Earlier this summer I enjoyed what will probably be my most scenic entry in this year’s power lunch series. During a drive through Capitol Reef’s Cathedral Valley with my longtime neighbors Georgia and Milo in June, we stopped to make some quick sandwiches at a picnic area, where I was able to get off one quick shot at the table before we dove into lunch. This was the second year in a row I’ve been fortunate enough to tag along on one of their legendary off road expeditions into Southern Utah—last year we toured the San Rafael Swell—and it’s been fun to get to know Georgia and Milo better in the process. Growing up across the street from the Paskett’s, I always knew Milo as the guy who was brave enough to referee my church basketball games. They moved into the neighborhood a few years before my parents did, and their sons were a little older—I want to say I remember them riding ATVs in their wraparound yard. Later Milo became Bishop Paskett as I was preparing to serve my mission, and he was one of the first people I remember seeing when I got back from Chicago. Down the road a bit Georgia became my mom’s visiting teaching companion, and it was always reassuring—especially as my dad’s health declined—to know she and Milo were right across the street. In time I discovered that Milo shared my interest in photography, which has now led to a pair of fun road trips. But as much as I’ll remember the beautiful places we’ve visited and photographed, I’ll also value the time spent with Georgia and Milo, and the chance to gain a new perspective on the street where I grew up.
So this week I’m making the newest entry in the “friends who aren’t on social media” sub-category of my Power Lunch project, also known as the “friends I’m jealous of, though their lack of social media presence is a periodic inconvenience” sub-category. (And for anyone expecting a Bountiful Wildfire post, it will be forthcoming...eventually.) Brandon was one of the first guys I met in the early days of my YSA phase, back when I had not just hair, but long hair—if you can believe it—and long before the University 32nd Ward became “Club 32.” We became quick friends after he was assigned as my home teacher, which was good because otherwise I might have been too intimidated to befriend a guy nicknamed Hype who regularly did backflips after bowling strikes. Brandon’s true nature was quickly revealed, however—be sure to ask him about his white VW if you get the chance—and over time we became travel buddies thanks to a pair of Yellowstone trips, we were roommates during 9/11, and once he stopped taking construction-related jobs all over the western United States and returned to Davis County, I got to attend his sealing to his wife Erika (who thankfully IS on social media). These days Brandon is a dad several times over, and though he’s not doing backflips, he’s still the life of the party, still doing construction-related jobs (in Utah), and still an awesome friend. When we first met, I figured our friendship would be brief given the quick turnover nature of the singles ward. I’m very happy to have been proven wrong.
I knew Mike’s work before I knew Mike. Back in my painful pre-teen year’s, at the end of the school year at Centerville Junior High, I’d get a yearbook, and I noticed that the illustrations were always by this guy named “Bohman.” The drawings, which always had a kind of medieval theme as our school mascot was the “Chargers,” had a very consistent style that I admired, especially since back then I was doing a lot of drawing myself. It wasn’t until a few years later that I met Mike in person, when we worked on the front end at Dick’s Market (he was a cashier, and I was the bagger loitering at the end of his checkstand). We became fast friends, thanks to common interests like drawing, girls, and a shared appreciation for oddball humor, and in the years to come the adventures piled up. As teens, they tended to involve a stuffed dummy with a paper mache head named Patsy (Python reference) that we’d strap to the top of my car. As adults, they’d involve packing a full sized couch into his truck bed for a double-date to the Redwood Drive-In, or scoring some amazing fireworks at a bar just over the Wyoming border on the way back from Yellowstone. After Mike got married, the hijinks slowed, especially once he moved his family down to Utah County, but as he’s pursued his career down south we’ve still made time to meet up at some crossroads for lunch to catch up—most recently at Midvale’s Thai Spoon. Like most illustrators, Mike evolved into digital platforms, but if you check out his stuff (www.mikebohman.com), it still has that consistent quality and style that I’ve always admired. I’ve always been a little jealous of friends who were able to stake out their career path early, and Mike was always one of those guys.
