Category Archives: Columns

Column: Portrait of Forgiveness

by Woody | 2 Comments

Portrait of Divine Forgiveness

Serendipity smiled on me last week in a local bookstore when I met Erin Prewitt for the first time. What began as a brief encounter lasted two hours and left me divinely changed.

I also was left feeling like I had in a manner spoken with the likes of Abraham Lincoln, Gandhi, Nelson Mandela and other sages of compassion.1-forgive

Understand, this was less than 24 hours before sentencing would be handed down in a Ventura County courtroom for 24-year-old Shante Chappell who, while driving under the influence of marijuana and Xanax, struck and killed Erin’s 38-year-old husband Chris during a marathon training run on Victoria Avenue.

On an evening that might well have been filled with thoughts of vengeance, Erin was a portrait from Alexander Pope’s “An Essay on Criticism,” specifically the famous line: “To err is human, to forgive, divine.”

The essay’s title is itself apropos because Erin told me she was certain she would receive criticism for her compassion towards the monumental error of gross vehicular manslaughter. No matter, her mindset was Lincolnesque: “I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice.”

Despite a senseless act that made her a widow and left their 7-year-old daughter Isabella fatherless, Erin shared with me what she would tell the judge the next day – Chris, a beloved educator, would forgive Chappell and therefore she has.

While prosecutors sought a sentence of six years in state prison, Erin wished for shorter justice. Superior Court Judge Ryan Wright must have been moved by her entreaty for he handed down a low-term of four years.

From nearly the moment she received the tragic news of her husband’s death, Erin felt a need to grant forgiveness for many reasons.

Firstly, for her own healing, recognizing the wisdom of Nelson Mandela: “As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.”
Also, by example, she wished to plant the rich fruit of strength in Isabella. Thus into action Erin has put Gandhi’s words: “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.”

Importantly, too, Erin felt a responsibility to set the tone for the rest of her family and friends as well as the community at large.

“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it,” Mark Twain wrote. Erin Prewitt is a human violet, crushed by a heel of tragedy, yet already blooming again.

At times Erin spoke spiritually, so it was fitting we were in Mrs. Fig’s Bookworm in Camarillo because storeowner Connie Halpern says “Fig” stands for Faith In God. Faith, family and friends have been paramount through Erin’s mourning.

As I said earlier, meeting Erin affected me greatly. Eleven years ago my life was also impacted by a driver under the influence. While I blessedly survived the high-speed collision, I suffered permanent injury.

Too, my bitterness at the drunk driver had been permanent. Erin changed that. If she can forgive Chappell, how can I not do so a far lesser tragedy?

Erin’s gift to me is a gift to all. From her standard, how can we not forgive an estranged family member or alienated friend or even ourselves for a shortcoming?

If Erin could hug Chappell in courtroom and, as reported in The Star, tell her, “We forgive you, but it’s time for you to forgive yourself,” then surely the rest of us are capable of showing more compassion.

Lincoln one more time. During the Civil War he frequently received appeals for presidential pardons for soldiers who had been court-martialed and sentenced to die. These petitions were always accompanied by letters of support from influential people.

On one occasion, Lincoln received a single-page appeal from a soldier without any supporting documents. “What? Has this man no friends?” asked the president.

“No, sir,” said the adjutant. “Not one.”

“Then I will be his friend,” said Lincoln as he signed the pardon for the soldier.

Erin Prewitt seems a similarly divine friend.

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Woody 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: Summer Beach Bucket List

by Woody

A Beach Bucket List For Summer

In recognition of today being the summer solstice, here is my plastic beach bucket list for the next three months. I encourage you to come up with your own list – and, importantly, then check off as many items as possible this summer.

Help a kid with a beach bucket build a sandcastle.1-sandcasle

Extend my streak since age 2 of watching fireworks every year on the Fourth of July.

Watch a sunrise somewhere new.

Watch a sunset, with the Channel Islands as a backdrop, on an evening when the clouds on the horizon glow so vibrant a field of wild flowers would seem gray by comparison.

Visit my ancestors’ roots in County Cork, Ireland, for the first time.

Fly a kite for about the 100th time.

Tour the Guinness Brewery in Dublin, Ireland, and – as when visiting The Original Ghirardelli Ice Cream & Chocolate Shop in San Francisco – do some sampling.

Take a tour (with a companion designated driver) of a local winery and do some sampling.

Visit The Original Ghirardelli Ice Cream & Chocolate Shop in San Francisco and spoil my dinner.

Do a cannonball off a diving board. Bonus: get a family member wet.

Walk barefoot in cool grass, on warm sand, and on hot blacktop to feel like a kid again.

See a local play.

Enjoy an ice cream cone outside on a day so hot the treat melts and drips faster than I can eat it. And it has to be ice cream, not frozen yogurt. And make it Rocky Road. And add a vanilla scoop for my dog, Murray.

Visit a metropolitan museum.

Go to a local art show.

Spend part of an afternoon watching surfers, kite surfers and, if I’m really lucky, dolphins surfing.

Daydream looking at clouds and stargaze on a clear night.

Listen to live music at a local intimate setting.

Go to a concert at a big venue.

Listen to Vin Scully give a concert.

Enjoy a glass of lemonade from a kid’s stand – and leave a crazy tip.

Go on a hike where I’ve never been before.

Walk hand-in-hand with my much-better-half on the beach where we met.

Ride a paddleboat at the Ventura Harbor and the Ferris wheel at the Ventura County Fair with my adult daughter who will always be my little girl.

Take advantage of my son being in Washington, D.C. for the summer and visit the National Mall for the first time.

Take a selfie with my son and Abe at the Lincoln Memorial.1-fireworks.png PM

Go up in the Washington Monument.

Wear out a pair of new running shoes.

Go for a run in the rain – hopefully Ireland or D.C. will make this possible since Ventura likely won’t.

Go to an author’s book talk.

Read 10 books.

Marvel at the artistic tall stacks of balanced rocks at Ventura’s Surfers Point and try my hand at maybe going four high.

Participate in a beach clean-up day.

Hammer some nails for Habitat For Humanity.

Search for the best taco in Ventura County.

Search for the best micro-brew in Ventura County.

Have dinner “out” from five different local food trucks.

Have the owner of a food truck or restaurant name a sandwich “The Woodrow.”

Write a poem – and memorize one.

Join in on a kids’ water-balloon fight.

Roast marshmallows and make some s’mores.

Catch-and-release a trout, a firefly and a butterfly.

Play a spirited board game until the wee hours.

Go unplugged for one entire weekend.

Go unshaven for a full week.

Do not go unplugged the final week of summer in order to watch the debut airing on PBS of Ken Burn’s newest documentary – “The Roosevelts: An Intimate History” – which I saw the gifted filmmaker talk about in person at a sneak preview a few months ago. It looks fantastic.

Try to heed Eleanor Roosevelt’s advice, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Or at least once every week this summer.

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Woody 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: A Story For Father’s Day

by Woody

A Father, A Son And A Promise Kept

The boy, seven years old, was in the family barn doing chores. This was a full eight decades ago, yet the boy – my dad – remembers it like last week.

“I was cornered by rats,” Pop shares. “Big ones. Lots of ’em. To this day, I have a real phobia.”

The frightening memory of a Midwestern rat pack surging out of the hay is, surprisingly, also a cherished one because Pop’s boyhood dog, a terrier mix named Queenie, came running.

Pop, right, with grandson Greg and me.

Pop, right, with grandson Greg and me.

She did what terriers instinctively do: caught each rat in her teeth and gave it a side-to-side neck-breaking shake, tossed it aside like a rag doll, and then went after the next one and the next and the next. Lassie rescuing Timmy.

“She may not have saved my life,” Pop continues, “but at the time it sure felt like it.”

If Queenie did not literally save Pop’s life that day, it is still fair to say she was roundabout responsible for saving many other lives – hundreds, if not thousands – in the future. I will explain.

Queenie’s defining moment actually did not happen in the barn that afternoon; it occurred on a Sunday evening the following summer. The boy, now almost nine, noticed his dog was sick. Soon she went into seizure.

Unbeknownst at the moment, a deranged man had laced raw meat with strychnine – rat poison – and fed it to more than two-dozen dogs throughout the small rural Ohio neighborhood.

What the boy did know was he needed his father’s help, and urgently. Unfortunately, this was eons before cell phones so he could not reach his dad, a country doctor who was out making weekend house calls.

It would have been no problem had the boy known what patient his dad was visiting. Back then the boy did not even need to dial local phone numbers – he would just pick up the telephone and tell the woman operator (it was always a pleasant woman) the name of any person in town and she would connect them simple as that, the operator all the while chatting with the boy until the other person answered.

Tearfully, helplessly, anxiously the boy watched out the front window at 210 Henry Street for his dad to get home.

“I was so scared for Queenie,” that boy, now 87, recalls.

At long last the boy’s dad – my Grandpa Ansel – came home. It proved to be a life-changing “house call.” Ansel put down his well-worn black leather doctor’s bag and checked out his critical “patient.”

Immediately he suspected poisoning and took out a bottle of ether he kept in his medical bag for emergencies such as putting a patient to sleep before setting a broken bone.

Humming softly, Ansel gently held an ether-soaked cloth over Queenie’s snout in the same gentle, caring fashion he used to calm a frightened child crying in pain until the anesthesia took its hold.

The ether-induced unconsciousness temporarily stopped Queenie’s potentially deadly seizures, but when the potion wore off the fierce convulsions would return. It was imperative to keep the dog asleep until the poison could hopefully run its course; however, a continuous does of ether would itself prove fatal.

Hence, Ansel had to constantly monitor the dog’s breathing and administer a brief whiff of ether when necessary. By doing so he was able to keep Queenie precariously balanced on a high wire between slumber and seizures.

Throughout the long night, Ansel kept vigil by the ill dog’s side while the boy kept vigil by his country-doctor-turned-veterinarian father’s side. Soon, Ansel had two sleeping heads on his lap, albeit only one required ether’s aid.

“The next day Queenie was better,” Pop shares, his voice filled with marvel and gratitude all these years later. “She was the only one of all the poisoned dogs to live. The only one. All because of my dad.”

And here is the most important thing. Pop adds: “That dog, that night, changed my life. Right then I promised myself I was going to become a doctor, just like my dad.”

Happy Father’s Day to that boy who kept his promise.

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Woody 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: Maya Angelou remembered

by Woody

Hers was ‘The Voice of God’

 

“What’s your favorite book you have ever read?” is nearly impossible to answer. One’s honest response may change if asked again even an hour later.

 

1-maya

May Angelou: “Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.”

And yet if you alter the question ever so slightly – “What is your favorite book you have ever listened to?” – I can answer with certainty and sincerity and consistency: “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings” on audio book narrated by its author, Maya Angelou.

 

On the written page, this memoir is a modern classic. Read aloud by Angelou, it is poetry.

 

Decades ago, James Facenda gained fame as the bass narrator of NFL Films and earned the nickname “The Voice of God.” With apologies to the late, great Facenda, Maya Angelou made you believe god is a She.

 

The great writer and poet, who passed away on May 28 at age 86, could have read a phonebook aloud and made it enthralling. Or the nutritional facts on a cereal box. Yes, hers was “The Voice of God.”

 

Too, Angelou seemed to have Her wisdom and grace.

 

I saw Angelou speak in person only once, at the Pasadena Civic Auditorium. It was about a decade ago, but I vividly remember her sitting regally in an overstuffed chair on stage and magically making it seem like she was having a one-on-one visit with each of the 3,000-plus in attendance.

 

In essence, she was our elegant host for the evening and yet one of the stories she shared that has stayed with me was about the importance of being a gracious guest.

 

I forget precisely what impoverished village she was visiting in a distant land, but her hosts served a fancy porridge for dinner. Upon taking her first spoonful, Angelou realized the “raisins” were alive.

 

The second impulse in such a situation – the first being to gag – is to spit out the wriggling intruders. Angelou did a third thing, an amazing and rare thing: she swallowed that unappetizing mouthful and then the next until it was all gone.

 

You see, Angelou realized she had been given an honorary meal that her host considered a delicacy. To decline, even politely, would be an insult. And so Maya Angelou behaved as if she were dining on her favorite five-star cuisine.

 

I have thought of this life lesson from Angelou over the years when hearing people complain to a hostess that they can’t eat this or that or the other. I mean, if Angelou could affably eat some squirming “raisins” perhaps those of us who are particular about what we do – and don’t – eat could (unless we have a true medical restriction) politely tolerate a smidgen of dairy, gluten, sugar or whatever.

 

And yet, the opposite also holds true: I believe Angelou would have gracefully wanted to provide a gluten-free, lactose-free or a vegetarian dish to her guests. To be sure, one gets the feeling Angelou lived the words she preached, such as:

 

“Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.”

 

“If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude.”

 

“When you leave home, you take home with you.”

 

“As long as you’re breathing, it’s never too late to do some good.”

 

 “You can only become truly accomplished at something you love. Don’t make money your goal. Instead pursue the things you love doing.”

 

“A friend may be waiting behind a stranger’s face.”

 

“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.”

 

“When you learn, teach; when you get, give.”

 

And: “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

 

Somewhere, in some distant land, there are people who feel like Maya Angelou loved the authentic local meal they served her. Actually, all around the globe are people who remember feeling her rare grace.

 

Indeed, the quote from Maya Angelou that seems most fitting in the wake of her passing are the words she said upon Nelson Mandela’s death: “Our planet has lost a friend.”

 

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Woody 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: Isla Vista, Anytown USA

by Woody

Idyllic Isla Vista could be Anytown USA

 

Had someone asked me a week ago which university I thought would be least likely to suffer a mass shooting, I believe I would have answered, “UC Santa Barbara.”

 

I mean, how could such terror happen at my alma mater? How could laid-back Isla Vista, where I lived for two idyllic years, be the latest grieving site?

 

Which is exactly the point, I think. The next such rampage – and sadly there will be a next one and a next – can happen Anywhere USA.

The Faces We Should Remember: Top row from left to right: Weihan Wang, George Chen, Cheng Yuan Hong. Bottom row from left to right: Christopher Michaels-Martinez, Katie Cooper, Veronika Weiss.

The Faces To Remember:
Top row from left to right: Weihan Wang, George Chen, Cheng Yuan Hong. Bottom row from left to right: Christopher Michaels-Martinez, Katie Cooper, Veronika Weiss.

 

Virginia Tech students and alumni didn’t think it could happen there. Columbine High. Sandy Hook Elementary. Themovie theater in Colorado. The supermarket parking lot in Tucson. Fill-in-the-blank where mass shootings have happened in America. Throw a dart at a map where the next one might.

 

Three decades removed from my days at UCSB, but with sons and daughters of friends attending there now, the shooting (and three fatal stabbings) has resonated with me more deeply than others. Such is the power of familiarity, I suppose. Places in Isla Vista where I laughed with friends and courted my wife now come in to my focus as among the 10 crime scenes.

 

I cannot imagine the lasting heartache and mental scars for those who were there that tragic night.

 

Nor can I imagine the courage shown by one male UCSB student I saw interviewed on TV the day after. I want to call him a boy, but in truth he is a young man who had just witnessed war at the front line.

 

He saw three young women get shot, raced to their fallen bodies, and instantly knew two were dead. He turned his attention to the third woman, bleeding as she phoned her mom to say “I love you” in fear they might be her last words, and stayed by her side until paramedics arrived. She survived.

 

The young hero’s calm but graphic retelling turned the unfathomable horror into knowable faces – those of the two young women lost, the one who survived, and his own face filled with grief.

 

Faces. Veronika Weiss, a 19-year-old from Westlake High School in Thousand Oaks, was one of the two women murdered. Hers was a face of girl-next-door prettiness; a face of straight-A’s and athletic accomplishment; a face of kindness according to all who knew her.

 

            Faces. Christopher Martinez, the gray-bearded father of 19-year-old victim Christopher, who at the war scene afterward delivered a Gettysburg Address for its brevity and impassioned emotion:

 

“I talked to him about 45 minutes before he died. Our family has a message for every parent out there: You don’t think it’ll happen to your child until it does. Chris was a really great kid. Ask anyone who knew him. His death has left our family lost and broken.

 

“Why did Chris die? Chris died because of craven, irresponsible politicians and the NRA. They talk about gun rights. What about Chris’ right to live? When will this insanity stop?

 

“When will enough people say, ‘Stop this madness!’ We do not have to live like this. Too many people have died. We should say to ourselves, ‘not one more!’ ”

 

Faces. An overlooked tragedy is that “the madman” – as one witness called the shooter – has become The Face of this rampage. I will not mention his name for it is best forgotten. It is the victims who should be remembered – Weiss, Martinez, Katie Cooper, George Chen, James Cheng, David Wang.

 

It angers me that the videos “the madman” posted online before his killing spree are played over and over and over on TV. This is exactly what he wanted, to become famous – or infamous. Hence in death he achieves his life’s twisted goal.

 

            There is great debate on the influence of violence and misogyny in video games, advertising and movies, and rightly so. But what about the influence on mentally ill minds that watch a lunatic’s evil rants elevate him to worldwide TV celebrity, so to speak?

 

            It is impossibly lofty, but I wish henceforth the media would give only 1 percent of its focus on the perpetrators and 99 percent to the faces worth remembering.

 

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Woody 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: Grads and Artisans

by Woody

New Grads Can Learn From Artisans

 

Graduation season is upon us and, since once again I was not asked to deliver a commencement address in person, I am offering one here in print.

 

Among those who will fling their mortarboards skyward in celebration this year is my youngest nephew from Camarillo High School. And so I will address my remarks to him personally with hope others may find wisdom and inspiration as well.1-quoteKnow

 

Congratulations, Rhett. Before continuing on your educational expedition and life journey, I want to tell you about the banana knife your cousin brought home from Sri Lanka last year as a gift for me.

 

            The curved eight-inch blade is not burnished smooth except for its sharp edge, yet it is still beautiful for its utility – it can cut a banana bunch from a tree, chop down bamboo stalks, slice open a letter with equal ease. In today’s world, having a wide range of skills will serve you well.

 

            Conversely, its lacquered native hardwood handle is art to behold – and hold. Adding to the sublimity is that your cousin watched the master blacksmith fashion this handiwork in an hour’s time.

 

He also saw craftswomen weave strands of colorfully dyed palm leaves into wondrous purses of varying patterns. Meanwhile, from earthen clay other artists created pots and bowls that are equally useful and attractive.

 

            These Sri Lankan artisans, it seems to me, serve as an instructive metaphor. Each day we all receive 24 hours like a new chunk of raw clay or a pile of palm fronds or a piece of metal. Our challenge and duty is to use our vision, talents and perseverance to create something meaningful.

 

           

Greg Woodburn gave new socks and running shoes as gifts to Sikoro villagers, including the Elder Chief here.

Greg Woodburn gave new socks and running shoes as gifts to Sikoro villagers, including the Elder Chief here.

Too, Rhett, I wish to share a story from a trip your cousin took a few years earlier to the tiny village of Sikoro in Mali, Africa. Because his luggage was lost, and because he had neglected to pack anything in his carry-on bag for just such a mishap, he spent two weeks with only the clothes on his back.

 

Yet instead of calamitous, the lost luggage actually proved to be serendipitous because he got a life lesson in experiencing how his impoverished hosts make do with very few possessions.

 

The people of Sikoro live in mud-brick huts, sleep on woven mats atop hard dirt floors and pump water from wells. They lack enough fruits and vegetables. Most do not have shoes.

 

Despite what to us seems a hardscrabble existence, they are extremely happy. They smile constantly, laugh easily, dance freely. Worries about car payments and job promotions do not weigh on their minds. They may not have much materially by our standards, but by theirs they have enough.

 

Rhett, you would do well to pack some of these values of the Sikoro villagers in your luggage, so to speak, as you travel life’s roads.

 

Speaking of packing, Rhett, I wish to close with a scene from the book “Repacking Our Bags” by Richard Leider. He was on a backpacking trek in Africa and the group’s Maasai guide, Koyie, traveled with only a spear and a stick for cattle-tending. Leider, on the other hand, was outfitted with a backpack stuffed with “necessities.”

 

After they made camp the first evening, Leider laid out all his fancy gear. He writes: “I unsnap snaps, unzip zippers, and un-Velcro Velcro. From pockets, pouches, and compartments, I produce all sorts of strange and wonderful items. Eating utensils, cutting devices, digging tools. Direction finders, star gazers, map readers. Things to write with, on, and for. Various garments in various sizes for various functions. Medical supplies, remedies, and cures. Little bottles inside little bottles inside little bottles. Waterproof bags for everything. Amazing stuff!

 

“I look over at Koyie to gauge his reaction,” Leider continues. “He seems amused but he is silent. Finally, after several minutes of just gazing at everything, Koyie turns to me and asks very simply, but with great intensity: ‘Does all this make you happy?’ ”

 

Pursue happiness, Rhett, but pursue it wisely. As Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard has sagely said: “The more you know, the less you need.”

 

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Woody 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: Philanthropist On The Run

by Woody

Young Philanthropist on the Run

 

As a small boy, Benjamin DeWitt remembers waiting in food lines.

 

“I came from a very poor family,” Ben, now 28, recalls. “My parents worked very, very hard, but we still didn’t have much.”

 

When you are a child without, there are two ways to go when you grow up: follow the same hardscrabble pathway or pursue a yellow brick road.

Ben DeWitt, a true role model

Ben DeWitt, a true role model

 

Ben opted for a third road less traveled by. An avenue of philanthropy.

 

“I want to give other kids an opportunity for a better life than I had,” Ben avows. It is not lip service. He doesn’t just walk the talk, he runs it.

 

A standout distance runner at Buena High School (Class of 2004), Ventura College (2005-06) and Western State Colorado University (Class of 2008), Ben started his own business – Fast Green Running – four years ago to stage local races, including the“Mountains 2 Beach Marathon” from Ojai to Ventura.

 

The officially sanctioned course is remarkable for its scenic beauty and more remarkable for its gradual 700-foot decent to a sea-level finish near the Ventura Pier that has earned it the No. 2 ranking for runners trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon. As a result, runners from 44 states and seven countries are entered in this year’s fourth annual edition on May 25.

 

But the most remarkable thing about the “Mountains 2 Beach Marathon” (and accompanying 5K and half-marathon) is this: Ben donated $10,000 to local schools the first year; $15,000 the second year; and $38,000 last year, including $20,000 to Ventura Education Partnership.

 

“Ben is a source of pride for VUSD,” praises Trudy Arriaga, Superintendent for the Ventura Unified School District. “He is a product of VUSD and has the qualities that we dream to help produce as educators. Ben models service, generosity and wellness. Ben’s extraordinary example of giving back by paying it forward is an inspiration wrapped up in quite a gift!”

 

Ben’s gifts also benefit youth cross country and track programs throughout Ventura County as well as, fittingly, Ventura Food Share. His goal this year is to donate at least $45,000 total.

 

Understand, Ben is under no obligation to give from Fast Green Running’s bottom line. He could rightly pay himself a bigger salary instead of “paying it forward” from his own pocket.

 

“I’m more philanthropic with my life,” Ben explains. “I want to benefit the local community more than benefitting my personal piggybank.

 

“I live very modestly,” he expands, a ready smile flashing through his short-cropped ginger beard like sunshine through parting clouds. “I don’t need much to live. I’m not interested in vast amounts of wealth. I want to leave a legacy. On my deathbed, I want to look back on my life and feel that I did something worthwhile.”

 

Ben points out that some of his rewards cannot be monetized anyway, such as having runners tearfully thank him after realizing their dreams of clocking a Boston Marathon Qualifying time.

 

“I’d love for our community to come out on race day and be a part of the experience, kind of like they do in Boston,” encourages Ben, who was married on April 26 but has delayed his honeymoon until after the race. “Come cheer for the runners and perhaps you and your kids will be motivated to start running and getting more active too.”

 

Asked where his philanthropic calling originated, Ben shares a story when he was 16 and helping deliver toys and food in Santa Paula on Christmas Eve.

 

“We started at 4 a.m. and it was a cold, cold day,” he says. “I was in the bed of a truck and we’d stop at the houses and hand out boxes to parents. At one house on a dirt lot I remember thinking, ‘If I ever can someday, I want to help people.’ ”

 

He has made someday arrive early.

 

“The purpose of life is not to be happy,” Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote. “It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”

 

Sounds exactly like “Benefactor Ben.”

 

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Woody 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: Thanks for Moms

by Woody

Hallmark-Worthy Thoughts for Moms

 

“God could not be everywhere,” Rudyard Kipling observed, “and therefore He made mothers.” In a similar Hallmark card sentiment, Abraham Lincoln noted: “All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.”

 

1heartMomIn anticipation of Mother’s Day I asked some friends from everywhere to share the greatest gift from their own angels. Here are a few…

 

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“The best thing my mother ever gave me was a passion for fun,” says Patty Hengel. “Housework can wait, the world was meant to be seen and life lived, not spent in the house looking out.”

 

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“The best gift my mom ever gave me was the life-lesson to work hard for everything that you strive to do,” says Luis Monge.

 

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“My mom passed away at 46 from a rare type of cancer,” shares Mark Jasper. “But there was one time I remember about being honest that sticks out in my head. She went into a store to buy something and came out to the car and realized the cashier had given her too much money back so she went in and returned it. We didn’t have much money growing up so I knew my mom needed the money, but being honest was more important to her.”

 

Mark added this timely bookend: “A week ago I went to the store with my 12-year-old daughter. I gave her some money to run in and get me something and when she came out to the car I realized the cashier had given her back 10 dollars too much.

 

“So I took my daughter with me into the store to find the cashier that overpaid her and gave the money back. I hope she remembers this incident and can teach this to her kids someday as I remember my mom teaching me 25 years ago.”

 

*

 

“An opportunity to live,” says John Collet. “I was adopted. My mother offered a selfless eternal love.”

 

*

 

“My mom gave me the heart of a teacher,” says Marcella Williams. “She started her own college career when I was three. I was there for every graduation, the first from Moorpark College and the last from the University of San Diego when she earned her doctorate. I learned from her to dream big and try hard in front of everyone.”

 

*

 

“Mom taught me independence,” says Linda Fox. “It was a gift by example. She was a single mom and raised me by herself.”

 

*

 

“My mom and I share the same birthday and growing up we clashed all the time,” shares Elizabeth Marie. “It wasn’t until after I got married and had my own kids that I realized what a strong woman she was.”

 

*

 

“From watching my mom, and the physical pain she deals with every moment from a deteriorated spine, I think I’d have to say the best lesson and gift I’ve learned from her is to never stop, never give up,” says Lauren Estilow. “Life may not always be easy, but enjoy whatever you have and whomever you’re with!”

 

*

 

“The best gift Mom gave me was a strong work ethic regarding my education,” says Ethan Lubin. “College was a given and I am now an elementary school teacher.”

 

*

 

            “My sister,” answered Kathy McAlpine. “Pat is the most amazing woman I know. She is giving and selfless beyond belief!”

 

*

 

“Mom gave me many gifts, including a love of family, which supersedes all,” shares Scott Harris, whose mother passed away two weeks ago. “However, that is probably a common trait of all great mothers.

 

“So I’ll offer another gift – a love of reading. Even when we had no money, Mom would buy me books. That gift is still giving 50-plus years later and I’ve yet to read a book without thinking of my mom.”

 

*

 

            As for me, I echo all of the above but maybe I’ll go with this gift from my late great mom: Don’t save the good china only for special occasions – every day is special.

 

*

 

Woody 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: A Friend’s Advice

by Woody

Friendly Advice Yields Golden Memory

 

“When the student is ready,” a Buddhist proverb states, “the teacher will appear.”

            Or, as I happily experienced the other day, sometimes the wise friend appears.

            In this case, he showed up at happy hour. While the chips, salsa, guacamole and micro-brew were enjoyable, most appetizing of all – as usual with Scott – was the conversation. Scott belongs on a mountain peak, sitting cross-legged.

My wise friend and Renaissance man, Scott.

My wise friend and Renaissance man, Scott.

My friend is Renaissance man. He runs his own highly successful business yet favors flip-flops to wingtips. His interests include literature (he reads more than 100 books a year) and music (plays a killer harmonica) and travel (he is well on the way towards his goal of visiting every national park).

            But what I most admire about Scott is he is a role model of a family man. Happily married for three decades he has helped raise two amazing children. Importantly, Scott remains as close to his adult son and daughter now as when they were learning to ride two-wheelers.

            Our conversation turning to fatherhood, I asked Scott to share his magic formula. His parenting mission statement: “I made my kids my priority and always made time for them.”

            My remarkable friend then remarkably noted, matter-of-factly without a trace of conceit, that he only missed one of his daughter’s equestrian events when she was a national-class youth competitor and of more than 1,000 baseball games his son played in was absent from a mere two. That’s a hall-of-fame batting average.

            I felt a kinship for although my son did not run in 1,000 meets, from youth track and cross-country through four years of college competition I similarly missed only two races.

And my track record for my daughter’s sports and drama events was spotless – but only for another 24 hours, I confided to Scott.

I shared how my daughter played Dorothy in an elementary school play and despite attending the dress rehearsal I skipped covering two Lakers playoff games during the Magic Johnson Showtime Era to be at Opening and Closing Nights for “The Lizard of Ahhs.” In all, I saw all four performances and continued this streak through every production of two high school plays she wrote and a handful more in college and beyond.

Now my daughter was giving a reading of one of her published short stories at San Jose State’s Center for Steinbeck Studies and my proud run was about to end.

I had attended her first reading as a Steinbeck Fellow six months earlier but this time my wife would be on hand (and also visiting her mother for a milestone birthday) while I stayed home dog-sitting as our boxer does not fare well in the kennel.

I rationalized to Scott that I was just thankful to have not missed any big events when my daughter was young because it mattered more then.

“It matters even when they are grown,” Scott replied, wisely. After a brief pause he added in command: “You have to go.”

Robert Louis Stevenson was wrong when he wrote, “To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.” Arriving the next evening was a far better thing than hopefully anticipating my daughter’s surprised delight during my 330-mile drive.

As expected, she teared up at seeing me – and I did likewise during her reading of an emotional story. Indeed, the 11 hours of travel sandwiched around a much-too-brief three-hour visit was well worth it. As Mark Twain observed, “To get the full value of joy you must have somebody to share it with.”

I had to share it with her in person.

I encourage you to similarly heed Scott’s sagacity with your own children, be they young or old. But, as my friend believes, does it truly matter as much when they are grown?

Here’s my answer: “Daddy, I’ll remember this for the rest of my life,” my daughter whispered in my ear during our goodbye hug.

But even that sweetness wasn’t the evening’s pinnacle for me. Trumping that is when my daughter saw me walk into the room she says she wasn’t really surprised.

*

Woody 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: “Star Scholars” Shine

by Woody

Relax, Future Is In Great Hands

 

Earl Warren, Chief Justice of the United States from 1953 to 1969, famously ruled: “I always turn to the sports section first. The sports page records people’s accomplishments; the front page has nothing but man’s failures.”

 

            The sports world has since offered up a dissenting opinion. Today, Warren would spit out his morning coffee reading about performance-enhancing drug cheats, grade scandals and worse in the sports section.1scholars

 

Indeed, too often there are no pages to turn for people’s accomplishments.

 

Which is why I always look forward to late April when my favorite newspaper runs its annual “Star Scholar Awards” section, as it did once again earlier this week.

 

            The 31st edition honored 88 of Ventura County’s top seniors from the Class of 2014. To read their profiles is to feel a swell of pride and optimism for our collective future. Tomorrow is in good hands.

 

            The Star Scholars are the perfect tonic for widespread complaints like this: “I see no hope for the future of our people if they are dependent on frivolous youth of today, for certainly all youth are reckless beyond words. When I was young, we were taught to be discreet and respectful of elders, but the present youth are exceedingly (disrespectful) and impatient.”

 

            So grumbled Hesiod, a Greek poet in eighth century BC.

 

            Here’s a more recent criticism: “The world is passing through troublous times. The young people of today think of nothing but themselves. They talk as if they knew everything, and what passes for wisdom with us is foolishness with them. As for the girls, they are forward, immodest and unladylike in speech, behavior and dress.”

 

This denunciation was delivered in a sermon by Peter the Hermit, a priest and key figure during the First Crusade, in 1274.

 

            Things haven’t much changed in 2014. Today’s generation gets an earful about feeling entitled, playing video games, having inflated self-esteem, ad nauseam.

 

            To these naysayers I proudly point out The Star Scholars. Reading their 88 biographies almost makes you begin to think “ho-hum” about 4.3 and 4.5 and 4.8 grade point averages.

 

            Amazingly, the Star Scholars’ stratospheric GPAs are about the least amazing thing about them. Their consequence extends far beyond the classroom.

 

They don’t just play sports, they are team captains. They compete on basketball and tennis and volleyball courts – and in Mock Trial courts.

 

They are class presidents and philanthropists; violinists and black belts.

 

They act in plays; choreograph and perform dances; march in bands and play in orchestras.

 

They write for school newspapers and yearbooks; win ribbons at science fairs and medals in Academic Decathlon.

 

            They also collectively perform nearly as much volunteer work as the Red Cross and UNICEF combined. They lead blood drives and canned food drives – and drive the elderly to doctor appointments. They tutor youngsters and tidy up beaches. They assist at local hospitals and travel abroad on mercy missions.

 

For example, Aashal Patel – this year’s recipient of the special $5,000 Julius Gius Star Scholarship in recognition of The Star’s late esteemed editor – last summer made a three-week humanitarian trip to an orphanage in Africa. Mother Teresa would be pleased.

 

            You look at the resumes of these young role models and wonder when they find time to sleep. You figure they must have unraveled the space-time continuum and their days last 48 hours.

 

            Here is something else marvelous – each Star Scholar has numerous peers of great accomplishment at her/his school who are deserving of similar recognition. Indeed, I guarantee you The Star’s special 16-page section could have easily been 32 pages or even 64.

 

In the introduction to a collection of his “Editor’s Notebook” columns, Julius Gius wrote: “I have had a rich and rewarding life. Everything has come up roses for me. … I count my blessings every day and wish them for everyone.”

 

The future looks more rosy thanks to youth like these Star Scholars. It seems fitting there are 88 of them, one for each key on a piano, for they promise to create beautiful music in the decades to come.

 

*

Woody 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”