I REMEMBER THE DAYS– Freddy Howard Bensalem Class of 1986


letters

I told you Scott, if you ever found a good photo I would place you on the cover of my first novel like you wanted. Good job Marine.
You shall NEVER be forgotten.
R.I.P.

PS

I told ya bro– all good.

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I REMEMBER THE DAYS

By Freddy Howard

Bensalem Class of 1986

I remember the days if a you were going to get a call from a girlfriend at a certain time, then you had to rush home and make sure no one was on the phone.
This of course always inevitably led to a fight with your brother or sister who was somehow MAD DOGGIN on a blockade mission to destroy what little idea of a love life you thought you had at 13.
No worries, because then came the cordless phone. You could now shadow their every move as they walked around the house with the phone trying to piss under your skin even more…

But then came that super portable bag phone (in the 80’s… which became extinct after 3 years) that you could charge and talk for about an hour unless you plugged it in your cigarette lighter (My 1987 Chevy Camaro, thank you very much)

But then…. ahhhh!!! Came the call waiting (actually it came before… much before… but you see where I’m going with the analogy… catch the drift).

Now there was a little more wiggle room here, with this call waiting thing. The only problem was that you would have to stand there and make sure when the girl (or guy) called, your knuckle head brother or sister would answer because it signified their time was up on the phone and you found yourself standing in their door way

(Remember you were prohibited on pain of an ass whipping for stepping across that imaginary line. Yes!! Ass whippings by your moms, dads, grandparents and sometimes their close friends were legal back then)

Only the Brady Bunch taught us otherwise– just ask James… JJ’s father on Good Times

(Do you remember those shows?)

Okay, test question. DO YOU REMEMBER SATURDAY MORNING CARTOONS??

If you answered no to one of the above it probably means you would be seeking therapy if you couldn’t get a replacement cell phone in 24 hours.

Moving right along here…
Any one of my BENSALEM HIGH SCHOOL MATES who went to Samuel K. Faust Elementary, Neil Armstrong Middle or Benjamin Rush could easily recall the infamous DEATH CAMPS politically called DETENTION!!!! (Especially at Cecelia Snyder Middle School… the equivalent to Auschwitz) Uhhmm… yep…they could attest to some of the haywire shit that happened back when we actually had SMOKE BREAKS in high school (The 80’s… Maddonna was queen then and the BREAKFAST CLUB WAS REAL).

And teachers could tell you they were gonna be “CRACKING SKULLS MISTER” and it wasn’t meant literally (like “Peeling back your grape cap” or any ICE CUBE literal gangsta lingo like TODAY).

It only meant– “Listen, nimrod– you want to pass? Then put in 100% and if you only make 65 on the test but you tried (and you weren’t the class ass), I’ll float the 5% pass so we don’t dance again next year– and maybe even talk to your math teacher– my friend… deal?”

(And, no, teachers weren’t charged under the Federal  RICO statutes for making those kinds of deals with students back then)

Oh– and the CRACKING SKULLS MISTER thing– teachers wouldn’t serve fifty years in prison for terroristic threats either for saying that (It was a FRIGGIN  METAPHOR you turd)

Also, it was OK for your football coach to grab you by the face mask and walk you around the football field a bit because you kept screwing up the play. He could make you run a hundred hills to make you better and he wasn’t going to be “UNDER INVESTIGATION and SUSPENDED” because he SINGLED YOU OUT and he would not get sued for causing you PTSD as a result of some good old fashioned discipline.

(Yes, there was a time when the football coach was the unofficial king of the school, respected, whether or not the team had a winning season)

It was just tough love and it worked. He wasn’t going to be fired for assault, he just wanted you to make the team, he wanted to make you a winner.

My Bensalem High School mates were there and they sure as shit remember Mr. Cory and his “HIS & HERS” paddles in middle school

(Yes… girls were fair game too… Pennsylvania was a corporal punishment state… the teacher could f__#$%^ you up too, so long as they didn’t kill you, and you were a true A-HOLE and deserved any lesson you got… and they would too… just before your mom and dad did a second round on your drug addicted, disruptive *^%^ when you got home after hiding out in your friend’s room for three days missing…

Remember those friends??

No more friends like that around anymore. Today they’d dime you out faster than a fly can suck on some fresh cat shit (And they suck suck fast too).

The choice in middle school for acting like an ass-clown was a hard swat on the butt or two days in detention.

Most kids in Snyder chose the detention for good reason (That reason was Mr. Cory and his OFFICIAL SCHOOL TITLE– DISCIPLINARIAN)

And oh yea… back then a cop wouldn’t stoop so low as to lead a kindergartner out of the school in handcuffs for tugging on Suzy’s hair– that was NOT the local news.

Oh yea, I almost forgot… we were talking about the phone thing…

Continuing…

What sucked about the bag phone was even back then it cost you 60 cents a minute without roaming charges and a $1.20 outside your small geographic empire. I say empire because it was your world back then if you could afford one of these dinosaurs.

But it was all good, because LL COOL J took us a step further when he was spotted in one of his videos (or was it a movie??) talking on that wireless brick thing phone atrocity which looked like a satchel charge of C-4 explosive (remember that sh__i&%?).
but OK..

We all got wise and realized that $1.20 per minute was high in 1988, even by 2013 pricing standards. It was definitely for the ballers and businessmen.

So eventually we graduated in about 1993 to flip phones and pagers. Now, we are moving on up to the big time but I’ll let one of my other brothers or sisters from the 80’s finish here–I wasn’t gonna even touch the ATARI and PAC-MAN THING.

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COMING!! SOON!! LUKE 11:24 (The dark obsession of a killer clergy)


Luke 11:24

Luke 11:24 is an obsessive thriller. It will be avail in paperback and e-book edition through Amazon.com.  I am a proud sponsor of SmileTrain, and a special edition signature book be purchased on the website with $5.00 each paperback sale being donated directly  www.SmiltTrain.org.  My (our) January 2014 goal is to raise $50,000 to fix the smiles of  200 children born with cleft lips and then make a video presentation on YouTube on your behalf and post it to the website.  Each cleft surgery only cost $250.00, and there is also  a counter on the website to see our progress.                                                                      Lets help a child smile…                                     Scott would have liked that.                                                                                                                                                 R.I.P                                                                           Scott (Aka- Scotty Flawless)                                                                                 Semper Fi


 

LUKE 11:24 (The dark obsession of a killer clergy)

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                  WELCOME TO MY WEEKLY BLOG BLOG

The real man who graces the cover of this book is my eternal best friend, Scott Warren Polkinghorne, who passed away on January 12, 2012. Scott, I promised you bro, that if you ever found a good enough photo of you, (Yeah, I know what you’re probably saying “All my photos look good,” right?) I would place you on the cover of my first novel for the entire world to see.

And although you never found one before you were called away, on November 10, 2011, at 0946hrs, on the Marine Corps Birthday, you sent me a text of the Marine Memorial from your phone. The text read LIVE FROM IWO. I still have it on my phone. And the world will see that, too. You placed your face in the video, and the last word I ever saw and heard you speak in this life was, “Oohrah!”

 At 0947 hrs, as you were standing in front of the Memorial, Scott, you happened to snap a photo of yourself that I know will be viewed by millions of people all over the world. It was exactly what I was looking for. You came through, just like you said, thanks bro.

 Scott, as you know, Jonathan Florentino is a fictional character, and he could not hold a candle to you in the real world – or in a fictional one.

 You and I also know, that if it were possible to take a magical visit to Never Never Land, we’d have to catch that train, go down there, and kick his  *&#!* and give Jonathan the true Hollywood beat down that he deserves.

 As a fictional or as a real person, Jonathan Florentino is everything both you and I would despise in the real world. But he makes for good entertainment, and that’s what it’s all about, right? Entertainment. 

 When this book makes it to the big screen (and I believe it will, because I have already written the screenplay, LOL), the actor who plays Jonathan better look just as intimidating as you do on the cover. That’s you, bro; intimidating, but with a heart spun of gold.

 Scott, you leave behind a wife: Joni Lynn-Carnevale Polkinghorne, who you loved very deeply and who has loved you, Scott, always and forever. Your oldest son, Kevin 18, who looks just like you when you were 18, and is on his way to fulfilling his dream of becoming a policeman. His younger brother, Tyler 16, who told me yesterday on the phone that even though Kevin is older, he is the better looking one, and has all the ladies, (what’s that saying about the apple and the tree, bro?) but he still has the bright, wryly, grinning smile of his mother, Carol Anne Polkinghorne, your first wife, the mother of your two sons and one of your close friends who has always been at your side in times of need.

 I spoke with your father, Stephen, a couple of days ago. His exact words to me were, “I miss my boy,” (I had to break down a little bit on that tune, bro. Sorry).

 Anyway, as you know, he and Bev miss you, and so does your mother, Delma; your brother Steve, your sisters: Michele, Robin, Sonya, and all of your extended family and friends who you have touched.

 For 26 years, we called you Scotty Flawless because your boots were spit-shined so perfectly, it looked like you were actually walking in a black pair of glass. You made a lot of Marines green with envy. Remember how the body bearers hated us? We could outlift them, too, and we would make those funny, obnoxious sounds as we lifted, to get them to hate us more. We were 18 and I still smile when I think of it. And by the way (and so what), congratulations for finally outbenching me (even though it took you 21 years).

 A final thought Scott. In 1986 you brought together a group of friends, best friends, all of us: Jimmy Gwaltney, Kris Hess, and Earl Gilpin. We have all been close, ever since, and no matter how far apart we may now live away from each other, no matter how much time has passed, no matter how much time shall pass; through you Scott we are joined as brothers. You just had had it like that, bro, magic. You will never be forgotten.

 Oh, and you’re not getting off that easy. Like we talked about, whether it is in this life, or the next, the five of us are still going to take that deep sea fishing trip we planned. All the fish we can eat. And I have a feeling, that wherever that place is, you sure as hell won’t be allergic to shrimp. But knowing you, I’m sure you’re just waiting on us, and you probably have the spot already picked out.

Oh, and one last thing: That book you wanted to write about your life, don’t worry about it. Something tells me that one day I’m probably going to end up writing it for you.

Now that’s enough of that mushy stuff. Take off those wings, sit your ass back on that cloud, kick up them boots, and enjoy the story. It’s all about you, bro. It’s about Scotty Flawless

                         SEMPER FI

                         R.I.P.