Tag Archives: Mother’s Day

Complaint Department Is Closed

by Woody

If you were expecting 600 words of grumpiness, griping and cantankerousness today, read no further – The Complaint Department is temporarily closed. Seeing so many vaccinated smiles, naked of masks, safely out and about outdoors has chased away the stay-and-shelter blues and put birdsong in my heart.

Speaking of birds, the other morning I saw a blue jay perched upon a tall succulent plant – a cactus of some sort is my non-botanist guess – in my front yard. This made me a smile for three reasons: a dear friend says a blue jay sighting is a visit from a guardian angel; thus, I thought about my friend for a while; and, lastly, until that contemplative moment I had not fully appreciated how lushly filled in and attractive the drought-resistant landscaping we replaced our front lawn with a year ago has now become. I wish you could see it – with your own blue jay sighting included.

Blue Jay photo by Scott Harris

Our front desert garden in turn made me think of another of my friends who, when his own Complaint Department becomes exhausting, likes to say: “Sometimes I just have to walk away and look at a flower.”

His wisdom naturally reminds me of the late golfing legend, Walter Hagen, who similarly and famously advised: “You’re only here for a short visit. Don’t hurry, don’t worry, and be sure to smell the flowers along the way.”

Better yet, don’t just smell the flowers but pick some, too. For example, no matter what your political views are the series of photographs taken last week showing President Joe Biden bending down to pluck a dandelion and then handing it to First Lady Jill surely had to make you smile.

Seeing these photos caused the high-definition digital video in my mind’s eye to instantly flashback all the way into grainy Super 8mm film, for that is how old this memory was of my 5-year-old self picking a fistful of dandelions on a warm summer day and giving them to my mom who, naturally, reacted as if they were two dozen long-stemmed roses.

One more flower-powered smile comes from an Instagram posting I saw the other day reading, unattributed: “My grandpa has Alzheimer’s so he has no idea who my grandma is, but every day for the last three or four months he brings her flowers from their garden and asks her to run away with him and be his wife; and every day she says she already is; and every day the smile my grandpa gets on his face is the most beautiful heartfelt thing I have ever seen.”

Here is another beautiful heartfelt thing I saw recently, again on Instagram, attributed to Ann The Distracted Gardener. “My 8yo in the car today: ‘Do you want me to throw the confetti in my pocket?’

“Me: ‘No not in the car! – why do you have confetti in your pocket?’

“8yo: ‘It’s my emergency confetti. I carry it everywhere in case there is good news.’ ”

60yo Me: Raising kids has been compared to tending a garden and Ann The Distracted Gardener certain has not been too distracted to raise a red rose of a son. Also, I must try to be more like this unhurried 8yo who obviously stops to smell the flowers and is always ready to celebrate each day like it’s New Year’s Eve.

Lastly, the image of that young boy reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fistful of confetti and then throwing it with delight reminds me of something my friend/mentor/hero Wayne Bryan likes to say: “Throw kindness around like it’s confetti.”

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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

Special Delivery for Mother’s Day

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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Special Delivery for

Mother’s Day

The first Mother’s Day gift I remember giving my mom was a bouquet of flowers fashioned from colored tissue paper and pipe cleaners, plus gobs of paste and a bigger glob of love, that we made in first grade.

Mom, naturally, acted as thrilled as if it were a dozen long-stemmed roses because that’s what moms do.

The final Mother’s Day gift I gave my mom, 28 years ago – it is difficult to believe it has been that long – was a bouquet of real flowers. More importantly, I delivered them in person with a hug. She probably would have preferred a single dandelion and a bouquet of hugs.

These bookend reminisces bring to mind a story, perhaps apocryphal, that seems fitting to share on Mother’s Day Eve.

Harry was an extremely successful, and busy, businessman. The Friday before Mother’s Day his secretary called in sick and he realized he had not asked her to order flowers for his mom.

Harry believed in supporting local businesses so instead of going online he took a quick break and walked to a florist shop a few blocks from his office.

The owner began to show off a variety of special arrangements, but Harry was in a hurry. Truth is, he was always in a rush. In the business world, time is money after all. He hastily ordered a dozen long-stemmed red roses to be delivered two days hence on his mom’s doorstep 200 miles away.

“Those are for my mom,” Harry noted, adding: “Give me another dozen of the same, wrapped to go, for my wife.”

Exiting the shop, in a blind rush back to work of course, Harry collided with a young boy standing beside a bicycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” Harry snarled.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the boy. “Um, could you lend me three dollars?”

“Don’t you mean give you three dollars?” Harry acerbically corrected the boy. “You aren’t planning to pay me back. Why do you need three dollars anyway?”

“Today’s my mom’s birthday and I want to buy her a beautiful flower,” the boy explained. “But I don’t have quite enough money.”

Harry’s heart softened, slightly. While reaching for his wallet he asked the boy where he lived.

“About five minutes that way,” replied the boy, pointing down the street.

Harry left his wallet in his back pocket. He had a better idea and plucked one of the roses from the bouquet for his wife – surely she would not even notice the difference between a dozen and 11 – and handed it to the boy.

“Give this beauty to your mom,” Harry offered with a wink.

“Wow! Thanks!” said the boy. “I’m gonna take this to her right now!”

With that the boy hopped on his bike and began to ride off – in the opposite direction of where he had indicated that he lived.

“Hey, son, I thought your house was that way,” Harry said, gesturing.

“It is,” the boy replied. “But the cemetery is this way – my mom died last year.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry said, his voice cracking.

Eleven heartbeats of silence passed, one for each rose in Harry’s hand, before he spoke again. Handing the boy the remainder of the bouquet, he said: “Here, please put these on her grave.”

The boy took the full bouquet of roses and rode off while Harry wheeled around and went back inside the florist shop.

“I need to cancel that out-of-town delivery I just ordered,” Harry said. “Instead, I need you to put together two dozen roses to-go as quickly as possible. I’ve decided to deliver them today personally.”

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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” …

What is a Mom? Book Illustrates Poetically

by Woody

What is a Mom? Book Illustrates Poetically

            With Mother’s Day arriving tomorrow, my 26th without my own mom, the poetic words of Maya Angelou again come to mind: “To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. Or the climbing, falling colors of a rainbow.”

Expand Angelou’s 23-word quote into 62 oversized pages of poems, and rainbow artwork, and you have the newly published book “What is a Woman?” which could instead be titled “What is a Mother?” Indeed, this book was birthed by a high school club/nonprofit organization “Together to Empower” and is there a greater role any mom plays than to empower her children?

Club founder Michelle Qin, a Stanford-bound a senior at Dos Pueblos High who last year was named “1 of America’s Top 10 Youth Volunteers”, recently sent me a copy signed by 40 of its contributing writers and artists. Unsolicited books in my mailbox normally go directly into a box earmarked for The Ventura Friends of the Library, but this one caught my eye – and then captured heart.

“What a book!” is my reaction after perusing “What is a Woman?” From the front cover featuring the vibrant painting titled “Crescendo” by Cheryl Braganza to the back cover with her joyous-and-powerful painting “Women of the World Unite”, the pages between are meant to be viewed and read and savored.

To be sure, the combination of emotional poetry and short essays with amazing artwork makes “What is a Woman?” special. It is like having an art museum’s exclusive exhibit right at your fingertips.

The artwork is captivating: color paintings to black-and-white photos, realism to abstract. Furthermore, the art – and writing, as well – is arranged with deep thought, thus affording a powerful effect. For example, Lea Basile-Lazarus’s “The Silent Voice” showing a white silhouette of a woman with her fist raised in a crowd appears beside Jennifer Casselberry’s vivid portrait titled “Protest” of a solo woman with her arm also lifted high.

Another taste: Photographs of sculptures titled “Lotus” and “Tree” by Francine Kirsch, featuring two woman in yoga poses, appear next to the portrait “Dancer: Strong is the New Pretty” by Kate T. Parker.

Poetry highlights this strength-and-beauty theme on other pages, such as a work from Noël Russel that begins, “I am here because my mother dreamed that I could be” and, after describing an immigrant parent’s difficult life, concludes: “I am here because of a dreamer.”

On the eve of Mother’s Day, the painting “Daughter of August” by Laura Gonzalez on the closing page seems especially poignant. It features, faceless from behind so as to be a universal pairing, a young girl walking hand-in-hand with her mother through a long-grassed field. My interpretation: the girl is being empowered with each step to eventually pursue her dreams beyond the white fence in the distance.

The daughter could as well be a son.

“We are a movement comprised of girls and boys,” Michelle emphasizes, noting there are now club chapters on the east coast and in Vancouver. “Although our main goal is to empower girls, it is equally important to us to emphasize that we all have the power to make a change. After all, our world will only get stronger with girls and boys in the lead, together. That’s why we are called Together to Empower.”

Through the words and paintbrushes, sculptures and camera lenses, eyes and voices of empowered girls in elementary school through women of international fame, this book (available at www.togethertoempower.org) teaches us about true beauty, true strength, true feminism.

“What is a Woman?” answers its own question beautifully as a rainbow.

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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” …

 

Delivering a Mother’s Day message

by Woody

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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Delivering a Mother’s Day message

The first Mother’s Day gift I remember giving my mom was a bouquet of flowers fashioned from colored tissue paper and pipe cleaners that we made in first grade.

I am fairly certain nearly as much messy glue went into it as love, and a handful of dandelions would have been prettier to display, yet Mom, of course, acted as thrilled as if it were a dozen roses because that’s what moms do.1momsday

The final Mother’s Day gift I gave my mom, 24 years ago – it is difficult to believe it has been that long – was a bouquet of real flowers. More importantly, I delivered them in person with a hug. She probably would have preferred a single rose and a bouquet of hugs.

These two reminisces bring to mind a story, perhaps apocryphal, I heard a while ago and seems fitting to share today on Mother’s Day eve.

It was the Friday before Mother’s Day and a successful businessman – let’s call him Harry – decided to order flowers for his mom. Usually he had his secretary or wife do this task, but for some reason he felt motivated to do it himself.

Ordering a bouquet online would have been almost as easy as asking his secretary to take care of it, but Harry believed in supporting local businesses so on his lunch break he walked to a florist shop a few blocks from his office.

The owner began to show Harry a variety of special arrangements, but Harry was in a hurry – he always seemed in a rush; in the business world time is money – so he simply ordered a dozen long-stemmed red roses to be delivered two days hence on his mom’s doorstep 200 miles away.

The premium prices for Mother’s Day flowers, and the surcharge for a Sunday delivery, didn’t make Harry blink. In fact, because he felt bad for being too busy to visit his mom he doubled his original order to two-dozen roses.

Harry wrote down his mom’s address, asked for an extra dozen roses to-go to take home to his wife, and paid with his platinum credit card.

Exiting the florist shop, Harry almost bowled over a young boy who asked: “Excuse me, sir, could you lend me two dollars?”

Harry’s instinct was to acerbically correct the boy and say, “Don’t you mean give you two dollars? You aren’t planning to pay me back.”

But the boy’s sincerity brought out a gentler side in Harry and instead he asked: “Why do you need two dollars?”

“Today’s my mom’s birthday and I want to buy her a beautiful flower, but I don’t quite have enough money,” the boy explained.

Harry suddenly found himself in no hurry, found himself becoming a softy, and while reaching for his wallet asked the boy where he lived.

The boy pointed up the street: “About five minutes that way.”

Harry now had a better idea than handing the boy a couple bucks. He plucked one of the roses from the bouquet for his wife – surely she would not even notice the difference between a dozen and 11 – and handed it to the boy.

“Give this beauty to your mom.”

“Wow! Thank you so much!” the boy said. “I’m going to take this to my mom right now!”

With that the boy got on his bicycle and began to ride off – in the opposite direction of where he had pointed his house was.

“Hey, son, I thought you lived that way,” Harry said.

“I do,” the boy replied. “But the cemetery is this way. My mom died last year.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry said, his voice choking up. He handed the boy the rest of the bouquet and added: “Please put these on her grave.”

The boy took all the flowers and rode away while Harry turned around and went back into the florist shop.

“I need to cancel that out-of-town delivery I just ordered,” Harry said. “Instead, I need you to put together two dozen roses to-go as quickly as possible. I’ve decided to deliver them today personally.”

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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”