My Uncle Rip died a few years ago. He was a fine
gentleman, a farmer, and a leader in the church and the
community. His name was really Basil Frank which I always thought was terrible. I always
wondered how he got his name, Rip.
Actually my father, his older brother, gave him
that name about the time he was 6 years old. All the boys
around the farm were daring each other to ride the Brahma bull they
had in the pen. Young Basil climbed up on the fence and jumped
down on that bull's bare back. The ride didn't last very long
and when he left that bull he left some of his pants on the bull's
horn. Since they were the only pants he owned his Mama had to sew up
the "rip" so he could go to school and church. For
the rest of his life that name stuck and he was Rip.
This story makes you reflect on how far we have
come in 80 years or so. How many kids today have only one pair
of pants? How many would jump down on a big Brahma bull?
Heck, how many kids even go outside anymore? Are they better
off than 80 years ago? Only time will tell. Let's
hope they have some character building experiences along the way.
My daddy's bull fighting experience