paraphrase Holden Caulfield in the knockout novel “The Catcher in the Rye,” I like to pick up another offering by the same author. This habit served me well in 2022 during my annual quest to read at least one book a week for the calendar year.

Paul Gallico originally knocked me out many years ago with “The Snow Goose,” a novella I have reread umpteen times, and this year I visited him anew with “Mrs. Harris Goes To Paris.” This slim book was so thick with fun that I instantly picked up its sequel, “Mrs. Harris Goes to New York,” which was about twice as long and I think I liked it twice as much simply because I had already fallen in love with the feisty and lovely Mrs. Harris.

“84, Charing Cross Road” by Helene Haff is another absolutely charming little book that will be especially loved by those who adore bookstores. This London “Road” led me to Haff’s “Q’s Legacy: A Delightful Account of a Lifelong Love Affair with Books,” a sequel that is actually a prequel. Both are quite enjoyable, but if you only read one of the two go with “84.”

I’m not sure which I favored more from Antoine Laurain – “The Red Notebook,” a mystery and love story kneaded into one, or “French Rhapsody” about the members of a band that missed out on a record label deal because a letter was lost in the mail only to be delivered 33 years later.

Speaking of music, Jennifer E. Smith’s “The Unsinkable Greta James,” about an indie rock star whose star has fallen and who has had a falling out with her widower father and finds herself on an Alaskan cruise ship with him, was in the running for my favorite book of the year. Three more contenders were “The Violin Conspiracy” by Brendan Slocumb; “Cloud Cuckoo Land” by Anthony Doerr; and “The River Why” by David James Duncan.

The beautiful writing in “The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey” by Walter Mosely led me to his imaginative and powerful short story collection “The Awkward Black Man.” Two more short-stories home runs are “The Angel of Rome: And Other Stories” by Jess Walters and “Liberation Day” by George Saunders.

Six more high-fives: “The Bartender’s Tale” by Ivan Doig; “The Cicada Tree,” a debut novel set in the South by Robert Gwaltney; “The Reading List” by Sara Nisha; “Under the Wave at Waimea” by Paul Theroux; and “Catcher’s Keepers” by J.D. Spero, imagining what if Holden Caufield had met John Lennon’s killer before the assassination happened. Also, with the disclaimer that he’s my second cousin, the novel “Cutter” by J. Woodburn Barney.

“What The Wind Knows” by Amy Harmon is an engaging time-travel story anchored around the Irish Revolution in the early 1900s. Speaking of Ireland, I happened upon Irish writer Claire Keegan’s “Small Things Like These” which led me to her “Foster.” Both novellas are very short, and very good, with hints of “David Copperfield.”

The new novel “Demon Copperhead,” meanwhile, carries more than a mere hint in its 560 pages. Naming a title character so closely to Charles’ Dickens’ famous orphan protagonist, with an echoing theme, sets a high bar but Barbara Kingsolver’s masterful storytelling is tall to the task.

Indeed, excluding my daughter Dallas’s two 2022 releases – the YA novel “Thanks, Carissa, For Ruining My Life” and adult short story collection “How to Make Paper When the World is Ending” – “Demon Copperhead” knocked me out more than any other book in 2022.

*   *   *

Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

Turning The Pages In 2022

Amos Bronson Alcott, an 18th century teacher and writer – and, famously, father of Louisa May Alcott, who wrote the very good book “Little Women” – once observed: “That is a good book which is opened with expectation and closed with profit.”

In 2022, in my annual quest to read a book a week, I have to date triumphantly opened 59 covers with expectation but admittedly closed quite a few without profit. Moreover, because I tend to be as stubborn as a grease stain in my insistence to always finish a book, I closed a fistful feeling a debt of time wasted.

But my hardheadedness has its limits and twice this year I gave up on novels after about 50 pages. After all, as French essayist Joseph Joubert wrote, “The worst thing about new books is that they keep us from reading the old ones.” Surely the same is true of books, old or new, that are the reading equivalent of scrubbing a floor.

I’m sure you are wondering the titles of the two books I threw the sponge in on. My lips are sealed for I would sooner insult a meal at friend’s home than publicly disparage a book. Most likely the blame lies with my finicky palate, not my hosts’ culinary skills; on my reading tastes, not the author’s storytelling.

Mark Twain was of the same mind, although with exceptions, noting: “I haven’t any right to criticize books, and I don’t except when I hate them. I often want to criticize Jane Austen, but her books madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to stop every time I begin. Every time I read ‘Pride and Prejudice’ I want to dig her up and bat her over the skull with her own shin-bone.”

Hence, I offer this enthusiastic book blurb for both of the books I abandoned: “Mark Twain would surely compare (title here) to ‘Pride and Prejudice’!”

When I do close a book with profit, I generally will try another one by the author – and, oftentimes, another and another and so on. Indeed, it is a delight to discover a writer you haven’t before read who gives you such a thrill you gobble up the rest of their titles like a literary Pac-Man. Brian Doyle did that for me late last year after reading, and recommending here, “One Long River of Song”. This year I devoured six more of his offerings, all of which I enjoyed, notably the novels “Mink River” and “Martin Marten” and most especially “Chicago: A Novel”

On the other hand, if I feel like swinging a shinbone as Mr. Twain did, I will usually leave the author be. One exception, however, is Elizabeth Strout. Despite being greatly disappointed with “Oliver Kitteridge”, for which she won the Pulitzer Prize, I in turn read “My Name is Lucy Barton”, “Olive Again” and “Oh William!” and liked them no better.

I finally concluded Elizabeth Strout is my Twain-ian Jane Austen, a widely popular taste I can’t seem to acquire. This pained me because I’ve seen Strout speak in person and found her extremely engaging.

My wife, however, adores Strout’s writing and for her birthday I gave her Strout’s latest bestseller, “Lucy by the Sea”. One evening, out of curiosity, I took a peek at the opening page…

…and kept turning the pages late into the night, captivated by this COVID-19 tale. Indeed, it is one of my favorite books this year. Next week, I will fill up a short shelf with some more profitable reads.

*

There is still time to become an MVP by dropping off new balls (no batteries required!) at Jensen Design & Survey at 1672 Donlon St., Ventura CA 93003 (weekdays from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.); or have online orders shipped to this same address; and I will take it from there.

And please be sure to email me at woodywriter@gmail.com about your gift so I can add your generosity to this year’s tally and thank you in an upcoming column.

*   *   *

Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

MVPs Scoring for Ball Drive

Highlights during the 2022 FIFA World Cup have thus far been many and spectacular, but the flying soccer balls that have truly grabbed my attention – and heart – are those coming in for my annual Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive.

Basketballs and footballs, too, all to be given to local disadvantaged kids. For many of these recipients it will be the only holiday gift they receive. Below are some of this year’s early MVPs (Most Valuable Philanthropists)…

Jerry and Linda Mendelsohn took four of their six grandchildren – Garrick, 12; Dannika, 9; Parker, 8; and Joy, 4 – to personally pick out a mix of 20 basketballs and soccer balls.

Ben Coats, noting that “all kids need something to smile about on Christmas,” gave a baker’s dozen of soccer balls.

Some of the gifts for kids!

Kay Giles and Michael Mariani kicked in six soccer balls.

Kay and Ray Morgan dished out 15 assists in basketballs.

Ron Lay donated one basketball as did Bob and Rebecca McAuley.

“Envisioning more happy faces on boys and girls receiving these gift balls each year is such a wonderful feeling,” wrote Glen Sittel, who donated four smiles.

“It felt great!” said Carrie Wolfe, who gave three smiles.

Rick and Mary Whiting gave two each soccer balls and basketballs.

Toby Petty donated three soccer balls as did Linda Peddie.

Sally and Tom Reeder gave a variety of 15 balls, noting that their shopping spree was “a glorious day and one of our favorites!”

Fran and Kate Larsen donated one football and three soccer balls.

“One of our favorite reminders that the holiday season is upon us is when we see your column in The Star advising that it is time for your Ball Drive,” wrote Alan and Kathy Hammerand who donated a mixture of 11 balls.

Joe Wigert gave five basketballs.

Lynn Kenton gave three basketballs and one soccer ball.

Lynda Rice donated two soccer balls, and 10 ball pumps as well, in memory of her mom, Mercedes Johnson, noting: “She was the type of person who was always gathering donations and reaching out to those who needed help.”

Charis Werner donated 10 various balls: “In memory of sweet Arrow, a dog who loved a good game of chase the ball!”

Tim Hansen tossed in an assortment of 10 balls and Peggy Greathouse and family donated five basketballs.

Irma Paramo and her neighbor, Kay Handlin, donated seven basketballs, noting: “I’m sure the Ball Drive will make a lot of children happy!”

Howard Reich did his part to make eight kids happy and Kent Brinkmeyer added three more smiles.

“In memory of Tim ‘Ute9’ Fahringer, a loyal friend and teammate,” a donor who wished to remain anonymous gave four each basketballs, soccer balls and footballs.

Another kind soul who wished to remain anonymous gave one dozen basketballs in memory of the late Jim Cowan, who always donated the very same.

“I wish I could give 100 balls,” said Kym King, a queen of kindness by giving 10 basketballs.

Maya Woodburn McAuley, my precious granddaughter who turns four this month, enthusiastically picked out and gave three balls from herself and her parents.

There is still time to become an MVP by dropping off new balls (no batteries required!) at Jensen Design & Survey at 1672 Donlon St., Ventura CA 93003 (weekdays from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.); or have online orders shipped to this same address; and I will take it from there.

And please be sure to email me at woodywriter@gmail.com about your gift so I can add your generosity to this year’s tally and thank you in an upcoming column.

*   *   *

Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Faces As Memorable As Places

Words fail me, and colossally so, in trying to describe seeing the Colosseum in Rome in person.

Since it is one of the iconic Seven Wonders of the World, here are seven adjectives to begin: spectacular, amazing, awe-inspiring, astonishing, breathtaking, magnificent, wondrous.

Meanwhile, seven full entries from a thesaurus cannot do justice to the La Sagrada Familia basilica in Barcelona. Designed by Antonio Gaudi, the towering cathedral is truly the most spectacular-amazing-awe-inspiring-astonishing-breathtaking-magnificent-wondrous building, outside and in, I have ever set eyes upon.

La Sangrada Familia from the outside…

To borrow Hollywood’s practice of pitching a new script by combining two known movies, La Sagrada Familia is Dr. Seuss’s imaginative drawings meet John Muir’s love of giant redwoods. Indeed, just as Muir believed nature was a church, Gaudi felt nature should be in a church and thus designed the interior marble columns to resemble a petrified forest of soaring trees.

As unforgettable as La Sangrada Familia and the Colosseum both are, two small scenes nearby will also long remain in my memory.

Leaving the Colosseum, my wife, who is half-Italian, and I squeezed onto a bench seat in the back of a hop-on hop-off bus. Lisa was next to the window and I was beside a young Italian boy, age 9 or 10, who was with his parents. Naturally, the boy was connected to his iPhone via earbuds.

Meanwhile, Lisa plugged the cord of her solo earbud into a console that provided sightseeing commentary in different languages. As she searched for English without success, the boy turned and said a number in Italian – cinque, I believe it was, which we translated to cinco in Spanish – and indeed channel five made Lisa flash a smile of thanks.

… and a breathtaking inside view.

My console, or perhaps my cheap disposable earbud provided by the tour, was broken as every channel came up empty. Content to view the beautiful city in silence, I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder and the boy offered me one of his two earbuds.

Instead of sightseeing commentary, I was greeted with music. Italian pop, I presume it was, but understanding the lyrics did not matter for the boy’s act of kindness required no translation. For the next 10 minutes or so, we bobbed heads in unison and had a wordless conversation as he pointed at various sights.

“Ciao,” the boy said when his family’s exit came.

“Grazie,” I replied, handing back the borrowed earbud.

A few days later in Barcelona, Lisa and I were enjoying a lunch of tapas and sangria at an outdoor café overlooking a tree-lined grand plaza. Fortunately, our table for two was under a canopy because out of the blue, literally from a blue sky, it began raining fairly hard.

A rainbow soon appeared, not in the sky but on the walkway across the plaza from where we sat. A young man, who I guessed to be in his late teens, was walking with an elderly woman, who I guessed to be his grandmother. She shuffled slowly, holding his arm for balance, and I imagined he was escorting her home.

When the unexpected showers arrived, the grandson quickly removed his long-sleeved flannel shirt and held it over his grandmother’s grey-haired bun and stooped shoulders and continued patiently walking at her unhurried pace despite getting soaked in his T-shirt. I wish you could have seen this love in the rain that was every bit as lovely as La Sagrada Familia was in sunshine the day before.

Once again, the magic of traveling was found as much in faces as in places.

Onward in next week’s column to the French Riviera…

Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive: You can still drop off new sports balls or have online orders shipped to: Jensen Design & Survey, 1672 Donlon St., Ventura CA 93003. And please be sure to email me at woodywriter@gmail.com about your gift so I can add your generosity to this year’s tally and thank you in an upcoming column.

*   *   *

Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Making The Holidays More Perfect: Woody’s Ball Drive Kicks Off

“You can’t live a perfect day,” John Wooden believed, “without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you.”

He taught this lesson by example. One such occasion remains as vivid as if it happened last week, not three decades ago. Actually, it is a series of remembrances that merge into one from every time I visited Coach in his Encino home.

In my mind’s eye I can still see the plastic postal bin, the size of a laundry basket, filled with outgoing fan mail: photographs, trading cards, magazine covers, even basketballs and UCLA jerseys people sent Coach to autograph. Requests for a signed Pyramid of Success were also common.

These gift balls are stacked in a real Pyramid of Successful Giving!

Surprisingly, most of these fans did not enclose return postage. No matter. Coach trekked to the Post Office once a week and footed the bill himself.

Once again, we all have a chance to emulate Coach’s example and live a perfect day by helping others who can never repay us through Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive that kicks off today.

The inspiration for this annual endeavor occurred 25 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 now dribbling on a blacktop outdoor court, and shooting baskets with, all while perhaps imagining he was Ceballos with the game clock ticking down to the final buzzer.

Meanwhile, the real Ceballos’ Sharpie signature was quickly wearing off.

Curious as to why the boy had not protectively taken the trophy basketball home to put safely on a bookshelf, I interrupted his playing to ask.

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

With visions of that boy – and other boys and girls who do not have their own basketball to shoot, soccer ball to kick, football to throw – dancing through my head that winter, I asked you dear readers to help brighten the holidays by donating new sports balls for disadvantaged kids. You responded like champions then and have every year since.

Are you up to the challenge once more? If so, drop off new balls (no batteries required!) at a local Boys & Girls Club, YMCA, Toys For Tots, fire department or house of worship. The organizations will pass them into deserving young hands.

You can also drop balls off (weekdays from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. through Dec. 16) at Jensen Design & Survey at 1672 Donlon St. near Target on Telephone Road in Ventura; or have online orders shipped to this same address (California, Zip Code 93003); and I will take it from there.

And please be sure to email me about your bouncing gifts at woodywriter@gmail.com so I can add your generosity to this year’s tally.

We are already off to an early start as Jim Parker, my old Star colleague, bought three basketballs way back in July. Jim is usually the first to donate, but this year he was beaten to the punch. In March, various members of the Somis Thursday Club donated 12 basketballs with John Vincent, a retired firefighter, adding 10 more, noting: “I didn’t always give to my church the way I should have when I was younger. Now that I’m retired and wiser, I’m trying to make up for it.”

And just before Halloween, Katherine and Frank Anderson gave an early treat with four basketballs while my dad tossed in five footballs.

Together, we can make the holidays a little more perfect.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Moved To Tears By Girl In Pompeii

“We do not take a trip,” John Steinbeck wrote in his 1962 gem, Travels with Charley: In Search of America, “a trip take us.”

In 2022, in search of the Pompeii ruins in Italy during my Travels with Lisa, our 40th wedding anniversary trip took us to tears.

To learn that an estimated 2,000 inhabitants of this ancient city died in less than 15 minutes after Mount Vesuvius, less than 15 miles away, erupted two millennia ago is overwhelming. Indeed, imagining the horror of noon on August 11, 79 A.D. brings to mind the nightmare morning of September 11, 2001.

Strolling the cobblestone streets and alleyways, ducking into living quarters and brothels, seeing the basilica and amphitheatre and the massive main city square with a colossal statue of a centaur warrior, all brought on a sense of wonder.

A narrow alleyway in the ancient ruins of Pompeii.

And yet it was a single room, small and simple, that brought on misty eyes. Here, one story represented every story on that calamitous day. Here, in a sarcophagus-like glass box, was a plaster casting of one of the exhumed victims. Here was a 14-year-old girl.

She died lying prone, forehead resting on her right forearm and left hand covering her nose and mouth, as though she were pleasantly sunbathing on a beach while shielding her eyes from the summer sun and face from wind-blown sand. In truth, she was trying to protect herself from the aerial tsunami of falling ash and swirling gasses that suffocated the residents of Pompeii – in the streets, in their homes, in their beds – long before the molten waves of lava arrived.

A steady line of tourists, hushed and solemn in expression, filed past the plaster girl with many snapping photographs as if this were merely an art sculpture imitating life – or, in this case, death.

The following day, 150 miles to the north in Rome, the Pompeiian girl seemed to reappear on the beautiful Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II pedestrian bridge spanning the Tibre River and connecting the historic city centre with the Vatican. Midway across, and also centered widthwise, was a life-sized sculpture. Instead of white plaster, it was cast iron and grey; instead of a girl in her home, it was a homeless man lying in a similar prone position with his forehead pillowed on a forearm. Again, tourists took pause to reflect in thought and take pictures.

The amphitheatre with a stage of white marble.

Shortly past the end of the triple-arched stone bridge, less than a half-mile walk from St. Peter’s Basilica where the poor are daily blessed, was a third figure in a nearly identical pose as the ancient girl of plaster and the man of iron. But this was a real person, a man, in his fifties perhaps, lying on the sidewalk with his head turned to the side as if taking a swimmer’s breath, a raggedy blanket pulled up to his scraggy-bearded chin.

For all the attention given to the sculpture of a homeless man on the nearby landmark bridge; for all the reverence paid to the Pompeiian girl who died in a famous disaster long, long, long ago; the opposite was now the norm. The person still drawing breath seemed to draw only blind eyes, not empathy.

Homelessness is everydayness in most cities worldwide, yet the manner in which passerby’s collectively sidestepped and averted their eyes from a living person whereas they visually embraced a plaster girl and a cast-iron man, this juxtaposition was as silently heartbreaking as a thunderous Vesuvius eruption.

To be continued, more happily, in Rome in two weeks after the kickoff of Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive next week…

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Greece’s ‘Green Gold’ and Blue Word

“It’s better, I think, when we all stay together,” said Nicolette, a green-eyed, olive-skinned, sunny-voiced, sandy-blonde, thirtyish-year-old Greece native who served as tour guide for our group of two dozen sightseers at the ancient ruins of Olympia.

It seems to me this is wise advice for life in general. As an African proverb puts it: “If you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together.”

Our bus driver, however, wanted to go both fast and far and thus expressed impatient displeasure with the dawdling driver ahead of us by blaring the horn with one hand while making a gesture of anger with the other. With his mouth, he barked briefly in his native tongue.

“We Greeks, we do not respect speed limits and traffic signs,” Nicolette sang out with a laugh, perhaps as a hint to our coachman to not tailgate and certainly not try to pass on this winding two-lane rural road.

Champions at the ancient Olympics received olive wreaths instead of gold medals, Nicolette had explained earlier at the Games’ historic site. Now, on the 30-mile drive back to port in Katakolon, she talked about the golden value of olives.

“We call olives ‘green gold’ because 600,000 families make their livings from growing and selling olives and olive oil,” she said, further noting that almost every family with a backyard has at least one olive tree, and usually three or four – or even 30, as with her childhood home – to produce olive oil for their own use.

“It is not common for people to sell their private olive oil,” Nicolette continued. “If you have more than your family needs, then you give it to friends and coworkers who do not have trees in their family.”

Winter, from early November to Christmas, is olive harvesting season. The “green gold” is always picked by hand because mechanical culling is believed to damage the trees and bring bad luck – and bad taste – to the fruit.

“Picking” is not quite accurate. Men climb the trees and shake the ripe olives loose while women and teens accomplish this by banging the lower limbs with clubs. The fallen gems are then gathered from a tarp below. One tree produces 80 pounds of the stone fruit, give or take, which yields roughly six quarts of liquid gold.

“Olive oil is our culture. My father even makes natural soap from the olive mash – it is so healthy for the skin,” Nicolette said, her flawless fashion-ad complexion serving as evidence of the soap’s beautifying powers.

A few miles later, at a four-way stop, a car to our right came to a full halt and waited even though it had the right of way. This drew the ire of our bus driver.

Ho-n-n-n-n-k! – longer this time.

Hand gesture(!!) – made more wildly.

Two syllables!!! – even louder than before.

“Greeks lack patience,” Nicolette said, again playfully, trying to calm our driver and perhaps rescue her monetary tips. “We are always in a hurry, especially when driving.”

Further proving her point, our bus lurched through the intersection as the other car, its driver obviously not Greek considering his or her patience, remained at a standstill.

“What did our driver say?” I asked Nicolette. Ever the good sport, she repeated it, translated into English, then coached me in pronouncing it correctly.

Obviously, Nicolette’s gratuity from me was not only rescued, but increased twofold. After all, she taught me all about Greece’s “green gold” and also a Greek blue word.

Onward next week to Naples, Italy, and the ancient ruins of Pompeii…

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com