Stan The Man

June 6th, 2021

How many times have each one of us woken up to bad news?  You wake up, look at your phone and there is a text message, or in this case two.  “I’m so sick about this, Holly.  I can’t even wrap my head around it, I really can’t.”  What?  Who?  On June 6th 2021,  a dear friend from high school passed away, Stanley Carl Tworek.  His cousin, a Ridley grad, texted me and then called.  I had just woken up and as the day wore on, the news and fact that he was gone sunk in a little bit.  Just a little bit.  I had just spent a couple of days hanging out with him back in March.  It was so nice to see him.  I just messaged with him one week ago.  His story was still up on Facebook and instagram when many of us found out.  How is his story still up on Facebook, but he’s not here? 

Stan, or as I knew him, Carl grew up in Ridley Park, PA.  He came into Ridley a little bit later.  Ridley Junior High, otherwise known as Ridley South.  In 9th grade we were in homeroom together and he said something to me and I remember thinking, what a jerk.  We were fourteen afterall, and well, he was a smart ass and still was up until the very end.  The funny thing is at fourteen years old I liked him as a friend, underneath his surly remarks.  It wouldn’t be until years later that he and I would become really good friends.  This is my fairwell to him, but not really because he will always be in all of his friends and family’s hearts.  So many in disbelief.  

It was Facebook that lead us to become good friends.  We would message on FB and in 2012, we got together for lunch after not seeing each other in years.  What can I say about him that makes me want to write about him?  Well, he was friends with everyone.  He didn’t discriminate.  I loved that about him.  He had friends from all walks of life, all socioeconomic backgrounds and he had so many friends from everywhere.  We liked a lot of the same music and if I was going to see a band that he liked, he would message me and say, “I am jealous, girlie.”  That’s what he would call me, “girlie.”  Me and I am sure many of his female friends.      

In 2010, my cousin took his life and I posted about it on Facebook.  He texted me, “Girlie, are you alright?”  If I was ever unwell, “Girlie, just checking on you.  How are you feeling?” He was that type of friend.  He would check on you, see how you were.  He loved to shoot at a gun range and when I went to Wyoming and shot several guns, I got a text, “Girlie, you any good?  I want to take you shooting.”  I answered back, “I can shoot a gun but I almost blew my shoulder off with a rifle, holy crap!”  His response, “You shouldn’t be shooting a rifle.”  This went on for years.  I wouldn’t hear anything for months and then if I posted something that amused him, or some news whether it be bad or good, he would send me a text.  “Hey, cutie, how are you?”  

He loved Chris Cornell and anything CC did and whenever Soundgarden would come in concert he would want me to find us some inexpensive tickets.  I would say to him, “You know you can’t find anything for $50, right?”   That’s all he wanted to spend.  “$50 is all I am spending,” he would say.  I never found us tickets for $50.  When CC took his life, I woke up to a text message from Carl, “Holly, Chris Cornell is dead.”  He knew I would be upset.  CC is my favorite of all time.  To wake up today to a text message learning that Carl is gone, Stan is gone seems…unreal.  The guy who let me know Chris Cornell was gone, the guy who would text me at 10 or so at night as he was going to sleep to talk about whatever was on his mind over the years.  

Over 6 feet tall, Stan, or Carl was a big guy.  He was loyal to his friends and to Philly sports teams.  His roommate and best friend, Anthony, was always mentioned whenever we got together.  There wasn’t a Carl without an Anthony, they were family.  Torelli and Al were always mentioned, too.  His bonds with people grew deep, like roots that lead back to a tree.  The soil well fertilized and the foundation strong.  I can tell as I look at who writes on his Facebook page right now, that so many are heartbroken and will miss him.  More than a few, too many to mention.  He died doing what he loved, riding a bicycle.  He loved riding more than all things, except maybe beer.  He had a photo album on FB devoted to just beer.  

Back in March, we went walking through the Wissahickon.  It was more like a hike that I didn’t want to do.  When he said we would go for a walk, I thought it would be a stroll.  That stroll turned into a hike but hey, it got better when he pulled two Truly’s out of his dufflebag.  “Which one do you want, mango or passionfruit?”  I responded, “I’ll take the mango.”  He was walking so fast, I needed the alcohol.  I said to him, “Yo, dude, slow down.  I can’t keep up.” He was showing me all of these trails that cyclists liked to ride.  I remember saying to him, “This is so dangerous. I could never do this and I love taking risks, but between the rocks that the cyclists are dodging and the fact that this trail is narrow, seriously?”  To him, it was beyond fine. He was so stubborn.  Once he made up his mind, that was it.  “This is easy,” he said. 

He never slowed down on that “hike,” by the way.  Afterwards, we went to a bar on a corner not far from his house in Manayunk.  Everyone there knew him.  You could tell Dawson’s Pub was like Cheers, everyone was family.  All walks of life, very different people but not so different.  He was upset that a bulldog didn’t like him.  This buldog would not meet his gaze at all.  It was so funny.  He was laughing, we both were.  Afterwards, he walked me to my car and said to me, “When I lost my job a few months ago, many of those people asked me, ‘Stan, do you need any money?’  They wanted to help me out but I said, no, I am good. That’s how nice they are.”     

We were walking up the hill of the Yunk and I said to him, “Right, but what does that say about you that they would give you money?  What does that say?  That says that you are loved, my friend.  It says that you are truly cared about.  Not many people offer money to people, you know?  That says so much about YOU.”  He looked at me and smiled and walked me to my car and said, “Thanks, cutie.  Text me when you get home and don’t forget to watch the Shawn Mendez documentary I told you about, it’s really good.”  I proceeded to laugh.  This is someone who used to listen to Sepultura, Clutch and Public Enemy.  How did he love Shawn Mendez?   Just one more thing I will miss.  All that knew him will miss.  We miss you, Stanley Tworek.  I am speaking for all of us who knew you. I can’t believe that that was the last time I would see you.  It’s not real.  It can’t be.  Your family, nieces, nephews, sisters, will miss you and oh how you loved them.

Ride in peace.