It all started when a little stick read a plus sign. A little stick that changed the lives of James and Cathy Gibbson. There was shock and surprised that slowly settled into excitement and anxiousness. They were pregnant. Fuck, they were pregnant. It took nine months to bake the baby boy and when he came out his parents were convinced that nine months was too long, he came out looking like a linebacker, long and wide. It was May 29th, a holiday future holiday some might say.

Chris was only the first of three and by the second child he was already the age of 5. A rambunctious little boy who never had a calm down, turn off, sleep button. By the third child he was 7 and no longer believed that stork brought babies because he had sent a letter asking the stork to cut it out after the first time. Raised of Catholic faith all three Gibbson children were brought up to trust in their faith above anything else.

As the years passed Chris found himself falling in and out of hobbies and loves. Never very good at sports he picked up a guitar and learned to play. It didn’t take long before he was attending open mic nights, singing cover songs of the latest country and pop/rock tunes. Instead of playing on a computer he loved the outdoors and would have rather been in a tent than his own bed.

Graduation from high school came quickly and with the plans to go to college in place Chris was all but packed when his father announced he was diagnosed with lung cancer and was going to be starting treatment. Plans change just as quickly as they are made and Chris decided to stay in Denver and fall into the family business of construction.

Now twenty-seven years old he is one of the foremen of his father’s construction business. An obsessive church goer. Frequent open mic night guest and a lover of all things possibly reckless and dangerous.