Mike Schoonover, 2007
Born: 9/22/65
Birth place: Pueblo, CO
High School: Stratford, TX
Current Home: Folsom, NM
Email: mike@folsomvillage.com
Occupation: Systems Engineer,
Village of Folsom Assistant Clerk
Hobbies:
Writing, Music, Hiking, Running, Tai Chi
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Mike
(a lifestyle, an experience, a band, and a dog blog)
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When I was about twenty-three, I bought a VCR for some three
hundred bucks. It was advertised on a flyer that came with my Shell Oil
bill, which was the first credit card I ever owned. A few days later I was
talking with a co-worker, whose name was Brent Fish if that matters, about a
skiing trip he was preparing for. I ridiculed him for wasting his money on
intangibles, suggesting instead that he spend his money on something
material, like say, a VCR.
He replied that he would have the memory of his trip forever, long after my
VCR was in the dump. His words passed right through my materialistic little
brain like a summer breeze through a child's fingers. Years later, I must
ask, where is that overpriced VCR? Although I am sure that young Mr. Fish
was merely repeating words heard from someone older and wiser than he, those
words ring so true today.
I remember first love, first kiss, last kiss, weddings, divorces, births,
deaths. I remember my sons' first smile, first crawl, first step, first "I
Love You", first ride without training wheels, first ride to school. I
remember when things went wrong - oh so wrong. I remember standing in the
dark in downtown Houston, realizing that not one other person knew where I
was, what I was doing, how I felt, what I was thinking. I remember running
so many nights at three in the morning.
I remember the lights of San Antonio from the tower, the riverwalk, the park
in New Braunfels, the track in Odessa. I remember two nights on San Padre,
many nights on Galveston - watching seagulls swarm above and homeless people
swarm below. I remember Pittsburgh, Nashville, Youngstown, Lorraine,
Cleveland, Myrtle Beach, Tampa Bay, Santa Fe, Denver, New Orleans, Dallas,
El Paso, Odessa, Midland, Lubbock, Amarillo, Caymen Islands, Cozumel,
Aberdeen, London, Beijing, Da Qing, Dong Ying, Har Bin - I remember them
all.
I remember running with the wind, against the wind, across the wind. I've
seen the mountains and the oceans. I've looked to the North Sea from the
castle ruins of Scotland, I've walked the Great Wall of China, and explored
the Forbidden City. I've flown a helicopter, taken a seat in a glider,
driven tractors, motorcycles, and more cars than I can name. I sat in Sun
Devil stadium and watched Super Bowl XXX with my father beneath the Arizona
sky.
I remember being so in love that I could not breathe, and so alone that I
could not believe. I remember loves that almost were - and I remember
walking away. I remember words spoken that should not have been, words not
spoken that should have been. And I remember the consequences of each.
I would trade all the material things I've owned for just one more memory. I
can only hope that it would be a good one. And I hope that you are there.
Tips for Tall Handsome Guys
Just write some crap and smile in your picture. Nobody gives a shit what you
write, you're gonna get all the friends you want.
Tips for Chicks
Guys are visual creatures so display your most flattering picture. Write
about your day, your job, your cat, how lonely you are. Avoid talking about
your old boyfriends, guys who are your best friends (even if they are gay),
and your best memories involving men. Suicidal tendencies, cutting, and
commitment issues are definite no-no's, but are useful later for chasing off
those pesky fugly guys who have ceased to be funny and just can't seem to
take a hint.
Tips for Short, Fugly Guys
1. Be funny. All the time. Nothing else works. Period. Except money.
2. Be self deprecating - for some reason it amuses people. And it throws
women off guard because it hides the fact that you are trying to get into
their pants.
3. If you are going to write sad, poignant, or sappy stuff, make it funny.
See rule #1.
4. Give your funny stuff "Public" status so everyone can see it. Set the
date on your best entries to the future so that they always appear on your
profile page and are the first ones seen and read.
5. Make your poignant and sappy stuff "Friends" status.
6. Make your sad and self pity stuff "Preferred" status. After a while, you
can bestow this prized status upon your favorite chicks. Friend chicks will
become friendlier. Potential lovers will feel very touched that you let them
view your "sensitive" side. Sometimes it is the final nudge required to make
their pants fall off. Use this status with caution lest you wake up some
morning next to a chick who really isn't "your type".
7. Funny can work in bars, but never works in nightclubs. The humor has to
be conversational - physical comedy makes you look like a court jester.
Court jesters never get laid. Hang around a bar long enough and you can bed
every bar fly in the place. Of course, you will be sleeping with bar flies,
but fugly guys can't be choosy guys.
8. Never, ever, ever, stop being funny - even after you get married. Sad,
grumpy, short, fugly guys are pathetic and get replaced by tall, handsome
guys faster than you can say "Did you hear the one about the chicken?".
9. If she stops laughing, test your humor on others. If they laugh, she's
broken and you can't fix her. God knows I've tried. Dump her fast. If they
don't laugh, you're broken - resume humor immediately. See rule #8.
10. Always keep them laughing. When women laugh, their eyeballs jiggle and
they can't focus on you well enough to realize just how fucking ugly you
really are. The harder they are laughing, the better you look.
When my son was about two years old, we made him a red cape
like Superman's. He stood on the bed, reached his hands for the sky and
executed a little jump. His brow furrowed, and he jumped again.
He looked at me questioningly and asked why he wasn't flying "up there". It
took a second for it to sink in that he fully expected to fly with his new
cape. I was overtaken at once by both sadness and laughter. All I could do
was hold him close and tell him that it takes a special kind of cape for
flying.
The concept that one might could do anything, including fly, if one truly
believed it to be possible has been discussed throughout the ages. I, for
one, know that it simply is not true.
, age 2
and with Fresh Hair Cuts
December, 2005
Picture of our Christmas tree from outside the front of the house. By the way, cheap digital cameras really suck for night time pictures. And no, the tree isn't leaning - the house is.
Well, the tree was delivered today and it is truly an
interesting tree. Some of the local boys were selling trees cut from their
fathers' land for $25 each, and since they offered to deliver I couldn't
resist. This seemed to be an especially good deal since I can't fit a tree
into my car. I will say this, the tree makes up for its lack of filling with
sheer girth.
From the cutting to the decoration, this turned out to be an all male
project. Ok, maybe that wasn't such a good thing. We got 'er done with a
minimum of fuss and ample teamwork, which is always a win in my household!
For those of you dying to know, we used 300 lights, 12 red crystal
ornaments, 12 gold crystal ornaments, 12 blue crystal ornaments, 60 feet of
silver garland, four packages of icicles, 3 or 4 knick-knack ornaments, and
one really gaudy tree topping star. Things were looking pretty grim until we
got to the icicles. Boy, you can sure hide a tree with that stuff!
I'm eighty-seven and one-half percent confident that it will look pretty
good in the dark. When it comes to Christmas trees, story telling, and
kissing your cousin, darkness will always be our friend.
...when you don't even understand what it means? Perfectly, of course.
Most large cities in the world have one or more hotels which
serve the foreign traveler. In Beijing, one of those is the Hotel Lido, the
name of which is destined to be forever mispronounced. To some it is most
definitely the Lee-doo, to others it will always be the Lee-doh. It makes
not a wit of difference.
It is common to stay at the Lido twice on your trip to China: the first time
upon arrival into the country and the second time on return from your trip
inland. Thus there are two distinct groups of travelers roaming the halls.
The first is the new arrivals: laughing, giggling, chatting, full of
anticipation and excitement. The second consists of those at the end of
their journey: much more quiet, reserved, contemplative.
Upon arriving in country, one does not notice so much the magic of the
hotel. It is only when passing through on one's way back home does the faint
aroma of anticipation and excitement make its delicate scent known. It is
beaten, pounded, and baked into the very walls. It has the taste of every
continent and every dream, and it coats every traveler who passes near.
I arrived with a friend back at the Lido after my first three month trip
into China. It had been a bitter sweet journey, with much accomplished but
almost as much failed. We had seen so much and learned even more, laughter
as well as tears. The sadness of ending our journey was tempered by the
inviting warmth of the Lido and its legions of happy travelers.
We went to the Hard Rock Cafe to grab a bite to eat the evening we arrived.
As we were purchasing souvenirs, we noticed the workers picking up the
tables and the chairs in preparation for "disco". The crowd swelled,
populated with travelers from every country. An incredible cover band from
the Phillipines began to crank out some of the best dance hits one could
think of. It was the kind of music that sets your feet in motion - the kind
that would still be played in the States if we weren't so damned "cool".
Seizing the moment, my friend and I grabbed a seat and a coca-cola at the
bar. It was done in the nick of time, for the joint became packed in a
hurry. As neither my friend or I drank alcohol, we settled in for a spell to
toss back a few sodas and watch the action. Alas, passivity was not to be
the order of the day.
You've all seen it. You've probably done it. It's the "Wanna Dance". You
really don't want to dance - you're too old, too cool, too something. But
your body has other ideas, and pretty soon a tapping foot leads to a nodding
head. Shortly thereafter, enough body parts are moving that remaining seated
is not really plausible. You can pretend that you're not dancing, but only
one person is being fooled.
The Wanna Dance sometimes attracts a partner. And in the Hard Rock Cafe
Beijing it will always attract a partner. Before you could say "Hello, Kitty
Cat", my friend and I had company. My friend's new partner was a bit
worldly, her face worn and weary. Mine was younger and fresher, a tiny thing
with a very distinctive look - perhaps from the Mongolian province. I am not
a particularly large person, and she was half my size.
With our new partners we danced every song, pausing only to toss back a
soda. Soon, my new lady friend was sitting in my lap. After I removed her
hand from my crotch for the third time, I realized that this was a special
girl. Yes indeed, this girl had already fallen in love with my wallet. My
friend and I laughed at each other knowingly, for this was not to be a time
for ladies of the night. Feeling somewhat guilty, I tried to explain to the
girl that I would be sleeping alone that night. She simply smiled and
nodded, either not understanding or not believing.
At about two in the morning, it was with deep regret that we planned our
escape. My friend and I quietly gathered our bags, and as one said good
night to our dance partners. Ignoring their pleas, we turned and sliced our
way through the crowd, exploding out the front door and into a waiting cab
like commandos on a mission. As we drove away, I glimpsed the ladies
standing dejectedly on the steps. Ah, love is fleeting.
Back in my room at the Lido, I turned on the tube and checked out the
fridge. Overseas, most hotels stock the fridge with chocolates, usually
those familiar to Americans. They can be rather hard to resist, and you can
be assured that they will be charged to your bill. I have only seen this
once in the States, which just goes to show you that we aren't all that
smart. I was delighted to find a Kit Kat bar which, like all chocolates made
overseas, had a slightly darker taste than that to which I am accustomed.
After finishing the chocolate, I prepared the pillows for the night. Hotel
beds and I have rarely been the best of friends. All totaled, I have spent a
year's worth of nights trying to find comfort in their cold embrace. They
never seem to have a warmth of their own and try so desperately to purloin
any that might be surrendered by the weary traveler.
This bed was no different, but it mattered little that night. My sadness
from a day now finished and never to be relived was perfectly, absolutely
balanced by the anticipation of a visit to the Great Wall on the following
morn. Rarely is such equilibrium realized in the lucid world. I slept a
dreamless sleep, but of what use are dreams on a night like that?
My life is like a piece of raisin bread. Lots of boring
space interrupted by some tasty little morsels. This was written for my
future lover, whomever that might be. Here's hoping!
Here are the raisins (nobody cares about the bread):
I write and eat with my left hand. My right is my strength hand. I throw and
rope with my right. I shoot a rifle left handed, a pistol with my right, but
can use my left if necessary. I jab with my left, try to take your head off
with my right.
I have two pistols and one rifle. I have not fired a shot in over ten years.
I think a pistol is the most beautiful machine ever made by man.
Updated: I took the boys to the rifle range for some plinking in 2007.
I have shot at things I shouldn't have. I have killed things I shouldn't
have. I am much more thoughtful now.
I have had a gun pointed at me as I made a halfhearted attempt to run a man
down in a car. He was not a good man. His night went very badly as he
dropped the stolen money and beer as he made his escape.
I have prevented a robbery and probable rape by being some place I normally
wouldn't have been at that time.
If I have to do CPR on you, you will probably die. Thus I will tell you now
that I will miss you when you are gone if it comes down to that.
I have never drank alcohol, except for a swallow of warm beer during a game
in which we were running around looking for "treasure" after having eaten a
full meal. I didn't know that it was beer. I was beaten at the game because
the winner stopped to puke and thus was able to outrun me.
I have never used tobacco products.
Almost everything I knew about women came from Cosmopolitan Magazine. Boy,
did I ever receive a wakeup call. Who writes that shit, anyway?
I have seduced women whom I thought could not be seduced. I don't make that
mistake any more.
I have broken hearts so badly that I do not deserve to live. I don't want to
ever do that again.
I was married for a year at twenty-one. I was married for eight and a half
years at thirty-one. I had a one year relationship between the two. Other
than those three, no other relationship has lasted more than a few days.
Well, except for "Yay!", but that's a whole other story.
I have lived in 47 different places in 40 years. Counting only times when
that was my only place to live. Once was in my car for a month.
I have been to China twice, three months each time. I have been to Scotland
for ten days, England for seven, Canada for four, Mexico for half a day.
I took helicopter pilot's lessons right up until the solo flight when I as
thirty-five.
I considered joining the National Guard before my 40th birthday - the new
maximum age limit. My knees and my back probably wouldn't have made it
through boot camp. I wanted to go to Iraq. I am VERY patriotic, but
understand the negative view the rest of the world has of us. I also believe
that it must be that way.
I sleep with a pillow to fill the space left empty.
Even with all the embarrassing things I have posted in my blog and told
people in emails, there are still things which I may never tell.
I have no discernible preferences for most physical traits in a woman such
as hair color, eye color, height, etc... I do, however dislike really short
hair on a woman. I like everything as natural as possible. Love the one
you're with.
I don't like liver or any other organ unless they are nicely packaged in
bologna or wieners. I have eaten calf fries (Rocky Mountain Oysters), but
was not impressed enough to ever seek them out.
My favorite drink in all the world is chocolate milk. My favorite food is
barbecued brisket and baby back ribs. My favorite deserts are chocolate cake
with chocolate icing, German Chocolate cake, and fresh chocolate chip
cookies still warm from the oven. I like Ruffles chips with sour cream and
onion dip.
Sex is great. It's what happens in between that really floats my boat.
My favorite movie is Sixth Sense. I admit that I was one of those who didn't
see it coming, and am very glad for it.
My favorite song is Luckenbach, Texas.
My favorite date is dinner at a restaurant.
I do not handle it well when you scream at me. I find it so very hard to
hold you at that time. I'm sorry. This applies to lovers, not buddies. I can
hold buddies any time.
I leave the toilet seat up. I like the toilet paper to unroll toward me over
the top.
I think a woman is beautiful in the shower.
I have a foot fetish. It's not funny when you touch me with them and expect
me not to get excited.
My greatest fear is losing my children. My second greatest fear is losing
you. My third greatest fear is being executed for a crime I did not commit.
Unless you committed it.
This is shocking, but I CAN love someone as much as my children. Just as you
cannot test the properties of a subatomic particle, you cannot test this
love. If you must check to see if it is there, the very act will destroy it.
I don't want to die. But I want less to live forever.
Redacted due to inappropriate content.
My oldest son had the most perfect little feet I have ever
seen when he was about two years old. I would just marvel at them. He now
has little boy feet, but locked in my memory for what I hope is forever are
those ten little toes.
He loved for me to read to him. We had recently received as gifts two copies
of the same book. One night he brought that book for me to read on the
couch. He sat beside me, his feet not reaching the edge of the couch, and
began to wiggle his toes in anticipation.
I began to read. By the third page, I knew how the book was going to end. I
stopped and stared at the wiggling toes. I struggled to read. He looked up
at me, still wiggling his toes, and asked me to continue the story. I closed
the book and told him I couldn't finish. We read another book instead.
Five years have passed and I still have not finished the first book to this
day. That book was "Always and Forever". Where has gone that cold hearted
boy I used to be?
When I am old, I will buy that book for my son to read to his son. If I have
done my job right, he won't make it past page three.
and in the Power Wheels Jeep
October 2005
This is outside of Columbian elementary school on his first day of second grade. 's mother took him to school that day so I don't have a picture of his first day.
Today is the day I had scheduled to whup some ass. Those to be ass whupped
must meet the following criteria:
they must be shorter than me
they must be weaker than me
they must not know Karate, Hitachi, Kawasaki, Suzuki or any other shit
After all, discretion is the better part of valor.
Fortunately for all concerned, no one met the above listed criteria today.
But watch out for the next whup ass day - somebody is going DOWN!
Didja ever see two really big, tough guys duking it out in a nightclub? Me
neither. It's always some big dude kicking the shit out of some little guy.
And if the little guy doesn't fight, he's a chicken. Who dreamed up that
shit?
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