With my 50th birthday just weeks away, and everyone giddy with excitement or drunk on the expectations of their gift to me, I bring you the foundation of my coming into existence. My forefathers…as it were…were simple folks. As witness below, they seemed very adept at catching critters then relieving them of their fur, involuntarily I’m sure.
My great-great granddaddy, Festus Ripley, was the first, and only… it should be noted, mountain man in Illinois…a plains state. Undeterred by the lack of mountains he usually traversed the cliffs surrounding the mighty Mississippi River. A handsome fellow, he lived to the ripe old age of 28 survived by his wife Phyllis and their 14 children and 5 grandchildren.
Now fast forward to 1964. Here’s a photo of my parents and their two sons, Dan and Brian. Everything looks all nice and cozy…not much going on to disrupt the household.
Add another year and VIOLA!! Boredom is sinking in….
My mother giving my dad that “come hither” look and nine months later…
BAM!! Here I am!! (I look none too happy but my brother Brian is like “Whew!! I’m not the lowest rung on the ladder anymore!!”
In my first year I was really, really into physical fitness. Just look at the form on this photo of me doing push-ups. I’m incredible!!
No baby blog is complete without a bathtub shot. Feast your eyes ladies!! (to be totally fair….the bath water that night was tepid at best)
So that first year was…pretty uneventful for me. I didn’t date anyone seriously nor did I write much of anything down. I just chilled with the fam. I’ll have my associates dig into the Ripley Archives and find something from my formative years later on. Until then…peace to you.