A long time ago I overheard a very interesting conversation on a New York bound bus as we passed through the Meadowlands. I was a reporter then and began to take mental notes.
“Remember Oscar?” one fellow asked his seat mate.
“Oh sure, good old Oscar from our lodge. Whatever happened to him?”
“He’s back there in Giants Stadium. That’s what reminded me.”
“Old Oscar? What is he, an usher, a groundskeeper?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear. Oscar died last January. It’s an interesting story,” the first man said. “He was watching a Giants home game on the lodge’s TV one Sunday when he mentioned to the other guys he’d like to eventually have his ashes scattered over Giants Stadium.
“His pals remembered this and after Oscar died and was cremated, they told his widow about his wish and the grieving lady gave them his urn. One dark night they made a quick pass over the stadium in a hired plane and, ‘Oscar’s away!’ “
As a reporter I had so many questions to ask about Oscar’s life and launching, but I didn’t think the story-teller would cooperate, especially since Operation Oscar must have broken more than one law and would get the pilot and crew of that little plane in big trouble.
First of all, if Oscar was such a devoted Giants fan why was he watching that home game on TV instead of sitting inside the nearby stadium with his season ticket? But maybe I got the wrong slant. Maybe Oscar was a disenchanted fan, worn down by the frustrations of too many losing seasons. Maybe he didn’t want his ashes scattered in the stadium, but thrown at the team.
Another thing, was the Oscar-dusting mission planned carefully? How does one plot the trajectory of ashes? Is Oscar really in Giants Stadium or did an errant wind doom him to eternity is some Secaucus backyard?
Assuming there were no unforseen errors and Oscar landed on the 50-yard line, then what? Giant Stadium back then had Astroturf and Oscar would never be able to assimilate. He would have been blown hither and yon by the winds and into the eyes and on the cleats of all the players. Eventually he’d be inside all the stadiums of the NFL. Was that his plan?
I’ve grown to like Oscar, an impulsive romantic. If I ever go to a Giants game I’ll pay him homage. Before I sit down, I’ll brush off my seat with due reverence. You never can tell.
Imagine That 