Simpson's Rockwell

Introducing "Rockwell"

We call him "Rocky"

Born August 8, 2007 ... He became ours on September 22, 2007

It is a small town

This morning we were awakened to the sound of sirens. There were police and fire trucks screeching their way around us. Now, we do live 2 blocks from the police station and just over 2 blocks from a fire station, so the sirens are not alarming. It didn't necessarily mean there was a fire in our neighborhood.

However, as we got moving about, we noticed a smell of smoke in the air. The fire was close. the smoke was hovering close to the ground because of the cool morning temps. We knew it was not far away. As I left for work, I went out the back and down to main street. Looking right, I could see about two blocks down a mass of flashing lights. The Police had the street blocked. Ambulances were scattered about. There are apartments in that area. I figured one had turned on some heat because of the low temps (50's) and started a fire. I hoped everyone was OK.

My day progressed. As I usually do as I drive home, I called Tammy. I asked her if she had heard of any news on the morning fire. Well, she had. That was when the humor of the situation started.

What was on fire, down the street, early in the morning, was the FIRE STATION. Yes, the only fire station located within the city limits was burning. There are 6 fire stations located in Montgomery County, but to my knowledge this is the only one within the city limits. No one was hurt in the blaze.

Yes, it is a small town.

Remain or Become

Someone I love was the victim in a crime involving violence. This is for that someone ...

Remain a victim
Or become a victor

Victims live in fear
Victors live in victory

Victims cower in silence
Victors speak out in empowerment

Victims draw away from others
Victors draw others with their strength

Victims live
Victors give

Victims hide
Victors reside

In the victim, the act becomes a whirlpool,
pulling everything down with it,
even the good that was before and comes after

In the victor, the act becomes a stepping-stone,
leading to the next pinnacle in their lives.

Victims are powerless to rise
Victors refuse to stay down

Victim’s lives are reduced to the level of the least act
Victors make the act, the least thing in their lives

Victims believe in the strength of others
Victors find that strength within themselves

Victims will find a way to turn every victory into a defeat
Victors will turn defeats into steps toward victory

Victim can never separate failing in this one act, from being a failure
Victors fully understand that failure is a momentary event and not a character trait

We become the things we do continually
The victim will always find a way to remain a victim
The victor will always seek a way to become a victor

Which will you do, remain a victim, or become a victor?
The choice is yours.

growing

for Jay

An old friend took his life a few days ago. As I tried to come to grips with the why's (we will never know) and the mindset, this is what my head spit out.
I am lost

I cannot recall the moment it slipped from my fingers
Even then, it was still in sight, like a well-known book of the shelf
I could draw strength just from the knowledge
It was still here
It wasn’t strength I would need every day
So the day it disappeared from its familiar place
Went unnoticed as well.

It might have been only hours, It might have been the day
It might have been a week, or a month, or a year
But the day did come and I went to that place
That well-known trusted place and there I found the empty
The place where it should have been
The place where it was before
The place, where, without being seen
It was taken away

There were always winds, and rains, and storms,
And thunder, and darkness, and clouds
But, there always was, in it’s own familiar spot
Shining through the shadows, a single piercing beam
Of life sustaining, of comfort providing
Of solace carrying, a ray of untainted hope

No matter how far I sank, I could find it in that known place
No matter the cares of life that assailed my mind
I could still find my way to that fullness
My soul would find a comfort
My mind would find a respite
My weariness would abate
Until today

Today, there is no rest
There is no breathing room
There is no alcove in which to draw myself
My mind is bombarded; my soul is compassed
Today, there is no hope
There is no anchor for my soul
Today, I am lost

Ron Simpson Jr.
September 1, 2007