Laughing Through Mourning Tears

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

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“Tonight’s the night we make Greg shoot milk out his nose,” the 10-year-old oldest of three brothers whispered conspiratorially to the middle sibling, two years his junior, as the youngest boy and victim, age 5, sat across the dinner table totally unaware.

For nearly six decades I have remained in the dark that one of the most memorable meals in our family lore had been orchestrated, at my expense, by my two big brothers. With the statute of limitations for being grounded having long expired, Doug, the middle brother, recently confessed to the premeditation during a beautiful eulogy for Jim.

Though their plan was hatched hastily, it nonetheless was executed to perfection: when I started drinking greedily like a parched man lost in a desert, a wicked wisecrack was delivered and the resultant burst of laughter turned my nose into an Old Faithful-like geyser of chocolate milk. If you have never had milk spew out your nose, I do not recommend it for it stings so greatly as to make your eyes cry.

Here is something else I want to share from the “Celebration of Life” honoring Jim’s masterpiece span that was cut far too short by cancer (today, September 13, he would have turned 69): Never be so afraid of saying the wrong thing that you fail to say anything to those who are grieving.

Indeed, I have come to realize since Jim’s passing, and my 97-year-old father’s death only a few months prior also to despicable cancer, that any words of condolence are more appreciated than no words.

Even just a couple words can speak volumes and mean the world. When I posted my column about Jim’s death on Facebook, a dear friend posted a comment of exactly two words in full—“Oh, Woody”—that touched my heart deeply and brought to mind a line by Bodil Malmsten, a Swedish poet, who once conceded: “This hurts too much for words.”

When words hurt too much, just the simple expression “I’m sorry” is a welcomed balm for grief. As another friend says to the idea of worrying about saying something awkwardly: “When it is said from the heart, it will be received by the heart.”

Those who shared their own memories of Jim, in person or by note, warmed my heart more than they can know. Donations in his honor, flowers or planting a memorial tree, or dropping off meals were all likewise touching.

At the service, I am not sure which was a more powerful salve for the soul: seeing the familiar faces one knows, without question, would be there—or faces that were wonderfully unexpected. Of the latter was a teacher from my adult kids’ past who, despite it being a school day, hustled nearly a mile on foot to the church during lunch break to express his condolences before the memorial got underway and then raced back to class.

Being in a mourning fog, and also mentally rehearsing the eulogy I would shortly give, I do not recall exactly what our teacher friend said to me. And yet I will not forget that he, and every single person who expressed condolences in any fashion at all, made Maya Angelou’s often-quoted words ring true:

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

Doug, meanwhile, made me wonderfully feel 5 years old again with his belated confession. Had I been drinking milk I surely would have snorted it out while once again laughing through my tears.

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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

Two Stories of Delivered Kindness

The scene seemed so perfectly choreographed as to belong on a movie screen, not on a real city street.

A teenager, male and perhaps pushing age 20, was pedaling a bike while being pursued at a dead sprint by a young boy, no older than seven or eight, who in turn was being chased—flip-flop, flip-flop, flip-flop—by a woman in sandals.

A bicycle theft in progress was my first reaction, but in a flash I realized the bike was far too big to be the boy’s. No, the teenager must have stolen something else belonging to the boy, who surely belonged to the woman for she was calling out a name as a loving mother would. The boy, meanwhile, kept running and kept yelling “stop! Stop! STOP!”

Surprisingly, the thief hit the breaks and turned around…

…and turned out not to be a thief at all. Rather, he had dropped his hair pick and the boy had picked it up and raced him down to return it. I wish you could have seen the tall teen’s warm smile and the small boy’s big grin, and mine as well for having witnessed this feel-good deed.

Another good-hearted stranger gave me a broad smile the other day, except this time I was on the receiving end of the kindness. This tale begins with me sending a Priority Mail package to a dear friend. Alas, the advance copy of my soon-to-be-released novel “The Butterfly Tree” (more on this in a few weeks) flitted into the wrong mailbox.

Marcela Pearson, the unintended recipient, initially considered writing “Wrong address / Return to sender” on the front but instead decided to take matters into her own hands and fingers with a Google search.

“The picture of the typewriter on the return address label was a clue and it matched the graphics on your website,” Marcela explained as to how she found my email address and surmised I was the right Woody Woodburn to contact. She further asked for the correct mailing address so she could personally drop off the package.

I assumed my Good Samaritan would merely have to walk a few houses up or down her street, but this proved to greatly underestimate how far the mailing had missed its mark.

“Dear Woody, I just dropped off your package,” Marcela emailed me later the same day, and like an Amazon delivery driver even attached a digital photo of the parcel on the “Welcome” mat. “It was only 10 minutes from where I live, so no big deal. I guess (1234 Something Drive) somehow morphed into (234 Different Avenue). Have an awesome day, Marcela.”

No big deal? Far from it. It was an eight-mile round-trip out of her way, and 20-minute out of her day, big deal.

After I thanked her most sincerely, yet still inadequately, Marcela replied: “I am super happy I was able to help. It is really no big deal to drive 10 minutes to a very nice neighborhood; go to a place I have not seen yet. Sounds good to me. Life is about exploring.”

Her note concluded: “Just last week I met some really good people in Colorado. Finding good people sometimes feels like looking for a needle in a haystack—but they live and I keep searching.”

On the topic of good people, Coach John Wooden liked to say, “You can’t live a perfect day until you do something for someone who will never be able to repay you.”

In my book, Marcela and the bike-chasing young boy each recently lived a perfect day.

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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.

Some Things I Have Come to Know…

The mile marker of a birthday is a good time for reflection and so today, shortly before beginning a new personal lap around the sun, here are a few things I have come to know…

Always double-knot your shoelaces.

Never pass up a barefoot walk on the beach.

Love is more powerful than penicillin.

Never ever pass up a chance to gaze at a sunrise or sunset.

Always take the opportunity to gaze at the stars on a clear night – or at Starry Night and other masterpiece paintings.

Speaking of art and masterpieces, these two bookend John Wooden-isms will carry you far: “Make friendship a fine art” and “Make each day your masterpiece.”

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

All the same, Robert Frost was right: Take the road less traveled by.

John Muir was also right when he said, “Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.”

Don’t save the good china plates and crystal goblets and heirloom silverware for special occasions only.

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

Saying “You’re welcome” is as important as saying “Thank you.”

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

A good many movies and books are far too long, but most hugs are too short.

Never pass up a chance to hold hands with a boyfriend or girlfriend, a husband or wife or partner, a child or the elderly.

Don’t let your fears outweigh your dreams.

One minute of encouragement following a defeat or failure or during hard times is worth far more than an hour of accolades and praise after a triumph or big success.

Artificial Intelligence doesn’t worry me half as much as Real Stupidity.

The value of a compliment is often underrated by the giver, but rarely by the person receiving it.

A positive attitude will positively carry you a long, long way.

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

Do unto others as you would have them do unto your children or grandchildren is a better Golden Rule.

We can always make room for one more at the dinner table or in our heart.

Maya Angelou was right: “When you leave home, you take home with you.”

The best travels, and life journeys too, often wind about a little crookedly.

Even a “bad” road trip will give you some good memories to last a lifetime.

It is not truly a favor if you make the recipient feel like you are doing a favor.

It takes worn-out running shoes to finish a marathon; worn-out brushes before you can paint a masterpiece; burnt pots and pans to become a seasoned chef, and blistered fingertips to finally master the guitar.

Some of my very favorite adults seem like they are just tall children.

No matter your age, never pass up a chance to ride a Ferris wheel or carousel.

If you can be world class at only one thing, make it kindness.

My dear 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.”

Don’t waste your time on Earth.

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

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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.

Sauntering and Buddy Benches, too

I have another bench I adore.

As shared here once before, I “collect” benches, storing them in my mind and heart, dating back to a salty-sea-air-weathered wooden bench, high on a bluff with a postcard-worthy panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean, that I made frequent contemplative use of as a student at the University of California, Santa Barbara.

The sitting assemblage includes a steel bench in San Francisco with a look at The Golden Gate Bridge and another of wood tucked away in a secret cove in Kona, Hawaii, where I watched surfers at play; a green-painted cement bench with a plaque reading “The Drake Seat” at Vista Point on Saint Thomas Island, U.S. Virgin Islands, where Sir Francis Drake is said to have looked down for enemy ships of the Spanish fleet far below; a memorial bench on the Ventura Pier with a nameplate honoring Larry “Coach” Baratte; and a hundred more gems, near and far, where I have sat alone enjoying a quiet moment.

My friend “Larry’s” memorial bench on the Ventura Pier.

The new bench I have fallen in love with is one I have not experienced in person, but rather saw in a news story. Painted rainbow colors, it graces an elementary playground and has been christened the “Buddy Bench” and here is why: if a child is lonely at recess, he or she sits on it and waits and the other schoolchildren know to come offer an invitation to join them in play.

This simple idea fosters kindness and friendship so well that Buddy Benches are spreading far and wide at pre- and elementary schools, and public playgrounds as well.

Perhaps Buddy Benches for teens and adults would be a good idea, too.

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Speaking of upbeat stories, or “good little news” as reader of this space Judee Hauer calls them, she shared this with me in an email: “Every day we see, hear, sense bad news, but also the little blessings, chirps, colors of how good life is.

Example of one of my new favorite benches.

“So we need to celebrate the elderly person seen burying a fallen sparrow, digging the small hole with a found branch, covering and talking to the dead creature, marking the spot with a broken piece of asphalt; the house at the corner where somebody has set up two pink plastic chairs at a small table overflowing with 75 mini-animals, inviting a childlike response; smiling eyes under a mask at the doctor’s office; a you-have-the-right-of-way wave…

“There is good right here, right now, all over the place.”

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Coming full circle to column’s beginning, the gorgeous hiking trails in Ventura’s Harmon Canyon Preserve are dotted with a good many lovely benches, and by coincidence – or serendipity – on Earth Day last weekend I came across this quote from John Muir:

“Hiking. I don’t like either the word or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains – not hike! Do you know the origin of that word ‘saunter’? It’s a beautiful word. Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, ‘A la sainte terre,’ ‘To the Holy Land.’ And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers. Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not ‘hike’ through them.”

In this hectic, busy, go-go-go world, maybe we all need to remind ourselves to slow down and saunter through our daily lives a little more often – and ask someone sitting on a Buddy Bench if they want to join us.

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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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The inspiration for this annual endeavor occurred 25 years ago at a youth basketball clinic when former Ventura College and NBA star Cedric Ceballos awarded autographed basketballs to handful of lucky attendees. Leaving the gym afterward, I happened upon a 10-year-old boy who had won one of the prized keepsakes…

…which he was now dribbling on a blacktop outdoor court, and shooting baskets with, all while perhaps imagining he was Ceballos with the game clock ticking down to the final buzzer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

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

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

 

Three Vignettes Worthy of Smiles

Sometimes we all need a smile. Here are three reasons to do so…

Earlier this week my granddaughter, age three – “almost four” she will tell you, even though her birthday is not until December – went to the dentist for the first time.

The milestone event was not anticipated to be like dragging a millstone up a hill. After all, Maya has not only received two COVID-19 vaccination shots without a fuss or fallen tear, out of curiosity she actually watched the needle go in both times. Yes, as Shakespeare wrote in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

Alas, in the waiting room of the pediatric dentist, nervousness was getting the best of Maya and she began to tug on her mommy’s hand to escape home. Just then, an older patient, a boy aged 9 or 10, came out after his exam carrying a long, purple balloon sword…

…and seeing Maya’s distress, the boy became a knight in shining armor by gallantly offering over his sword. Instantly, like a wisp of smoke in a gust of wind, Maya’s fears disappeared and a smooth visit ensued with a full cleaning and fluoride treatment.

Oh yes, and a big smile with no cavities and a second balloon sword.

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With inflation up, and the need for help with food up even more, an experience by a dear friend of mine, who wishes to remain anonymous, seems well worth sharing. A frequent volunteer at a local food pantry, she recalled her first time doing so.

“I spent the morning stocking shelves, breaking down boxes, and helping to distribute food to clients,” she began. “Everyone I encountered was so friendly and genuinely grateful.

“I will remember one woman in particular who was beyond excited to get a package of ground turkey. She was nearly jumping up and down with excitement. The experience made me realize what a gift it is to be able to go to the grocery store and choose what I want to eat. The clients who come to the food pantry are entirely dependent on what the in-coming donations have been that week. I was especially surprised how in-demand canned beans and dried beans always are. Indeed, we often ran out of beans quickly.

“Ever since, I have always been sure include beans when I make donations!”

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With the Ventura County Fair in full swing through this Sunday after a two-year hiatus due to the pandemic, a cherished memory from my youth has given me a smile.

It was a smaller “Country Fair Without Ocean Air” in Ohio. I was 8 and my best friend Dan was 2 – he was born on Feb. 29 and stubbornly only counted his Leap Day birthdays. Dan’s mom gave us, and Dan’s older brother Tom, $3 each as I recall. That was a small fortune considering the games and rides cost a quarter and food treats were equally cheap.

Come afternoon’s end, Tom had miraculously not spent a single dime and his mom said he could keep the $3. Naturally, he taunted us, as big brothers will, bragging about the baseball cards and Matchbox cars he could now buy.

But Dan and I had no regrets. We had gotten dizzy on the rides, been conned shooting hoops and throwing darts at balloons and tossing rings at bottles without winning any prizes, but we still came out ahead and we knew it.

All these years later, I guarantee you Tom doesn’t remember what baseball cards he got, but I still remember the fun Dan and I had.

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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

Sunshine Amidst A Rainy Morning

Some people get caught in a light drizzle and curse their lack of an umbrella.

Others skip in the rain and dance playfully in the puddles.

And then there are those special individuals who, even in the darkest of storms, create rainbows for others wherever they go. My friend Nick is just such a rare human sunbeam. Let me share one shining example.

On a rainy winter morning, Nick ventured down his driveway to retrieve the newspaper and spotted a quite elderly gentleman doing likewise a handful of houses away. The neighbor, however, was using a reach-grabber tool so he wouldn’t have to – or, perhaps, couldn’t – bend down to pick it up.

Furthermore, the man was accompanied by his wife who was holding him seemingly so he wouldn’t fall. In truth, the wife appeared to equally need her husband’s support to keep from toppling.

Indeed, the couple’s driveway was literally a wet and slippery slope waiting for an accident – perhaps a broken hip or arm – to happen.

“I was worried one or both of them would fall and get hurt, maybe seriously,” Nick thought with serious concern. His next impulse was to help this couple he had never met, but quickly a third consideration embraced him: “I didn’t want to bruise their dignity if I walked down the street to help them.”

Nick slept on the matter and the following morning rose a little earlier than usual. Again it was raining, so he walked down the street and stealthily deposited the three newspapers the elderly couple subscribe to on their welcome mat along with an anonymous note that read: “Your paperboy wanted to make your morning a little easier and brighter.”

Thus began a new morning ritual for Nick that brings to my mind Sparky Anderson, the late Hall of Fame baseball manager, who coincidentally lived not far from Nick’s Thousand Oaks neighborhood. Each week on trash day, during his afternoon walk, Sparky would move his neighbors’ barrels from the curb up their driveways. Asked what motivated him to do so, he replied simply: “Woody, it don’t cost nothing at all to be nice.”

Curious about the identity of their nice Samaritan “paperboy,” the elderly couple asked around and eventually phoned Nick to thank him and a new friendship was born.

In sunshine as well as rain, day after week after month, Nick continued his new one-home paper route. And then the mishap he had feared for the elderly couple happened to him – not a fall and injury, but rather COVID-19.

Before going to the hospital with a dangerously low oxygen level, Nick had the presence of mind and heart to find a substitute paperboy. For the two weeks Nick was a patient, and a good while longer while he recuperated at home, a 13-year-old neighborhood boy dutifully delivered the early morning kindness.

When Nick was finally fit to resume his paper route an unexpected problem reared its head – its teenage head.

“He wouldn’t give it back,” Nick says with a laugh. “He told me it started his day with a sense of purpose and responsibility and a good feeling in his heart.”

And so it was that the teen boy continued the daily Sparky-like act of niceness until the couple recently moved away to be closer to their grandchildren.

Here’s hoping that another human sunbeam in the couple’s new neighborhood sees them with a reach-grabber tool and is inspired to escort their newspapers up to their welcome mat. As Ernest Hemingway wrote in the “The Sun Also Rises”, “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”

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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

 

A Waterfall Seen, A Fall Averted

“When in Rome…” when one is in Hawai’i means attending a luau.

The hour drive north from Kona along the coast was spectacular and the traditional feast at the famous Mauna Kea Beach Hotel did not disappoint either.

A whole pig – slow-roasted for most of the day after being stuffed with steaming lava stones, then wrapped in wet banana leaves and buried over koa wood embers in a sandpit – took center stage on a buffet table fit for a king.

After dinner, on a raised outdoor stage, a history lesson of the island’s royalty was performed. This included reenacted battles and courtships, warriors blowing thunderous notes on conch shells, and hula dancers turning their hips into rhythmic earthquakes. It was a Broadway Show under the stars.

A luau sunset at the Mauna Kea Beach Hotel.

And yet the highlight of the evening was neither music nor dance, food nor mai tai, but rather the ocean backdrop as the sun melted into the horizon with the lava beach so near one could hear the crashing waves.

Describing the sea’s deep shades of blue and bluer, and the warm oranges and golds of the finger-painted kaleidoscope-colored sky with scattered clouds slowly turning to streaks of flame, is like trying to describe Monet’s “San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk.” Words fail greatly.

The sunset was all the more personally special because this hotel, these grounds, this paradisial ocean view was perhaps my mom’s favorite place on earth. She vacationed here many, many times, including not long before she died 30 years ago. It is hard to believe today, April 29, would have been her 90th birthday.

As you can imagine, as I gazed at the sundown scene the salty ocean mist was not the only thing moistening my cheeks.Akaka Falls

“When in Rome…” also meant visiting Akaka Falls State Park near Hilo. At 442 feet Akaka Falls falls far shy of Yosemite Falls’ 2,425 feet, and yet its breathtaking-ness measures up fully for it is tucked inside a lush rainforest filled with wild orchids, draping ferns, towering bamboo, all with a soundtrack featuring a symphony of songbirds.

The short hike to the lookout point view of the Falls is undemanding with a paved path and stairs, and yet this site provided a challenge for some – and provided an additional memorable sight for me. Two men were struggling to carry a wheelchair with a pre-teen boy in it down a section of steps when a stranger heading the opposite way, having seen the Falls already, reversed course and paused to help them…

…and then patiently waited to assist them on their return trip up the path.

That kindness on the Akaka Falls stairs brought me full circle to the luau. Leaving the grounds, an elderly gentleman was ascending a long outdoor cement stairway and path when a woman behind him touched his shoulder to tell him his shoe was untied. It was a trip, fall and broken bone waiting to happen.

The man waved her away, not rudely but not politely either, and proceeded on. Her worry rising with each of his next few steps, the lady Samaritan pardoned him again and offered to retie his shoe for him. This time he smiled and accepted her help.

I smiled, too, for this woman’s kindness reminded me of my mom who did a similar thing once at the Mauna Kea. Sharing a dinner table with a very elderly couple, and seeing the husband stranger struggle with his knife, my mom cut his steak into bite sizes as nonchalantly as a mother helpfully retying a young child’s undone shoelace.

To be continued…

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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

 

Gift of Giving Balls Bounces Back

“The gift is to the giver and comes back most to him,” wrote the wise, and Santa Claus-bearded, Walt Whitman. “It cannot fail.”

Star readers who have given to “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive” for local disadvantaged youth are experiencing the unfailing truth of the above sentiment. As Sally and Tom Reeder shared: “We had the most glorious day yesterday buying a total of 16 various balls to donate for Christmas – and none of them need batteries!”

Alan and Kathy Hammerand, who donated three each basketballs, soccer balls and footballs, noted similarly: “Being able to assist kids in having sports balls available for their enjoyment is a great way to get the holiday season started on a very positive note.”

Ben Coats, after dishing out a baker’s dozen of basketballs, said without any sugar coating: “I hate the idea of kids having a lousy Christmas.”

A mountain of gifts from “Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive.”

Here are some more generous Star readers who have replaced lousy lumps of coal with new sports balls…

Lucie and Rick Estberg donated two basketballs and two soccer balls.

Allison Johnson donated a basketball in honor of her brother Michael Demeter.

Bob Wisma gave kids a high-five in the form of two footballs, two basketballs and one soccer ball.

Howard Reich passed in an assortment of 15 balls and Lynne and Don Steensma donated eight more.

Jeff Barks gave two each basketballs and soccer balls; Joey Siddens donated one soccer ball and one basketball; and Steven and Theresa Yamamoto passed in one volleyball and one basketball.

Dan and Judy Dugan donated eight basketballs and Mickey and Lynne Harris donated four basketballs.

Susan Adamich gave one basketball and one wish: “To make a happy Christmas for a child out there.”

Wendy Spasiano donated an assortment of 21 balls and Thomas and Karyne Roweton passed in three balls.

Kay Morgan and her husband donated 20 softball-and-mitt sets.

Bobbie and Dave Williams donated two soccer balls and two basketballs and Diane Hunn did likewise.

Tim and Cindy Hansen donated a mesh bag as big as Santa’s toy sack filled with 10 balls.

Jerry and Linda Mendelsohn, and their numerous grandchildren, made it a family affair by teaming up to “lovingly provide” 10 basketballs and 10 soccer balls.

Sharon Martin kicked in two footballs and three basketballs while Rick and Mary Whiting gave two each soccer balls and basketballs.

Charis Werner was a triple triple-threat donating three each basketballs, soccer balls and footballs.

“I can imagine all the kids enjoying their gift balls,” noted an anonymous donor who gave a dozen baseballs in honor of his dad and 10 basketballs in remembrance of Jim Cowan.

Judy Magee-Windle dished out four basketballs and Steve and Bobbin Yarbrough gave two basketballs.

Kay Giles and Michael Mariani kicked in six soccer balls while Lucie and Charles Estberg gave one volleyball, football, soccer ball and basketball.

Glen Sittel, who gave three balls, echoed Walt Whitman’s opening quote by noting: “Knowing so many kids will receive these ideal gifts makes the gift of giving so worthwhile.”

There is still time to give holiday smiles by dropping off new sports balls at a local Boys & Girls Club, YMCA, house of worship, youth group – or to Jensen Design & Survey at 1672 Donlon St. in Ventura, 93003 (9 a.m. to 5 p.m. through Dec. 17) and I’ll take it from there. Online orders can be shipped to the same address.

Also, please email me about your gift woodywriter@gmail.com so I can thank you in this space and add your generosity to this year’s final tally that will be shared here on Christmas Day.

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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

 

 

Hole Leads To Whole New Beauty

Imagine a teenager looking in the mirror while getting ready for prom and seeing an eyesore pimple. That’s the kind of chill I felt the other day when I put on my favorite pullover and spotted a small hole, impossible to miss, in the front.

Understand, I have had this wool, olive green, quarter-zipper, vintage Patagonia pullover for close to two decades, and have babied it for half that time trying to extend its life as long as possible. As a result, it has spent more time inside a dresser drawer than out in the world, which is not a good thing.

Also as a result, it has made more than its share of appearances at happy gatherings and special events, which is a good thing. The unsightly new blemish, however, promised to retire Ol’ Green from marquee billing.

While age finally claimed its youthful beauty, I did not want the small hole to get stretched and pulled and torn into a larger one. “A stitch in time saves nine” but, alas, my skill with needle and thread is limited to sewing a button back on a shirt. Meanwhile, my wife felt the emotional pressure of a surgeon being asked to operate on a loved one and begged out.

My next thought was to ask my dear Betsy Ross-like friend Kathy. I wish you could see her handiwork on Ol’ Green. Darned if her darning isn’t masterful. The interwoven needlework is nearly invisible.

In truth, I’m actually glad the repair is slightly visible. I say this after thinking about the Shakers who were renowned for their furniture design and craftsmanship, yet deliberately introduced a “mistake” into the things they made in order to show that man should not aspire to the perfection of God. Flawed, they believed, could be ideal.

Ol’ Green is now similarly ideal.

Navajos, echoing the Shakers, purposely weave a single imperfection into their handmade blankets. To their eyes this makes the blankets more, not less, beautiful. In his terrific book, “Blood and Thunder: The Epic Story of Kit Carson and the Conquest of the American West,” author Hamptom Sides elaborates on this mindset:

“Navajos hated to complete anything – whether it was a basket, a blanket, a song, or a story. They never wanted their artifacts to be too perfect, or too close-ended, for a definitive ending cramped the spirit of the creator and sapped the life from the art. So they left little gaps and imperfections, deliberate lacunae that kept things alive for another day.

“Even today Navajo blankets often have a faint imperfection designed to let the creation breathe – a thin line that originates from the center and extends all the way to the edge, sometimes with a single thread dangling from its border. Tellingly, the Navajos call the intentional flaw the ‘spirit outlet.’ ”

Henceforth, I will take the Shakers’ and Navajos’ perspectives to heart when I wear Ol’ Green and embrace its repaired imperfection as a “spirit outlet.”

“Kintsugi” also comes to my mind, which is the Japanese practice of repairing broken pottery with seams of gold and, in the process, making the object even more beautiful for having been broken. That is exactly how I feel about my beloved pullover.

From now on, instead of saving Ol’ Green for special occasions I am going to wear it regularly. And when future holes and “spirit outlets” appear, and surely they will, I may ask Kathy to perform her seamstress wizardry with gold thread instead of perfectly matched olive.

Ol’ Green-and-Gold will then be even more beautiful than ever.

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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