Tag Archives: John Wooden

Bacon and Eggs and a Side of Serendipity

by Woody

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

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Breakfast out already had been perfectly wonderful, delicious food enhanced by savory conversation with a dear friend, and then Serendipity pulled up a chair and the morning wonderfully became even more perfect.

St. Nick, as I nicknamed my pal because his heart is as big and giving as Santa Claus’s, was telling me about a “god wink” he recently experienced, that being what he calls serendipity, when the check arrived. Quick as a human wink, he snatched it and refused to split it, so in altruist defeat I slipped away to the washroom.

Upon returning to the table I was greeted by matching Cheshire grins from St. Nick and our waitress, Autumn, suggesting my fly was down. Fortunately, it was up.

What else was up that had them so delighted? Autumn’s well-used black folder for holding customer orders had caught St. Nick’s attention. Specifically, he eyed a strip of masking tape on the front cover. Torn off raggedly at both ends, the tape was not there to repair a crack. Rather, it bore a name, hand-printed legibly but hurriedly, in black marker. Not Autumn’s name, nor that of a co-worker she might have borrowed it from, but the name “John Wooden.”

St. Nick naturally asked about it; Autumn answered she writes Wooden’s name on her folder before each shift to remind her of his life lessons, no matter that she was born long after he retired from coaching basketball in 1975; and St. Nick then told her, in my continued absence, that I had been blessed to know Coach for more than two decades and even wrote a memoir about my friendship with him.

Autumn and me and Coach Wooden’s Wisdom

This name tag god wink was followed by another and a third, like blinking dry eyes in need of Visine. Firstly, I had considered asking St. Nick to brave the freeway traffic and meet me all the way in Tarzana at Vip’s Café because that was Coach Wooden’s regular breakfast spot. With luck we might even get Table 2, a booth actually, that was always reserved for Wooden and is now memorialized with a plaque.

Vip’s would have been especially meaningful on this occasion on account of the birthday gift I had on hand for St. Nick: a small card featuring Coach Wooden’s “Two Sets of Threes” – Never lie. Never cheat. Never steal. Don’t whine. Don’t complain. Don’t make excuses. – displayed inside a thick acrylic block.

The small keepsake elicited unexpectedly big emotions from St. Nick, who shared with me now that when his grown daughter was young she put the “Two Sets of Threes” on the refrigerator where it remained for a very long time. To this day, daughter and father still recite all six.

With Coach Wooden’s spirit having joined us at our table across from Serendipity, and imagining what he would do in this god-winking situation, I asked St. Nick if he would mind if we gave the “Two Sets of Three” to Autumn now and I would give him a replacement later.

St. Nick not only generously concurred, he did so with great Enthusiasm which fittingly is a cornerstone trait on Coach Wooden’s famous “Pyramid of Success.” The impromptu re-gift certainly proved a success. Oh, I wish you could have seen Autumn’s face light up as bright as the springtime sun on this cloudless UCLA Bruin Blue-skied day!

Outside the café afterwards, St. Nick recalled one of his favorite Wooden-isms: “You can’t live a perfect day without doing something nice for someone else who can never repay you.”

It was indeed a perfect start to a masterpiece day.

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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.

Students Create Own 7-Point Creeds

by Woody

“I finally read ‘Wooden & Me’!” Matt Demaria, an eighth-grade teacher at Mesa Union School in Somis, emailed me recently regarding my memoir about my life-changing friendship with Coach John Wooden. “I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

Naturally, I thoroughly enjoyed Matt’s compliment, yet what I liked even more was the rest of his letter with photos included.

For starters, around the classroom Matt has posted quotes to inspire his students and center stage, side by side above the white board, are gems from two of the most important mentors in my life: Wooden and Wayne Bryan, father of Mesa Union’s two most famous alumni, Mike and Bob, the greatest doubles team in tennis history.

Wayne, on chocolate-colored construction paper, offers: “Don’t tell me about your dreams of a castle; show me the stones you laid today.”

And on plum paper, Wooden’s wisdom: “Remember this: the choices you make in life, make you.”

To my great pleasure, Matt holds these two heroes of mine in such high regard that their words are flanked on the left, on tangerine paper, by the great Ralph Waldo Emerson – “Do the thing you fear, and the death of fear is certain” – and on the right, on forest-green paper, by no less than Benjamin Franklin – “Hide not your talents; they for use were made. What’s a sundial in the shade?”

More important than posting a new motivational quotation weekly from writers and poets, artists and actors, sports figures and scientists, Matt displays wisdom from his students.

Specifically, inspired by John Wooden’s 7-Point Creed – “Be true to yourself / Make each day your masterpiece / Help others / Drink deeply from good books / Make friendship a fine art / Build shelter against a rainy day / Pray for guidance and give thanks for your blessings every day” – Matt had each student create their own seven personal points.

On 3×5 note cards of yellow and blue and pink, and displayed under the headline “Words of Wisdom from Mesa 8th Graders,” here are some assorted examples:

“The best competition I have is against myself to become better.”

“Not everyone deserves a second chance” and “Ask for help.”

“Saying you have no motivation is an excuse to be lazy” and “Quality over Quantity.”

“Having fun is one of the most important foods for your brain.”

“Being yourself is the best person you can be” and “Don’t worry about what others think of you, worry about what you think of yourself.”

“Friendships are like goldfish: they will die off quickly if you don’t give them love and care.”

“Goals won’t be accomplished by wishing” and “You can’t take it easy on the way up.”

And, “You decide how you roll with life’s hills and valleys.”

This final nugget rang true to me the other day when I figuratively stood atop a hill with a gorgeous view of a valley blooming with poison ivy. The hill’s summit was a reader buying five copies of “Wooden and Me” as gifts and asking me to sign them with personalized inscriptions.

As I was doing so, the gift giver mentioned she already had a copy of the book for herself and when I asked if she would like me to sign it as well, she said it was already inscribed. Sheepishly, she confessed it was actually personalized to a different name than hers because she picked it up at a garage sale.

She offered to show me the name, but I decided to roll with life’s valleys and declined on the ego-bruising off chance it was someone I knew!

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Growing an Old Friend Takes Time

by Woody

Coach John Wooden, during the two decades I was blessed to be his friend, told me many, many wise things – “Wooden-isms” I like to call them – including this gem: “It takes a long time to grow an old friend.”

I think of these words every time my wife is on the phone with Nanette, for they met a long time ago, all the way back in kindergarten, back in the Midwest, back in the early 1960s, and their friendship has been growing ever since. Despite thousands of miles between them literally, and even more miles figuratively along life’s roads of moves and college and marriage and families and more, they have remained dear friends.

I wish you could hear them on the phone together. I bet you have a similar rare friend. When they chat it is a time machine and they remain forever young, forever 5, or forever 11 when Lisa moved away from Northern Ohio to Southern California. Every few years, when phone calls simply won’t suffice, they meet up in various vacation cities for a girls’ weekend.

My daughter, Dallas, does Lisa and Nanette even better for a friendship starting age. She and Mikey planted the seed of an old friendship when they were 3 years young in daycare. They proceeded to go through school together, from kindergarten to senior year in high school, and did not lose touch after graduation. Indeed, a full three decades after they first took naps side by side on their sitter Jeanie’s living room floor, these two first-ever friends remain among each other’s best ones.

And yet the gold medal for a green thumb at growing an old friend, in my firsthand observation, is my 96-year-old dad who has a childhood friend of nearly that full life span. Although Lilly still lives in Urbana, Ohio, where they grew up together, they talk on the phone nearly weekly.

I, too, have tried to put Coach’s wisdom into practice. Although my family moved away from my birthplace of Columbus, Ohio to Ventura when I was 12, I have remained friends with an elementary school classmate who was also my tennis doubles partner. Jim Hendrix, a lefty with a wicked slice serve, was almost as magical with tennis strings as his famous namesake was with guitar strings and helped carry us to quite a few championship trophy victories. He eventually played at Ohio State where his father had once been the Buckeyes’ head coach.

An Irish proverb, and I have distant shamrock roots, says: “A good friend is like a four-leaf clover; hard to find and lucky to have.” Lucky for me on the first day of classes in seventh grade most of my teachers made their seating charts alphabetically. As a four-leaf-clover result, I found myself sitting next to Mark Wilson and Brian Whalen in quite a few classes.

I instantly had two new friends. We called ourselves “The Three W’s” and were as inseparable as the Three Musketeers all the way through high school. We were “That 70’s Show” 20 years before it aired, hanging out in Mark’s family room playing bumper pool and listening to music and watching “Fernwood 2 Night” and just being goofy teens.

But life, as it will, eventually took us on different paths, near and far. Slowly our contact faded mostly to Christmas cards. Lucky us, in the past decade we reconnected after all three W’s wound up physically close once more in Ventura County.

A brand-new reconnection with an old friend is where we will pick up in next week’s column.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make

A Walk Long Remembered

by Woody

A very personal anniversary arrives next week, not of my wedding, but rather a milestone marking 35 years to the morning when I walked with John Wooden for the first time.

March 31, 1987 – Tuesday then, this year Thursday – was a day so special I marked it in my datebook of birthdays and anniversaries to remember. It proved to be an occasion that changed my life for Coach became my friend and mentor, and later a great-grandfather figure to my two children. I pinch myself still for such grand luck.

Coach and me during one of many magical visits.

In the long span since, I have written more columns on Wooden than on anyone else, as well as a book; when I give guest talks he is the person most often asked about, even now 12 years after his death at age 99; so here is a stroll down memory lane.

After interviewing Coach following a lecture he gave, he invited me to join him on his daily four-mile walk. Aware of his maxim, “Be on time whenever time is involved,” I left Santa Maria when the stars were still out and arrived in Encino with nearly an hour to spare.

At the appointed time, seven o’clock sharp, I nervously pressed the buzzer outside the condominium’s entrance. Coach, true to his code, was ready and waiting and immediately came out. After warm pleasantries on a cool and dewy Southern California spring morning, we set forth around Mister Wooden’s Neighborhood.

For the first mile or two, I peppered Coach with basketball questions but he then turned the tables and asked about my life. He was delighted to learn I was going to become a father in August and asked when was the due date.

“The eighth,” I replied and Coach stopped cold, his eyes visibly misting up. That was his and Nell’s wedding anniversary, he shared. High school sweethearts, they had been married 53 years before her death to cancer two years before our walk.

On that magical morning, I was 26 and Coach was 76 – the exact age at which my paternal grandfather died two decades earlier. Indeed, sitting in Coach’s living room after breakfast I felt like I was not with a living legend so much as visiting with what I fondly remembered my beloved grandfather to be like.

Like Wooden, my Grandpa Ansel was raised on a Midwestern farm – in Ohio rather than Indiana. Like Wooden, Grandpa enjoyed Shakespeare greatly and also similarly favored “Hamlet.” Like Wooden, Grandpa loved poetry and wrote verse. And like Wooden, Grandpa had once been a schoolteacher, albeit for only a few years in order to earn tuition for medical school.

Moreover, Grandpa’s familiar reminder to me, “If something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right,” surely echoed Coach’s oft-repeated aphorism, “If you don’t have time to do it right, when will you have time to do it over?” Similarly, Grandpa’s “If you don’t learn anything today it will be a wasted day” dovetailed perfectly with Coach’s “Learn as if you were to live forever; live as if you were to die tomorrow.”

John Muir, reflecting on meeting – and walking with – Ralph Waldo Emerson in the Yosemite Valley, wrote: “Emerson was the most serene, majestic, sequoia-like soul I ever met. His smile was as sweet and calm as morning light on mountains. There was a wonderful charm in his presence; his smile, serene eye, his voice, his manner, were all sensed at once by everybody. A tremendous sincerity was his.”

Such is how I felt about John Wooden during our first walk and visit – and feel so still.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

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

 

Mourning On A Gloomy Morning

by Woody

My favorite Wooden-ism, as I call John Wooden’s maxims, is “Make each day your masterpiece.”

This past Tuesday never had a chance to be a masterpiece. It was a canvas painted with ugly graffiti; a day where the Southern California sunshine seemed gloomy; a masterpiece ruined because Nan Wooden, the late legendary coach’s daughter, passed away in the morning at age 87 of natural causes.

The news squeezed my heart so hard it felt bruised and brought me to tears. Losing a friend is never easy, even one you have never met. Indeed, all the times I visited Coach in his home during our two-decade friendship, Nan never happened to be present.

That is not entirely accurate. Her presence was always felt through photos on display and our conversations.

Coach John Wooden and daughter Nan at at UCLA basketball game.

When my daughter Dallas was born – coincidentally, and sentimentally for Coach, her due date was his and Nell’s wedding anniversary – he shared how over-the-moon he had been when Nan was born and that I was likewise sure to be wrapped around my own little girl’s finger.

Two years later when my son arrived, Coach pointed out that we had both been blessed with “one of each” and in the same order. After that, I always paired Nan with Dallas, his Jim with my Greg, and I think Coach did likewise.

When Coach passed away a decade ago, I sent Nan a condolence card care of her father’s address. In the months, and even years, to follow I wish I had made a greater effort to reach out through others to set up a visit.

Among many things I would have loved to ask her was something I should have asked her “Daddy” as she called him even in her old age: Did he ever put notes with Wooden-ism – Daddy-isms to her! – in her school lunches?

I would have shared with Nan how I had made a daily habit of writing notes such as “Have a great day!” or “Good luck on your spelling test!” or “I miss you lots!” on paper napkins and putting them inside Dallas’s Little Mermaid lunchbox and Greg’s Power Rangers lunchbox.

Then, after I took them to meet her Daddy one unforgettable afternoon when they were 10 and nearly 8, I started adding his pearls of wisdom such as “Be quick, but don’t hurry” (a great reminder before a spelling test) and “Happiness begins where selfishness ends” and “Little things make big things happen” and dozens more.

Coach’s Seven-Point Creed, one line at a time, became a frequent go-to napkin jotting: “Be true to yourself. Make each day your masterpiece. Help others. Drink deeply from good books. Make friendship a fine art. Build shelter against a rainy day. Pray for guidance and give thanks for your blessings every day.”

We would discuss Wooden-isms at the dinner table and also talked about Coach’s “Pyramid of Success” and his personal definition of success: “Success is peace of mind which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you did your best to become the best you are capable of becoming.”

Today, Dallas is already teaching Wooden-isms to her nearly 3-year-old daughter Maya and Greg frequently texts Wooden’s gems to me! I think Nan would have enjoyed hearing all this.

About losing Nell, Coach wrote to me once: “I no longer have any fear of death as that is my only chance, if He will forgive me of my sins, to be with her again.”

Maybe last Tuesday was a masterpiece day after all, in Heaven, with Coach, Nell and Nan smiling at their reunion.

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

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

Notes, Quotes, T-Shirts and Smiles

by Woody

There is a photograph I came across recently I wish you could see. It is of a bus stop in Montreal with an elderly couple seated and waiting for their ride.

Specifically, the wife is looking at her husband with mirth on her face and even though his head is turned away from the camera, I cannot help but imagine he is also smiling with merriment because …

… they are sitting not on a bench, but on side-by-by seats of a giant swing set and have their feet up as they sail to and fro like kindergarteners.

I think the world needs more swing-set bus stops.

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            Also, I think the world needs more of us to display the attitude emblazoned on a T-shirt that basketball legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar created in collaboration with the estate of Bruce Lee to celebrate what would have been the late martial arts movie superstar’s 80th birthday.

In college at UCLA the two were good friends who came into focus quite differently: Kareem stood 7-foot-2 while Bruce was 5-foot-8; Bruce was Asian-American and Kareem is Black. All of which makes the photograph of them clinching hands together in smiling friendship on the T-shirt with this quote from Kareem more powerful:

“Make a friend with someone who doesn’t look like you. . . you might change the world.”

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“Ganbatte” is a Japanese word I came across this week that would make for an empowering motto on a T-shirt.

Translated, “ganbatte” (gan-bare) means “do your best” and is frequently used by cheering crowds during marathons. But “ganbatte” is more than a passing encouragement for good luck – it is an exhortation centered on the idea of hard work and perseverance in the face of adversity.

In other words, “don’t give up.”

Or, to paraphrase Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s coach in college, John Wooden: “Ganbatte (success) is peace of mind, which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you made the effort to become the best of which you are capable.”

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            Far too long to fit on a T-shirt, this unattributed wisdom made me smile – all the more so because my grown daughter and son were both home for the long Memorial Day weekend and brought some laundry with them…

“Come home and bring your laundry. I don’t understand the whole ‘I got them to 18’ method as a parent. Having children is a LIFETIME commitment. Maybe I’m just different, but I want my kids to come take groceries and toilet paper out of my cabinets when they are 25. I want them to stop for dinner when it is their favorite meal at age 34. I want to watch their eyes sparkle when they are opening gifts they wanted for Christmas at 40. I want them to know I’m one call away and it doesn’t stop at age 18. They are forever my kids, not temporary assignments!

And, yes, my wife cooked our 34- and 31-year-olds their favorite meals – a fancy chicken dish and comfort-food mashed potatoes for the girl; cheese-stuffed pasta shells and meatballs for the boy – and we sent them home with groceries.

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On the recent May 25th birth date of Ralph Waldo Emerson I came across this gem of his that should be taught to kindergarteners on playground swings and reminded to senior citizens on bus-stop swings: “You cannot do a kindness too soon because you will never know when it’s too late.”

Similarly, it’s never too soon to do your best – ganbatte! – to make a friend with someone doesn’t look like you.

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

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

Making Friendship A Fine Art

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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Making Friendship

A Fine Art

My friend Kurt phoned out of the blue the other morning for no other reason than to say “hi” and catch up. His timing was perfect as I was in need of a little pick-me-up. By the time he said “ciao” my socks were filled with helium.

After hanging up, my mind drifted to Coach John Wooden – whose birth date, coincidentally, is this coming Wednesday – and some lessons on friendship he taught me during the two decades I knew him.

The first time I joined Coach on his daily four-mile morning walk some 30 years ago, he gave me a laminated card featuring his father’s “Seven-Point Creed” that includes “Make friendship a fine art.”

In an effort to be such an artist, the next time I visited Coach I brought along a small gift. Knowing his love of poetry, I selected a hardback collection by Rumi. Shortly thereafter, I received a handwritten thank-you note and a copy of a poem authored by Coach titled On Friendship:

At times when I am feeling low, / I hear from a friend and then

My worries start to go away / And I am on the mend

No matter what the doctors say – / And their studies never end

The best cure of all, when spirits fall, / Is a kind word from a friend

More prized than the signed poem is that over the ensuing years Coach turned those stanzas into curing words, and deeds, when my spirits fell – particularly after my mom passed away and later when I was nearly killed by a drunk driver.

Coach also had a gift for raising my spirits when they were already high. For example, when I next visited him he recited a poem from the gift Rumi book. I must confess I did not know who he was quoting until he told me. Fittingly, the selection was titled “Love” which Coach insisted was the most important word in the English language.

The poem recital was a thoughtful gesture of rare grace and a lesson through example that saying “thank you” is nice, but to show thanks is far better. In other words, wear a new sweater or necklace the next time you see the person who gave it to you; put a gift vase on proud display before the giver visits; memorize a poem or line from a book given to you.

Another life lesson put into practice was how Coach always gave his full attention on the phone and never seemed in a hurry to hang up. Indeed, if he was too busy to talk he would simply not answer in the first place rather than risk the prospect of having to be in a rude rush.

I fondly remember visiting Coach once when the phone rang and he let the call go through to his answering machine. It was his way of telling me I was his guest and merited full attention. This unspoken kindness became even more meaningful seconds later after the “Beep!” when a very familiar voice could be heard leaving a message.

“That’s Bill Walton!” I said, excitedly. “You’d better answer it!”

Coach Wooden did not reach for the phone and instead told me with a devilish smile: “Heavens no! Bill calls me all the time. If I pick up he’ll talk my ear off for half an hour and then you and I won’t get to visit. I’ll talk with him later.”

I’m glad I did not have a visitor when Kurt phoned the other day while making friendship a fine art.

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

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

Final Goodbye To Role-Model Friend

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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A Final Goodbye To

Role-Model Friend

What do you say to a friend when you know it is the final goodbye?

I contemplated this heartbreaking question last month when, after three major surgeries and seven years of courageously battling incurable brain cancer, Larry Baratte entered hospice care. He would pass away shortly thereafter, five days shy of 61.

Searching impossibly for words remotely worth sharing at such a time, I kept circling back to the same thought – tell Larry his friendship and role-model-ship in my life have been John Wooden-like. Larry would well know I have no higher praise to offer.

To begin, Coach Wooden believed nothing is more important than “love” and “family.” I cannot imagine a family filled with more love than Larry’s – his dear wife, Beth, and their three adult sons, Chase, Collin and Cole.

Considering this similarity, and weighing what else to say, a new realization became clear: Four coaches have truly impacted my life. Interestingly, not as my sports coaches; rather, they have been life coaches to me.

This personal Mount Rushmore: John Wooden, Laszlo Tabori, Dick Gould and Larry Baratte.

Wooden’s teams won 10 NCAA basketball titles in a 12-year span; Tabori, the third man to break 4 minutes in the mile, coached three state championship junior college track teams, guided two pupils to marathon world records, and trained the distance runners at USC; and Gould, a Ventura native, coached the Stanford men’s tennis team to an astonishing 17 NCAA championships.

Larry measured up fully, coaching the Ventura College men’s and women’s swimming and water polo teams to 27 Western State Conference titles and two state championships.

As I said, however, it is not as athletic coaches that this Fab Four has influenced my life. It is by their example, their friendship, their inspiration.

“Put your guts to it!” Tabori would implore his Trojan runners, including my son. After befriending me, Laszlo preached this mantra in regards to my writing.

Wooden, naturally, instilled in me his 7-Point Creed: “Be true to yourself; Help others; Make each day your masterpiece; Drink deeply from good books; Make friendship a fine art; Build shelter against a rainy day; Pray for guidance and counsel, and give thanks for your blessings every day.”

Gould offers similar nuggets of wisdom, such as “Stress improvement, not perfection”; “Don’t take yourself too seriously, laugh at yourself, and have fun”; and “Be positive, walk tall, smile often, don’t complain or procrastinate.”

Likewise, Larry had his “How To Live” rules:

“Each day is a blessing.

“Give gratitude daily – life truly is a gift.

“Soak-in the beauty around you.

“Have your smile be your ‘resting face.’

“Slow down and be thankful every day!

“Give back to others anytime you have an opportunity!

“Default to KINDNESS – drown out the noise.

“Love deeply with a warm heart.

“Remember: You can get through anything – ANYTHING – with a positive attitude!

“Embrace the beautiful love of great friendships – it’s priceless!”

Larry lived genuinely by his rules. One personal example occurred a handful of years past when he attended a grand function in Los Angeles. After being introduced to John Wooden’s daughter, Nan, Larry did not ask her questions of his own interest. Instead, he thoughtfully made our friendship a fine art by bringing me into the conversation.

Driving home, Larry made my day a masterpiece by phoning to share: “When I mentioned you, Nan lit up and said, ‘Daddy loved Woody.’ ”

It remains a thrill I will never forget.

Larry was a friend I loved and will never forget. I am thankful I was able to tell him so.

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

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

Mister Rogers and Mr. Wooden

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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Matching bookends:

Mister Rogers and Mr. Wooden

The recent release of the movie “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” starring Tom Hanks, made me wish I had met Mister Rogers.

After a moment’s mild envy I realized, in a manner, I did for I was blessed to know Mister Wooden. Indeed, John Wooden and Fred Rogers were in many ways matching human bookends.

Mister Rogers famously used puppets for teaching.

Both famous men humbly considered themselves teachers at heart; were kind to their core; and felt “love” was the most important word in the English language. Daily, Rogers swam 20 minutes and Wooden walked four miles. Both personally answered every fan letter they received. Both made being “old-fashioned” cool.

While I never visited “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood,” I dropped by Mister Wooden’s neighborhood in Encino many times. One visit, when I took my two young children to meet Wooden, reminds me especially of Mister Rogers. After all, one of the highlights featured a stuffed animal.

After leading my then-8-year-old son, 10-year-old daughter and me into the living room, the first thing Wooden did was excuse himself to retrieve something off a shelf in his study. One of his ten NCAA national championship trophies? A Coach of the Year or Hall of Fame plaque? Or perhaps he was getting down one of the many humanitarian awards that had him sharing august company with such notables as Mother Teresa, Jimmy Carter, and Melinda Gates?

“Heavens sakes, no!” to borrow one of Wooden’s favorite phrases of exasperation. Instead, the acclaimed “Wizard of Westwood” returned carrying a small, stuffed gorilla about the size of a teddy bear. It was wearing a red vest with a matching bowtie. And the fancy anthropoid could talk.

“You’re a genius!!!” the talking stuffed ape in the fancy red vest said enthusiastically, his words of praise meriting three exclamation marks at the least.

My son and daughter visiting with Coach John Wooden.

“Excellent thinking!!!” it continued.

“You’re brilliant!!!”

“Grrreat idea!!!”

“That’s fabuuulous!!!”

“That’s awesome!!!”

“Outstanding!!!”

My son and daughter laughed, as did I. Wooden smiled at them before giving me a knowing wink. What appeared to be a child’s toy to others, The Greatest Basketball Coach Who Ever Lived saw as a teaching tool.

“This is The Self-Esteem Ape,” Coach explained softly and warmly – in a Mister Rogers-like voice I now realize – as he cradled the stuffed animal given to him by his daughter Nan. “When our self-esteem is a little low, we all need to be picked up a little.”

John Wooden, like Fred Rogers, was a Self-Esteem Wizard.

A photograph of my kids sitting on Coach’s lap reveals how completely comfortable they felt in his company from the start. Both kids have taken a framed print with them to every college dorm room, apartment and house they have lived in since. Indeed, both cite that as one of the most magical days in their lives.

During our two-hour visit, Coach talked to my kids about basketball for about five minutes and spent the rest of the time sharing stories about his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. About Nellie. About his idols Abraham Lincoln (“There is nothing stronger than gentleness”) and Mother Teresa (“If you can’t feed a hundred people, feed just one”). About his famous Pyramid of Success.

And about his father Joshua’s “Two Sets of Threes: Don’t whine. Don’t complain. Don’t make excuses. / Never lie. Never cheat. Never steal.”

Escorting his three visitors outside to the front gate at the conclusion of the rose-petal-pressed-in-a-scrapbook-like afternoon, Coach Wooden added a fourth Never:

“Never forget,” The Wizard of Self-Esteem told my kids, a hand on each of their shoulders, “how special you are.”

Sounds like Mister Rogers, doesn’t it?

 *   *   *

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

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

“Today Is The Only Day”

by Woody

*

Live Today, Not in the Past or Future

            “Make each day your masterpiece” merits all the yellows in my rainbow of favorite John Wooden maxims, but it is a Woodenism in a neighboring shade of green, “Today is the only day – yesterday is gone,” that is on my mind at the moment.

Two months of todays past, I wrote a column about longtime Thousand Oaks resident Bob Fitch and his love of typewriters. More specifically, about how having learned to type in a high school class benefited him in the military in the 1950s.

Two weeks of todays after “Typing Out A Memorable Story” ran in this space, I received an email bearing a rainbow-eclipsing storm cloud. It was from Bob’s son, Dave, who wrote:

“Some sad news to share with you – my dad recently was checked into Los Robles Hospital. They determined his respiratory issues were due to a failing heart valve that had been replaced 10 years ago.

“Dad passed away on Monday. We were with him and he passed away peacefully. We are comforted and assured by God’s word, knowing he is in a far better place now. We had a lot of fun with him and we will miss him. Thanks for being a part of his life!”

After signing off, Dave added a kind postscript: “Oh, BTW – he did get to see your article and enjoyed it!”

By coincidence, serendipity, or perhaps fate, a symbiotic email arrived the very same day. This one was from my daughter, forwarding a blog of one of her favorite writers, Alexandra Franzen.

“My younger sister Olivia, my dad, and I all went out for dinner in New York City,” Franzen began. “I live in Hawaii (mostly) these days. Miss O is based in Colorado. Dad’s in California. It’s unusual that we’re together in the same location. I wanted to make the most of this rare, precious moment.”

A few paragraphs later: “I listened to my dad’s stories. I nodded when my sister spoke. I smiled when it was appropriate to smile. I politely thanked the waiter for each item. But, to be honest, I wasn’t completely in the room. My mind was only halfway present.”

After sharing a laundry list of her distractions, Franzen shared an epiphany moment: “While collecting our coats at the exit, the restaurant hostess smiled at me and said, ‘It’s wonderful that you got to have dinner with your dad tonight.’

“ ‘Yeah, uh huh, for sure,’ I said, or something to that effect. Only half-listening. In a thick fog. Rummaging around in my bag for a stick of gum.

“ ‘My dad died last year,’ the hostess added, very quietly. Her voice was so soft, nearly drowned out by the din of the bustling restaurant. ‘I miss him every day.’

“I looked up, meeting her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry.’

“I stepped outside and immediately linked elbows with my dad, holding him very, very close as we walked arm in arm back to the hotel. Sometimes, I fall asleep in the middle of my own life. Until something, or someone, reminds me to wake up.”

Franzen concluded with this sagacious advice: “If there’s something you want to do, do it now. If there’s something you want to say, say it now. If you’re reading this on a phone in your bed, put down your device and hold your partner instead. The emails can wait. One day, all of this ends. But for now, here we are. And today is not over yet.”

In other words, in John Wooden’s timeless words, “There is only today – yesterday is gone.”

And tomorrow is not promised.

*   *   *

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

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …