This, That and the Other

 My new memoir WOODEN & ME is available here at Amazon

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Clearing Out My Head and Inbox

 Nobody asked me, but I think it’s high time Californians changed the familiar proverb to: “The grass is less brown on the other side of the fence.”

Better yet: “The grass has been replaced with drought-tolerant plants and landscaping on the other side of the fence.”1grass

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Underrated: Donald Trump, in Donald Trump’s mind.

Overrated: Donald Trump, even by his harshest critics.

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While it is wonderful that Scott Holloway, a physics teacher at Westlake High School, has been honored with the Presidential Award for Excellence in Mathematics and Science Teaching – the highest honor the U.S. government bestows on K-12 math/science/computer science teachers – I think it is ridiculous he and 107 fellow all-star educators were each rewarded with $10,000.

Given the importance STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics) education will play in our world’s future, shouldn’t the prize have been $100,000 if not a cool $1 million?

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Underrated (and underpaid): Outstanding teachers in any subject.

Overrated (and overpaid beyond imagination): Pro athletes, as evidenced most recently by DeAndre Jordan re-signing with the L.A. Clippers for four years and $87 million – enough to award 8,700 teachers a $10,000 bonus!

Jordan, who shoots free throws like he’s playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, averaged 15 rebounds and 11.5 points per game last season, but Scott Holloway’s stat line was far more eye-opening with about 150 young minds enriched and inspired.

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My in-box was flooded following my column supporting same-sex marriage. Below is an anonymous sampling:

“The absurdity of the situation prior to the Supreme Court ruling can be summed up by the experience of our friends (names changed) Kim and Karen.

“Karen has been in the Navy Reserves for well over 20 years, so she started during the era of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’ Kim has been her partner for over 25 years. For much of their relationship, they had to be somewhat circumspect so that Karen did not hurt her chances for any promotions in the military.

“Karen came from a family of veterans, so she was very committed to the military. All during that time Kim was unable to partake of any benefits that would have accrued to her if they had been a ‘straight’ couple, such as use of the commissary or base hospital – benefits my wife automatically got on Day 1 of our marriage back in 1973.

“About 13 years ago, Kim and Karen decided to have a child. Karen used a surrogate, anonymous sperm donor, and Katrina (name also changed) was born. Kim immediately adopted Katrina, making Katrina the child of ‘two mommies’.

“Fast forward and per the Armed Forces regulations, at the age of 10 Katrina became eligible to get her own government ID. At that point, bada-boom, bada-bing, Kim could use the commissary and other facilities – not because she had been a partner in an over 20-year committed, loving relationship, but because she was accompanied by her 10-year-old adopted daughter. No logical sense whatever.”

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Calling my column “irritating” (which made it the most polite of the negative salvo) one diatribe included: “For me, same-sex marriage is just another step in the aggressive feelings about marriage. … It will be interesting to see what other relationships evolve from this ruling. It astounds me that the vote of one man has the ability to change the definition of a relationship that has been part of human life for centuries.”

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From the other side of the fence where this grass is rainbow colored were these two separate notes:

“Your beautiful words made this July 4th extra special for us in the Rainbow Family which joyously includes you and your wife and all of LOVE however defined between two people.”

“Your point is well taken about how my (same-sex) marriage would not affect anyone else. You’ll probably get some hate mail for your column. I know you can handle it.”

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The hate was made easier to handle thanks to notes like this from someone I admire greatly:

“Best column yet today. Thank you for standing publicly. Your voice matters to all members of our community. Reading your column made me proud to be an American today!”

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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”

Sky Doesn’t Fall: #LoveWins

 My new memoir WOODEN & ME is available here at Amazon

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Rainbows Fill The Sky After Ruling

A week ago Friday, I kissed my wife goodnight while trying to hide my worry. I didn’t sleep well. I tossed and turned. We’ve been happily married for 32 years, had a good run of it with two great kids, but now what?

1gaymarriageThe warning signs my marriage was doomed were everywhere. And yet despite the hysterical Henny Penny-like cries of “The sky is falling!” I woke up last Saturday morning to blue skies and sunshine. Birds sang outside my bedroom window.

I rolled over and my wife was still beside me after all.

“Good morning,” I whispered, tentatively. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling you should get up and let Murray outside before he pees on the carpet again,” my much-better-half replied.

“I meant how are you feeling about our ‘traditional’ marriage?” I replied.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t think it’s too healthy,” she answered, feeding my fears.

“You mean the anti-same-sex-marriage Chicken Little doomsayers are right?” I asked.

“No,” my wife said. “I mean that if our marriage is ‘traditional’ where the wife traditionally does 97 percent of the cooking, laundry, cleaning, shopping and errands while also working fulltime and the husband traditionally does 97 percent of the TV watching, then yes ‘traditional’ marriage is doomed.”

“I’ll go let Murray out,” I said, making my escape.

“Thanks, honey,” my wife said. “I love you.”

Remarkably, our marriage had survived what one Chicken Little presidential candidate called “some of the darkest 24 hours in our nation’s history” following the Supreme Court of the United States’ ruling that the Constitution provides same-sex couples the right to marry in all 50 states.

Others in the Chicken Little flock sounded a similar alarm: “Judicial usurpation! The Constitution has been run through a paper shredder! The sky has fallen and crushed traditional marriage!”

Here’s my question for the Chicken Littles: How does the SCOTUS ruling in any way whatsoever affect non-same-sex marriages? I’m sorry, but I don’t see how Jessica and Julia’s marriage, or my friends Bob and John’s marriage, diminishes Ted and Tina’s marriage.

I don’t see how a gay or lesbian couple being married – and being able to visit one another in the hospital and make legal medical decisions for one another; being able to share healthcare coverage and pension benefits; being afforded so many other rights denied unmarried couples – negatively affects husband-wife marriages.

I don’t see how a same-sex marriage that provides a sense of family permanence to children negatively affects male-female marriage.

I don’t see how granting same-sex marriage a long-denied dignity instead of treating these couples like second-class citizens suddenly diminishes the dignity of husband-wife couples.

This is not to say same-sex marriage may not affect marriages between a man and a woman – positively. To see how long and hard gays and lesbians have fought for the right to marry who they love surely may inspire some “traditional” couples to not take their own marriages for granted.

Indeed, to those who say same-sex marriage has caused the sky to fall on “traditional” marriage, I borrow the words of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Heykidsgetoffmylawn Scalia: That’s pure applesauce and jiggery-pokery!

Here is more applesauce: SCOTUS ruled 5-4 and not 9-0. That’s my opinion, dissent if you please, but you are on the wrong side of history and moral justice – just like those who opposed the national legalization of interracial marriage in 1967.

The reaction to same-sex marriage’s historic victory, Chicken Littles aside, was not a sky that is falling but rather one filled with rainbows. Parades and parties had rainbow flags and banners. The White House under floodlights became The Rainbow House for a night. Twitter, Instagram and Facebook postings exploded across the Internet with more color than a kindergarten class during painting time.

Today being the Fourth of July, the immortal words of the Declaration of Independence seem fitting: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Marriage is, above all, the pursuit of Happiness. #LoveWins.

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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”

 

Celebrating Legendary Laszlo

 My new memoir WOODEN & ME is available here at Amazon

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Celebrating a Race, and Life, Well Run

An old Irish proverb came to mind last Sunday afternoon in a ballroom at the Hyatt Westlake Plaza:

’Tis better to buy a small bouquet / And give to your friend this very day,

Than a bushel of roses white and red / To lay on his coffin after he’s dead.

My son, Greg, with his beloved USC distance track coach, Laszlo Tabori.

My son, Greg, with his beloved USC distance track coach, Laszlo Tabori, at the 60th anniversary party of his sub-4-minute mile.

Nearly 200 people traveled near and far, not with bushels of roses but rather to give small bouquets, in a manner, to their friend, Laszlo Tabori, who at age 83 is very much alive and well.

Specifically, they came to celebrate with him the 60th anniversary of the very day – May 28, 1955 – when the Hungarian-born Tabori became the world’s third person to run a sub-4-minute mile.

His official time was 3 minutes 59 seconds flat, four-tenths faster than Roger Bannister’s historic first the previous May. Tabori’s feat is proudly recorded on his personalized license plates: 359IN55.

In ’56, at the Summer Olympics in Melbourne, Tabori – then the world-record holder at 1,500 meters (3:40.8) – finished fourth in the 1,500 and sixth in the 5,000 despite losing training time because of the tumultuous Soviet invasion of Hungary.

Directly after the Closing Ceremonies, Tabori defected to America and settled in Southern California. He remained a star on the world running stage, yet could not compete in the 1960 Rome Olympics because he was a man without a country as his U.S. citizenship had not yet come through.

Tabori unlaced his racing spikes in 1962 and quickly became a world-renowned coach, employing his diabolical interval workouts to train a handful of Olympians, two Boston Marathon champions, and myriad collegians at L.A. Valley College and USC. Too, the longtime Oak Park resident created the San Fernando Valley Track Club where he still coaches men and women runners of non-elite abilities.

Now. Tabori is on his 84th trip around the sun, but it was those four orbits around a cinder track 60 Mays ago that put him in the history books and gave reason for this anniversary party.

And so one by one some of his protégés took the microphone and shared stories about how their lives were impacted by this demanding old-school coach with an accent thicker than his new autobiography, “Laszlo Tabori: The Legendary Story of the Great Hungarian Runner.”

They talked about his legendary toughness, but also his tenderness. Through laughter they teased him and through tears they called him their hero, cheerleader, mentor and friend.

Laszlo Tabori, No. 9, running his 3:59.0 mile in 1955.

Laszlo breaking the tape and the 4-minute mile barrier.

Midway through the celebration, the ballroom lights went down and a video went up on a big screen. Instantly it was 1955 again, May 28 again, and Laszlo Tabori was 23 again. He did not need a cane due to a hip replacement and his now-white hair was dark and thick and curly. His face was chiseled, his legs sinewy and powerful, and in the grainy black-and-white film footage he was flying around the chalk-lined oval inside London’s White City Stadium.

His stride was as graceful as poetry as he roared through the backstretch of the fourth-and-final lap in third place on the outside shoulders of Britons Chris Chataway and Brian Hewson.

Suddenly, Tabori did precisely what he would tell my son and all the other runners he has coached over the past half-century to do during workouts and races – “Put the guts to it!” – and the kid with No. 9 pinned to his racing singlet overtook Chataway, and then Hewson, too, and pulled away to win by five meters. 359IN55.

The ballroom erupted in cheers as if the feat just happened live.

“That race was a lifetime ago, but I still remember it like yesterday,” Tabori later told me in a private moment as I thanked him for the important role he has played in my son’s life. He added with a twinkle: “I’m happy I’m still around.”

After the video ended and the lights came back on and it was 2015 again, the former fastest man in the world slowly made his way to the front of the room and emotionally thanked everyone for showing up.

Truth is everyone was there to thank Laszlo Tabori for showing up in their lives.

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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: A Few Things I Know

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is available here at Amazon

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A Few Things I Now Know

After blowing out enough birthday candles to grill dinner over earlier this week, here are a few things I have come to know . . .

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1-MurFace

Like most dogs, Murray is nothing less than magnificent!

Despite all the great things said about them, dogs are still underrated.

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Chocolate is overrated. Just kidding.

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Don’t save the good china for special occasions only.

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People, not things, matter.

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Batteries in a smoke detector only get low enough to cause ear-piercing warning BEEPS! in the middle of the night, never during the day.

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The final 25 percent of power in a cell phone battery goes faster than the first 75 percent.

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Never pass up a chance to look at the ocean, a sunrise or sunset, stars on a clear night or a masterpiece painting such as Starry Night.

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Breaking bread together really does help break down barriers.

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You will pretty much never regret spending money to travel – even a “bad” trip will give you some good memories to last a lifetime.

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Robert Frost was right: take the road less traveled by.

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The hassles of air travel – security lines, flight delays, lack of leg room, etc. – are greatly overemphasized when you consider how miraculous it is that you can pretty much decide on a destination in the morning and be anywhere in America by this evening or in the world by tomorrow.

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Travel by Clipper ship, Conestoga wagon or even a Model T, now those had hassles.

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Who you travel with is far more important than where you travel.

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Spend as much time as you can with people who lift you up and as little as possible with those who pull you down.

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Double-knot your shoelaces.

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Procrastination isn’t one of the seven deadly sins so don’t beat yourself up over it – at least not until tomorrow.

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Maya Angelou was right: when you leave home, you take home with you. Also, try to be the rainbow in somebody’s cloud.

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Batman is the greatest superhero ever – well, behind moms.

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Call me old-fashioned, but I think guys shouldn’t wear hats indoors and should open doors for women.

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James M. Barrie, author of “Peter Pan”, was right: “Those who bring sunshine into the lives of others, cannot keep it from themselves.”

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Roller coasters and high diving boards are more thrilling when you are a kid – but just barely.

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A lot of movies are longer than they should be and most hugs are too short.

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The experts who say you can’t be your kid’s friend, even when they are young, are dead wrong. That’s my experience anyway.

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If you can choose one thing to be world class at, make it the fine art of friendship.

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The African proverb is right: “There are two lasting gifts you can give your child: one is roots, the other is wings.”

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Writing a thank-you note is always a few minutes well spent.

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Kindness is more powerful than penicillin.

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It’s not really a favor if you make the recipient feel like you are doing a favor.

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My friend Wayne Bryan is right: “If you don’t make an effort to help others less fortunate than you, then you’re just wasting your time on Earth.”

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A positive attitude will positively carry you a long way.

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It takes worn out running shoes to finish a marathon; worn out brushes before you can paint a masterpiece; and well-worn pots and pans to create a seasoned chef.

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“Like” is, um, like, an overworked word; “love” an underused one.

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Gratitude is an underworked emotion.

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John Wooden was right about most things, including: Things turn out best for those who make the best of the way things turn out; Study and work hard, but make time for play too; and, Make today your masterpiece.

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We should all make a wish and blow out a candle 365 times a year because every day is a once-in-a-lifetime experience to be celebrated.

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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: Stories of Love

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

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Season of Love Stories

“To every thing there is a season,” Ecclesiastes 3 tells us, “and a time to every purpose under the heavens.”

For my wife and me, the time of recent has been wedding season.

1-wedding.png AMNieces’ weddings. Children of our friends’ weddings. Weddings of co-workers young enough to be our children. Our children’s friends’ weddings. Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn don’t go to as many ceremonies in “Wedding Crashers” as we have the past year.

Our own wedding was 32 years ago and there was no video made of the ceremony and the reception was a blur and quite honestly I would like a do-over.

By this I do not mean a do-again by renewing our vows in front of new friends and family we have gained since our first “I do’s” – although this, too, would be wonderful.

Rather, I would like to relive our original wedding with the same bridal party and same groomsmen and the same entire guest list. “Groundhog Day” on September 4, 1982.

Given a magical do-over, I would make a better effort to stop and smell the bouquet, so to speak, and savor more specific moments and memorize more priceless interactions from the day.

Indeed, after watching my beautiful bride walk down the aisle to meet me at the pulpit, everything else – the verse readings, the minister’s words, our vows and our first kiss as husband and wife, the giddy walk-on-air back down the aisle together, the reception line, toasts given, our first dance, even how a groomsman wound up in a swimming pool in his tux – is pretty much all lost in the fog of time.

Better than renewing our vows, it seems to me, is now going to weddings. Sitting in a church pew or nestled around a gorgeous garden spot or overlooking the ocean or a scenic country club fairway, allows one to experience the circumstance and pomp and importance of the moment much more clearly than can the two people standing front and center – and nervous and excited and overwhelmed.

Being a wedding spectator offers the chance to vicariously be the groom or bride again with the advantage of not being bowled over by the occasion. It entices you to silently renew your own vows and commitment as you watch the real couple do so.

Indeed, if you are married, it is almost impossible not to be affected watching two others join the club. The next time you are at a wedding, when the bride is saying her vows slyly take a quick peak around and notice how many married couples in attendance reach down and squeeze each other’s hands; after the big kiss, see how many little kisses among married spectators follow.

Here is something else rejuvenating about attending someone else’s wedding. Even if I happen to already know the answer, I still like to ask the blissful couple about their “meet-cute.” It is always, and I do mean always, a story they light up in retelling.

Too, listening always, and I do mean always, lightens my heart and reminds me of my own magical first encounter that led to “for better and for worse, in sickness and in health.”

Like weddings, Valentine’s Day offers a similar opportunity to be inspired by young love. If you go for a walk along the beach today, or out to a restaurant tonight, you will have no trouble picking out the couples on dates and newlyweds.

Equally heartening are the couples that appear to be newly in love or newly married, but at the same time you can just tell they have been together for a long time.

If there were a polite way to do so, I would love to interrupt them briefly and ask how they met and also for their secret to making it last. I have a hunch some of these lovebirds might mention that going to a lot of weddings helps keep their own marriage happy and fresh.

In this season of my life, that’s one thing I would say.

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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: Sharing Annoyances

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

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Pendulum Mood Swings

If you were expecting 700 words of nice this morning, phone your grandma. I’m in an annoyed “Why didn’t the Seahawks give the football to Marshawn Lynch at the 1-yard line?!” kind of mood.

I loved the “Like A Girl” Super Bowl ad.

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1rungirlI get annoyed that in 2015 there even needs to be a campaign battling negative stereotypes of throwing, running, fill-in-the-blank “Like A Girl.”

I’d love to see a Super Bowl ad next year encouraging boys to “hit the books Like A Girl” – 32 percent of women now receive a bachelor’s degree by age 27 compared to 24 percent of men. Even attending college, Like A Girl wins 70 percent to 61 percent for Like A Boy.

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I get annoyed by leaf blowers that simply move the mess into the street or another yard.

I love seeing a pile of raked leaves – especially if kids are busy making a mess of it.

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I get so annoyed that I get a fever and flat red spots appear on my face, neck, trunk, arms, legs and feet, by parents who refuse to vaccinate their children from measles and other diseases. To bad there isn’t a vaccine for scientific ignorance, although I guess the people who need it most would refuse it.

I love that as a kid, thanks Jonas Salk, I didn’t have to avoid swimming pools in the summer because of a polio outbreak and never knew a person who needed leg braces, much less an iron lung. I also love it that thanks to vaccines neither of my two kids or any of their friends lost their hearing, or worse, because of the measles.

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I get annoyed by mammoth street sweepers that never seem to actually sweep up anything but instead merely spray water on the dirty street and mix it with spinning steel bristles to leave a film of mud behind.

I love the street sweepers’ cousin, the Zamboni.

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I get annoyed when my laptop has a five-second hiccup and displays a spinning rainbow pinwheel before finallllllllly completing its task.

I love how much faster my computer is, even when it hiccups, than my laptop of 10 years ago was during peak performance.

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I get annoyed when the TV news “teases” a story of vital importance – “You might be serving cyanide on your dinner plate tonight!” – but doesn’t share this life-saving information until after the weather report … and after dinner.

I love it that I can get the local weather forecast in a matter of seconds anytime on my smartphone.

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I get annoyed when the driver at the front of a line of cars isn’t paying attention when a left-turn green arrow comes on and then bolts through on the yellow while the rest of us don’t make it through the intersection.

I love it when I drive from point A to point B and get all green lights.

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I get annoyed when the battery in my GPS running watch loses its charge in the middle of a run and, heaven forbid, I have to determine my pace and distance the old-fashioned way by estimation.

I love to sometimes leave my GPS watch at home and not even think about my pace.

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I get annoyed at myself because I keep underestimating the slow-as-a-doctor’s-waiting-room traffic on the 101 Freeway in Camarillo and wind up being late.

I love being ten minutes early – which Coach John Wooden said was actually merely being on time.

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I get annoyed when a doctor’s office is running 30 minutes behind schedule.

I love it when a doctor’s receptionist performs a magic act and finds a way to squeeze me in the very day I call in with an illness or ailment.

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I love that the sequel novel to Harper Lee’s 1960 literary masterpiece “To Kill a Mockingbird,” titled “Go Set a Watchman” and featuring Scout now 20 years older, will be published this July.

I get annoyed by Lee – not by her reclusiveness all these years, but because she makes it readily apparent I can’t write “Like A Girl.”

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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

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

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: Three Deadly Syllables

Updated Henny Penny Warning

Instead of racing around warning everyone “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!” in a 2014 revision of the tale “Chicken Little,” Penny Henny would be shouting, “Ebola! Ebola!”

To be sure, E-bol-a is a frightening collection of three syllables. However, the sky-is-falling panic in the United States seems a little Chicken Little-ish.

1drinkIn reaction to four cases and one death in America (two of the infections originated here, one in Liberia, one in Guinea) we are moving heaven and earth – and moving healthcare workers/heroes with no symptoms into forced quarantine.

So can you imagine the hysteria if the Ebola outbreak in the U.S. numbered 1,553 reported cases and 926 deaths as in Guinea this year through October 23?

What if Ebola were as epidemic here as in Sierra Leone with 3,896 cases and 1,281 deaths or Liberia’s ground zero with 4,665 cases and 2,705 deaths?

Combined, these three West African hot zones total 4,912 deaths in 2014. That is no small and tragic number, but if Ebola claimed more than twice that many American lives we would unleash unlimited resources in an all-out sortie.

And yet year after year we allow an even deadlier three-syllable collection – drunk driv-ing – to wreck havoc by claiming more than 10,000 lives annually with far too little outcry and fight.

According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration’s latest figures, 10,322 people died in drunk-driving related traffic crashes in 2012 in the United States accounting for 31 percent of all traffic deaths.

Additionally, someone is injured in a drunk-driving crash every two minutes – in less time than it will take you to read this column.

Someone like Anthony Pedeferri, a California Highway Patrol officer from Camarillo who at age 36 was paralyzed from the chest down a few years ago when a drunk driver struck another car that in turn slammed into Pedeferri during a freeway traffic stop.

And every 51 minutes, or in about the time you spend reading today’s newspaper, a life is extinguished by a drunk driver.

A life like Eugene Kostiuchenko, a 41-year-old husband and father and Ventura County sheriff’s deputy from Camarillo who was struck and killed early Tuesday morning by a suspected drunken driver after Kostiuchenko had finished a traffic stop on Highway 101.

A life like Chris Prewitt, a 38-year-old husband and father and local standout educator who while on a training run for a marathon this past April was fatally hit by a DUI driver on Victoria Avenue.

A life like Nick Haverland, a 20-year-old Ventura College student who was killed while riding his bike on a city street when he was struck by a drunk driver with a reported blood alcohol level nearly five times the legal limit.

A life like Victoria Castro-Ramirez, local high school senior who was killed because her own mother got behind the wheel drunk. More tragically, her mother had two previous DUI arrests.

And on and on.

1nodrink.png AMMADDenly, according to Mothers Against Drunk Driving, repeat offenders – as appears to be the case in Kostiuchenko’s tragedy – are responsible for roughly one-third of drunk driving arrests, crashes, injuries and deaths.

If Ebola was on pace to claim 10,000 American lives in 2014, there is no end to the money and measures – from technologies to education to zero-tolerance sentencing – we would employ to eradicate it.

If drunk driving was Ebola, breath alcohol ignition locks for all drunk driving offenders would be mandatory. Heck, every car would have a breathalyzer ignition lock.

If drunk driving was Ebola, people would not be allowed to exit a bar or restaurant without passing a breathalyzer.

If drunk driving was Ebola, we would have a national Drunk Driving Czar.

Two minutes have passed and there is not another new case of Ebola in America, but statistically there is another Anthony Pedeferri.

In the next 51 minutes there will not be another Ebola death in America, but statistically Eugene Kostiuchenko, Chris Prewitt, Nick Haverland, Victoria Castro-Ramirez and a dreadful roll call of Americans will grow by one.

The sky may not be falling, but neither is drunk driving merely an acorn falling on a head.

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

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

Column: Annoyned and Happy

Mood Swings Like a Pendulum

If you were expecting 700 words of happy and nice this morning, phone your grandma. I’m in a “Look At That Idiot Wasting Precious Water During Our Drought By Watering His Sidewalk And Driveway” kind of mood.

I’m starting to love brown grass.

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I get annoyed when I see someone toss litter out a car window.

I love seeing Good Samaritans picking up litter that isn’t theirs.

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I get annoyed by the Ventura County Fair’s crushing crowds, late-night noise, parking hassles and impossible-to-win carnival games.

I love the Ventura County Fair’s happy crowds, late-night music, convenient shuttles and carnival games that I am going to win at this year!

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I get annoyed when I call a customer service line and have to wait so long my ear gets irritated by the phone receiver.

I love it when I get a customer service rep who is friendly and helpful and we even ask each other where we are located and how’s the weather.

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I get annoyed when Tiger Woods is in the newspaper headlines and TV promos when he is not even in the hunt.

I love it that golfers call infractions on themselves.

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I get annoyed by failed role models in the world of sports.

I love that Mike and Bob Bryan, the all-time winningest doubles team in history, continue to be even greater champions off the court. For example, by raising more than $100,000 at their recent V-Grid Tennis Fest to benefit local junior tennis programs and other deserving youth groups.

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I get annoyed when half the sesame seeds on my bagel fall off and make a mess.

I love it when a frozen yogurt has a mess of toppings.

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            I get annoyed because Clayton Kershaw’s pitching gems haven’t been televised here in the Southland due to network disputes.

I love that Vin Scully has decided to return to the Dodgers’ broadcast booth next year for his 66th season.

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I get annoyed when exiting the parking lot at a big-venue concert seems to take longer than the concert lasted.

I love the ease of attending the local “ROCK The Collection Summer Concert Series” on Saturdays at Riverpark.

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I get annoyed when a quick service restaurant meal for eating on the premises, not take-out, still comes wrapped in two pounds of aluminum foil, paper, cardboard AND a paper bag – a lot of waste for 30 seconds of use.

I love it when I remember to take reusable bags to the grocery.

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I get annoyed when I don’t take someone’s wise advice.

I love it when I do.

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I get annoyed when I try to buy tickets on-line for the Ventura Rubicon Theater because its website is so glacier slow it seems faster to drive to the box office and buy them in person.

I love seeing plays at the Rubicon Theater.

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I get annoyed when people don’t clean up their dog’s mess.

I would love an ordinance that requires the people who don’t clean up their dog’s mess to clean up the mess from the rest of our shoes.

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I get annoyed when my Facebook news feed posts “new” items that are a couple days old. More than once I have gone to a food truck or local live music performance because of a “new” post only to discover the truck or musician was actually on site yesterday.

I love local food trucks and local live music.

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I get annoyed after I let a salesclerk up-sell me.

I love it when a salesclerk steers me in the right direction.

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I get annoyed when I don’t have my reading glasses and my arms aren’t long enough to compensate.

I love it when a restaurant has I-Forgot-My-Readers-Friendly Print Size in its menu.

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I’m no longer annoyed by how quickly my car gets dirty because I feel like a good citizen by not washing it.

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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”