Famous Song Lyric Sings True

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is available at Amazon (click here) and orderable at all bookshops.

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In late spring 1967, so late it was almost summer, the Beatles released “When I’m Sixty-Four” written by Paul McCartney when he was only 16.

At the time, for I had turned seven less than a week before, the song was far beyond my youthful comprehension. In truth, even in high school and college, and a good while beyond, I had a hard time imagining being 64…

…yet seemingly in a wink and a blink, come Memorial Day next week, the lyrics “many years from now” will have arrived for me and McCartney’s words will sing true as I reach this musical milestone age.

While I’m not yet “losing my hair” (thank you, Grandpa Ansel, for your thick-thatched genes) I do have three grandchildren (not “Vera, Chuck and Dave” but Maya, Auden and Amara) to bounce on my knee.

For some reason, perhaps because it was one of my favorite things to do when “When I’m Sixty-Four” first hit the airwaves, I have been reminiscing about riding bikes. In the 1960s, we kids could—and did!—hop on our stingrays in the morning and explore like Lewis and Clark all day long so long as we were home by dinner call.

Oh, the places we’d go! The fun we had! The things we’d do! We’d ride to our friends’ homes, ride to the five-and-dime, ride to the playground and swimming pool and tennis courts. We’d build wooden ramps to soar off, and have contests pedaling as fast as humanly possible before jamming on the coaster brakes with all our weight and try to not wipeout as the back tire locked and fishtailed on the pavement and whoever left the longest black comet tail won, all without bike helmets.

Sometimes, oftentimes, we also left knee and palm flesh behind on the pavement resulting in impassioned pleas for our moms not to spray Bactine—OUCH!!!—on the road rash for that hurt worse than the crashes.

The fall I most vividly remember happened the very first time I rode a two-wheeler solo. I had just turned four and to put an end to my pleading and begging and whining my two older brothers took turns teaching me to ride by running alongside holding the seat of one of their outgrown bikes to maintain my balance.

No doubt, dear reader, you know what happened next for you surely had the same experience when you learned to ride: the magical moment came when one of my brothers let go of the seat while I was concentrating wholly and simultaneously on pedaling and steering and controlling the wobbling and remaining upright—and without knowing it I was suddenly a human space capsule that had shed its booster rocket and was now soaring without assistance.

Down the sidewalk I rolled and, unable to maneuver a U-turn, I continued to pedal all the way around the block and when I came full circle my brothers were both gone…

…for Mom had called us inside for dinner.

Unfortunately, they had neglected to give me instructions for how to use the coaster brakes to stop. Moreover, the hand-me-down bike was a bit too tall for me to touch my feet to the ground, so around the block I went a second time, and a third, and still no one was waiting to help me stop without falling.

Falling, of course, is how I eventually stopped. I came inside in tears and in need of Bactine—and in a state of glorious happiness.

When I’m Sixty-Four next week I shall celebrate with a bike ride.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.

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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.

Time Machine on Two Wheels

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

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Summer Time Machine on Two Wheels

Summertime is a time machine. Just as hearing an old song can transport one’s thoughts back to his or her youth, so can summertime sights (barbecues, bikinis, bursting fireworks) and smells (sunscreen, chlorine, freshly mowed grass) make the calendar pages leap backwards.

Although summer has no monopoly on it, I recently saw a time-machine sight that is far more common during summertime than the other three seasons combined: a kid learning to ride a bicycle.1bikeridekid

This milestone typically plays out on a neighborhood sidewalk, quiet cul de sac, or empty parking lot. A father, or mother, holds the bike seat from behind to provide balance – and, at first, a little propulsion – while quick-stepping alongside as the child pedals.

To describe what universally happens next, I will share a specific scene I recently watched unfold. A young girl, maybe 6 and wearing a pink bike helmet that bobbled because it was too big, was on a bike that somehow seemed too small.

The dad kept the bike upright by holding the seat with one hand while the mom watched and cheered and took video. With each attempt, the tiny bike seemed to wobble a little less; the little feet pedaled more surely; and the girl’s frown of fright turned into a growing smile of happiness and confidence.

Also with each attempt, the dad’s stride quickened slightly; his grip on the bike seat grew less vise-like; and his smile, too, widened.

There were falls, of course, but no scraped knees because the father was wiser than I had been when I was in his shoes. He was teaching his daughter on a soccer field. What a brilliant way to minimize the fear of falling than to have soft grass to tumble on.

Grass, however, is more difficult to pedal on than pavement. This hindrance was overcome by doing the rides on a very slightly downhill section – the equivalent of the Wright Brothers always heading into the wind for extra lift at Kitty Hawk.

On one of the young girl’s attempts, as magically as when Orville was airborne for the very first time, she was suddenly defying gravity on two-wheels. At first, of course, she did not know that her dad’s hand was no longer helping her stay upright. And so the dad and mom felt the magic of the moment first.

Indeed, only when the daughter noticed her dad was no longer beside her did she realize she was flying solo. Shortly thereafter, the downhill turned flat and she ran out of steam and toppled over. By then she had traveled maybe 120 feet, as Orville did on his maiden flight, but each ride thereafter went further and longer until perhaps reaching the 852 feet that Wilbur achieved on that 1903 historical day.

The time machine sight of this girl’s personal Kitty Hawk sent me back to my own 1965 historical day. My two older Woodburn Brothers combined forces to teach me. I’m not sure their motivation was kindness so much as that if I learned to ride I would then need Doug’s hand-me-down bike; Doug would inherit Jim’s; and Jim would get a new one.

They took turns running alongside holding the seat to help me balance until – like the little girl above, and like you, and like your own children – after a while everything clicked and I was soaring solo. It is remarkable how something impossible can become second nature in an instant.

My brothers cheered me on as I rode off down the street and proceeded around the block. When I came back around they were both gone – Mom had called us inside for dinner and they had not waited for me.

Unfortunately, they had neglected to teach me how to use the coaster brakes. So around the block I went a second time, and a third, and still no one came out to help me stop without falling.

Falling, of course, is how I finally stopped. I came inside with a red badge of courage on my knee from the sidewalk. Goodness, that was a masterpiece summer day.

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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: FB rides to boy’s rescue

 

Facebook rides to boy’s rescue

           This is a love story.

It stars a boy and his grandfather, a thief and a school principal, Facebook and a village of caring people.

           Tony, a fourth-grader at Mound Elementary in Ventura, had his bike stolen after leaving it at school overnight.

Happy Tony with his bike and Mound Principal Todd Tyner.

His misfortune mounted. Riding double on the crossbar of his grandfather’s bike for the two-mile trip home from school shortly thereafter, Tony’s foot caught in the spokes and he flew head over handlebars.

           Todd Tyner, Mound’s principal, had not known about the bike theft or the dangerous double-rides to and from school. When Tony showed up on crutches the next day, Tyner asked and learned and cared.

“I knew we needed to get Tony a replacement bike as soon as he was well enough to ride again,” Tyner recalls thinking.

At 11:18 a.m. that very day, Tyner posted on his Facebook page a brief summary of Tony’s predicament. Shining the Bat-Signal above Gotham City’s night skyline could not have elicited a speedier response of help.

Indeed, a mere two minutes later at 11:20 a.m. – sent from a mobile phone because the Good Samaritan did not want to delay until getting home – came this on-line reply: “I have a bike he can have. He can choose from 4 cuz my kids never ride them.”

Another offer came at 11:36 a.m. – “he can have my beach cruiser. it needs fresh tires but that should be easy to take care of.”

And another and another . . .

12:15 p.m. – “I got $10. If we all chip in we can buy a nice new one.”

12:21 p.m. – “I have a specialized BMX I could part with! Needs a new pedal.”

12:24 p.m. – “I have 2 new bikes in my garage. Need air in tires.”

2:24 p.m. – “We have a brand new boys bike that he can have.”

3:15 p.m. – “I want to help. Can I drop some money off at school?”

And on and on, more than 30 offers for bikes, helmets, locks and cash in a few hours. The problem of no bike turned into one of too many bikes. A nice problem to have. Tyner actually had to turn off the Bat-Signal.

Sitting in his office recalling the “It’s A Wonderful Life”-like event, Tyner is asked if he was surprised by the kind outpouring?

“No, not really,” he answers. “The Internet is a wonderful way to reach out to the community. I knew if I let people know about the need, someone would have an extra bike. This is a very caring community. I see it a lot.”

This time it was a bike, but other days Tyner has seen backpacks and school supplies donated to kids who are without.

And this past December some Mound teachers collected two large bags of clothes and shoes for a couple students in need. They asked Tyner to surreptitiously drop them off at the boys’ home before Christmas, which he did.

“We see them wearing the clothes,” Tyner shares. “That is a rewarding feeling.”

So, too, was the feeling of summoning Tony into the Principal’s Office after the boy was finally off crutches three weeks later.

“I said, ‘I know you need a bike,’ ” Tyner retells. “I told him about Facebook and that more than 40 people had offered to help him out. Tony thought it was pretty exciting that there were people out there who cared enough to give him a bike.”

Along with a new safety helmet and lock (care of Rob and Karri Button), Tony was given his choice of the two bikes that were ultimately donated – the other is being kept for a similar exigency down the road. He selected a shiny red BMX, good as new after Tyner cleaned it a little and pumped up the tires.

“Tony had a big smile when he rode home that day,” Tyner says, beaming at the recent memory he will surely carry into his old age – as will Tony.

As I said at the start, this is a love story. The name of the bike benefactor is Danielle Love. How perfect is that?

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star. You can contact Woody at WoodyWriter@gmail.com or www.WoodyWoodburn.com