Much of the story of Ian’s life is best told by Ian himself, through the pictures that follow in this brief photobiography. The voice of the accompanying narrative is mine; however, Marcia is at my side and we share the honor of celebrating his life through our memories, and the memories of others. These stories require no embellishment; as anyone who knew Ian well can attest, his personality was larger than life, and wherever he was, a story soon followed. I’m sure it’s still that way today.
After what seemed like an eternity of nervous anticipation, Ian Merritt Boswell was born in Indianapolis, Indiana, on September 18, 1983. Ian is our only child, and at the time of his birth, Marcia and I lived in Greencastle, Indiana. I was the Director of Putnam County Operation Life Ambulance Service, and Marcia worked as an ER Technician at Putnam County Hospital.
Ian’s life most assuredly began in Florida, the state he would someday come to love. Not that he was born there—he wasn’t—but all indications are that he was conceived there. The short week in late November was the first of many family vacations to Florida; only this time, Ian was still only the hope and promise of a yet unfulfilled dream. A dream Marcia and I shared; the manifestation of our love and our commitment to one another.
When Ian’s name was chosen, Marcia and I wanted to pick something unique, and also a name which would honor his heritage. Anticipating that the unborn baby was a boy, little thought was given to a girl’s name. Boy’s names, on the other hand, were carefully considered. My paternal great-great-great-grandfather’s name was John, as was Marcia’s paternal grandfather. Ian is a Scottish form of John. Marcia’s grandfather’s family emigrated from Wales; the Boswells are presumed to have emigrated from Scotland; so Ian was a good fit. Merritt was chosen for a middle name because it is Marcia’s maiden name.
lan began his earthly life as a fighter, albeit somewhat late. Marcia and I were ready, the nursery was ready, but he was not. He was positioned “sunny-side up,” delaying progression of labor until nearly 40 weeks! After multiple episodes of non- progressive labor, resulting in three frustrating trips to the local small town hospital OB department (each with failed labor induction), we, soon-to-be parents said enough is enough, and insisted upon a transfer to the city. Several hours later, following an Operation Life ambulance ride with attending friends, Ian was born at Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis; the same hospital where Marcia was born some twenty-four years before, and where Marcia and I would both later work.
Ian’s delivery was difficult, requiring forceps assistance, and the look on his face told the story; he was obviously not happy with the situation. Marcia and I, however; were both relieved and ecstatic. At 6:41 p.m., the “Boswells” became a family. At 7 lbs 4 ½ oz, he was a beautiful baby, born with a full head of long, black hair, which soon turned brown.
Several hours later, after Ian received a clean bill of health from Dr. Leland, his new pediatrician, and after calling the new grandparents and giving them the good news, I headed back home for a little rest, all the while feeling the full weight of the responsibility of fatherhood on my shoulders. Meanwhile, Marcia marveled at her new bundle of joy, and even though he was but a few hours old, Ian already had her wrapped around his little finger.