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…