Ricky Taylor was born on January 14th, 1961 in Alexandria, Virginia. He was raised by Ella Mae and Johnny Taylor in Konnarock, Virginia. If you haven't heard of Konnarock and are wondering what its like- picture the 1960s in rural Virginia. Standing on your front porch and being able to look out for miles in each direction without even seeing your neighbor, let alone a passing car. But when they did pass, you always waved- because that was your family or a friend and it was one community.

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Ricky was top of his class (kind of) at Marion Senior High School in Marion, Virginia. Although Ricky didn't have the best memories of school, he always reminisced about the one hour bus ride down the mountain, getting off the bus at school, turning towards the woods, and hiking back home for seven hours just to meet the bus dropping off his classmates back in Konnarock.

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Ricky shared memories routinely of times with his family, his many cousins, and farm life. He shared of witnessing his grandmother have to stick her arm down their cows throat in order to pull out an apple the cow was choking on. He shared that memory so his kids knew what a different life he lived years before growing up in rural Southwestern Virginia.

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Ricky talked of his childhood with his brother Bobby. He spoke of his times in Springfield, Virginia at his mother Neva & Rays house. One memory he shared was how while Neva was at work, Ray would force the kids outside to play- and wouldn't let them inside to watch cartoons all day. But when Neva would come home, Ray would pull the mattress off the bed and wrestle with Ricky and Bobby for hours in the living room.

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He talked about hunting, hiking to White Top, his favorite fishing holes. He talked of cars that he owned, that he rebuilt, that he lost like they were family. Years later, in the pouring cold rain, Ricky took his sons Travis and JR down the side of Iron Mountain where he had fished as a young man.