Preston G. Simpson, personification of
The Alarmist and a dear friend, died at his home on October 6, 2005. He was 29.
Preston was the person to call if the world were ending. He was ready for any disaster. When we were closest, some years ago, he was never far from: a handkerchief, a knife, a lighter, pain medication, highway flares, and a baseball bat. Just in case. Later he abandoned the physical trappings of preparedness, but he never stopped being the go-to guy for crises large and small, physical and personal.
He studied the worst of history and kept his sense of humor. He gave blood regularly. He looked good in a hat. He was a true friend and an amazing person, and to know that he is gone from the world is almost intolerable.