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