Keary was born to Richard (Dick) and Gwenn Ryan in Wausau, Wisconsin on April 21st, 1959. He was their 2nd son after Patrick, born in 1957. They spent their early lives with family and friends in Wausau, Wauwatosa, and Appleton. A younger brother Chris and a sister Lynda eventually filled out the family.

Early life was school, camping around Wisconsin, swimming, and playing sandlot football imitating our favorite Green Bay Packers of the 1960s. Keary and Pat played a lot of football and a famous story was that Keary actually broke his leg playing football when he was in 2nd grade, but kept playing for a while before heading to the hospital - where he was fitted with a full leg cast.

The Ryan family cherished swimming, and trips were often planned to visit rivers, lakes and local pools. Frequent trips to Wausau to visit their grandparents meant a trip to the local swimming pool down by the river. "We would swim in that cold pool for as long as we could, and then we would both lay down on the concrete desk - which had been heated by the sun to "warm up" as the air was often in the 50s or 60s. It was the only way to warm up. Swimming with Keary became a lifelong constant, and we shared so many water-related adverntures over the years", explained Pat, his brother.

We were also both involved in the Cub Scouts, and Boy Scouts - which meant we learned how to hike and camp in the Wisconsin woods. Back then, some of the scout masters were of indian descent, and they taught us about what plants we could eat, which ones to stay away from, how to fish, and how to find and catch newts, snakes and other creatures.

We also learned to swim at the YMCA. Saturday mornings we were dropped off for several hours to go through a cycle of archery, basketball, craft-making, and then finally swimming. Starting out as "Guppies", we worked our way up the ladder of swim ranks so when we went to the summer camp - we could venture outside of the rookie area. When our parents would pick up every Saturday, our eyes would be blood-shot from looking under water in the highly chlorinated pools of the Appleton YMCA downtown. Every summer, we would pack up our special metal camp trunks, and we would be driven up north to the YMCA camp for a week or two of non-stop activities including crafts, shooting 22 cal. rifles, archery, firebuilding, swiming, canoeing, sailing, diving, and team games like fighting over watermelons covered with vaseline in the lake, and trying to sneak through the woods playing "Post Office" to deliver stamps to our HQs before the camp counselors would catch up. We learned how to really navigate the woods - even at nights, although the racoon fights and bears never made it comfortable.

Our later childhood years were living in Janesville, along a large valley filled with long grass, game trails, animal bones and unlimited adventures as kids. During the fall, we would use the long cattail reeds to build forts in the dry creekbeds, or have fake grenade fights using the nearby corn fields as battlefields (we would shuck a cob, and peel off half the corn so it looked like a Nazi grenade and then store them up for when the other side attacked. We would then launch barrage of corn cobs towards any noise coming towards us in the 6 - 8 foot tall fields of corn stalks). I am sure the farmers had us up on a wanted poster somewhere.

In 1972, our father was transferred to a big city - Houston, Texas and the family pulled up our Wisconsin roots and headed south.

Part of the deal was we were going to have a pool in the backyard - which we soon realized is needed due to the hot, humid summers that we never got used to. But Texas had an ocean, and we loved water - so trips to the beach were the one of the highlights of our summers. But probably the biggest draw for us was a forest/wilderness that we found over a nearby Dam - called Turkey Creek. About a mile or two from our sub-division was a wilderness populated with all kinds of critters that we had never seen including a wide variety of poisionous and non-poisonous snakes. Here we really honed our Wisconsin skills for catching snakes, including the bad tempered Cottonmouth, rattlesnakes, and the copperheads. Keary even got bit by a copperhead once - only to be told by the doctor that about 50% of the copperhead bites are "dry" - and he was one of the lucky ones. But the 2 fang marks left life long scars between his two fingers and a great story when one is needed.

As I was in high school and turning my attention to other distractions, Keary and our 10 year old poodle, Simon, kept up the wilderness adventures without me and Keary and neighbor kids built up some great snake collections. They even got to a point where they were selling "blue racers" and gentle "hog noses" to a local pet store for a profit.

To some extent, Keary and I were odd ducks - small town Yankees from Wisconsin in a big city that was divided into clear-cut clans in the 1970s: Cowboys, Jocks, Nerds, and Hippies. As the hippies were the nicest and most welcoming, we started hanging out with them as we progressed through high-school - but not without creating headaches and clashes with our parents. Keary and I often kidded our younger brother Chris and sister Lynda that we had broken all the rules so they would like angels compared to their older brothers. 

I joined the Navy in 1977 - just when Keary was graduating and our paths didn't cross much for the next 4 years. But by 1983, I returned and Keary and I got to see each other on a regular basis - as I was going to college in San Marcos, Texas and he was living in Austin - with his first wife Cathy. When we got together, we didn't have much money, so we often just ate, drank some cheap liqour and played cribbage. Unless of course, we scheduled time to float down the clear but cold Guadalupe River on an inner tube. We would often stop at railroad bridges over the river and Keary would taunt me into jumping (I'm not crazy about heights, but he was fearless) from the trestles that were often 15 - 25' up. It was scary to jump into water you could not see the bottom of because the seaweed was 5 feet tall at the bottom. And when you went down into to all those weeds, it was a little dark until you could claw your way to the surface and scream to the next in line to "Jump!!!".

Our parents had moved out to California in the mid-1980s. Chris and Lynda still lived at home and Keary and I eventually decided to move to California too. I moved in 1987 I think, and I can't remember if Keary was already there - or if he came soon thereafter. 

At this time, he had divorced and remarried his 2nd wife - also named Cathy. She had 2 sons from a previous relationship. They lived in Rosemead I think, which is near Pasadena and Monrovia (where we moved). By now, Keary had a lot of experience not only hiking, but also doing some climbing as the Sierra Madres were directly east and above us every day - towering up to 5,000 - 7,500 feet. 

Keary would often take his kids hiking up the various canyons that often featured waterfalls, and I became aware of just how daring Keary could be. He had no qualms taking a trail high on a cliff with only 6 - 12" of foot space and I remember having to stop a few hikes as it was just getting to "hairy" for me. He would really try to push me to keep going, but I had already been rescued once and I didn't want it to happen again.

As we explored California, we both came across Yosemite - and were immediately in love with the most spectacular place on earth. But hiking with Keary was always a little scary because he had no fear of heights, and in a place like Yosemite - that can mean really, really high places. One time we went up to Glacier point to shoot evening photos. Against our objections, Keary crawled over the railings and walked out one of the famous flat boulders that overhang the Yosemite valley - probably 2,000 - 3,000 feet straight down. He would casually walk to the edge, look down for a while, and then sit with his legs dangling for 5 - 10 minutes. Eventually the commotion and attention of the tourists became too much and he would come back within the railings - but I couldn't even watch when he was near a cliff. 

As a commercial electrician, Keary made good money - especially when he was part of a union. But one unfortunate thing happened one day - when he fell down an elevator shaft from the 3rd floor that was under construction and somehow lived. From that day on though - he had back problems and aches and pains. And after that, his rock climbing days as a limber outdoorsman slowed down a lot.

Artist

by Patrick Ryan

Not everyone knew, but Keary was a prolific artist, using oil pastels and colored pencils as his mediums of choice. We are working to document and archive his entire collection of drawing (over 100) to share on the internet later this spring. In the meantime, here is one example of his artwork, many of which feature historical sites in and around Wausau, Wisconsin. Other examples are posted in the Gallery.  

https://www.forevermissed.com/keary-keith-ryan/gallery/photos

Right before he moved back to Wisconsin, I had asked Keary to join me on a photography trip to Yosemite and he agreed. It was slate summer/fall and not too cold, so we elected to stay in the Camp Tent in Curry Village. These are tents on platforms with 2 double beds and a light bulb - not much else. Due to the many bears in Yosemite, you have to put all of your food and any flavored products like gum into bear boxes prior to retiring in your tent each night. 

One morning, our plan was to start out well before sunrise to get to Mirror Lake (back when it existed) to shoot sunrise photos. As it was a 1 - 2 mile trek from the nearest parking lot, we decided to leave about 4:30am and drive to the nearest parking spot from there. That morning we got up and it seemed like we were the only people up in the entire Yosemite valley. Eerily quiet pitch black (there were no lights in the lot) and cold. As we walked out to the parking lot and loaded my pickup truck with photography gear - we noticed that there was one other person loading their vehicle on the far side of the lot. So after we were ready to go, I drove down the parking lot and rolled down the window to see if that person was photographer. As we got closer, we could see they were working in the back of their station wagon. I idled up on Keary's side of the truck and just as we pulled up next to the person, a very large brown bear reared up from the back of the vehicle and turned and looked directly into Keary's eyes - seemingly asking us "What Do You Want" - with pancake mix or flour all over his muzzle. Keary looked over to me with a look I cannot never forget and said, "Are you going to roll up the window or move forward - that isn't a photographer, that's a Grizzly Bear!!!. So I quickly pulled forward and we both exclaimed we had never seen a bear that big before. It was huge and when standing he was taller than Keary sitting in my Ford F-150.

As we are parked at the nearby Mirror Lake parking area, we began to figure out that the only way out of Yosemite canyon for that big bear, was going to be on the same trail we were heading out on. And it was still pitch black, as dawn was still an hour away. All morning every sound would cause us to freeze to see if we could hear something like a big bear coming towards up - but luckily it never happened. We did have a large herd of Elk come right around us when we were at the lake. And later that day, we learned from the ranger that there is no Grizzly bears in Yosemite - only large Black Bears - but they turn very light brown in the late summer so they look like Grizzlies.