by Wendy Hughes
Copyright ©2007 by the Council for Secular Humanism. This article originally appeared in Free Inquiry magazine, volume 27, number 6 (October/November 2007).
Aerial burial is the “final jump” for sport skydivers. A former Marine and recreational skydiver with over 744 jumps under his belt, our friend John (D-1266*) died a few years ago of heart disease. His partner contacted a skydiving buddy, Bear, to arrange a fitting ritual at the local drop zone at Perris, California.
She had had his remains cremated (they don’t usually drop intact dead bodies out of airplanes). The exact origin of aerial burial is unknown, but it is probably borrowed from naval pilots’ custom of spilling the ashes of their dead comrades out of a cockpit window. In the ceremony, about half of the ashes of a cremated human adult fit into a ripstop bag specially designed for this purpose. The container has a Velcro closure with a three-inch plastic handle, called a “pud,” to rip open the Velcro. The bag is attached with straps to the diver’s nondominant arm.
Those of us in attendance at John’s burial watched from the ground, although family members or good friends sometimes opt for flying along. Bear and the skydiving photographer boarded the airplane; they flew to 12,500 feet, high enough for sixty seconds in free fall before pulling their ripcords. They fell ten thousand feet in one minute. During this interval, Bear pulled the pud; the wind blew the bag empty of its ashes. The remains stay suspended in the sky for as long as half an hour, forming a white cloud—quite beautiful and civilized compared to some other burial options I’ve contemplated.
Then the “ick” factor set in. In a moment, I realized that John’s remains were in the air, the same air that I breathe. Eventually, some of the particles of my friend would become part of me. Soon enough, if his ashes were picked up by a jet stream, he would be everywhere. Everyone would be breathing in John.
And what about all those strangers—the ashes of other people floating around in the atmosphere? When I told one friend about aerial burials, his immediate response was that he’d think twice before driving around with the moonroof of his car open.
We are all star stuff, Carl Sagan said famously—the elements of our bodies recycled from supernovae through the generations of our ancestors and what they ate and breathed. Aerial burials simply redistribute the atoms of the deceased through the atmosphere from the top down instead of the usual bottom up, as when we fertilize our pastures with subterranean burial.
Chris Needels of the U.S. Parachutist Association comments, “Many of the ash-spreading stories have been embellished over time, becoming the subject of bonfire storytelling. Most, however, have been done with reverence and dignity, saying something very special about skydivers and our close-knit community.”
Aerial burials have been legal in California since 1999, as long as they are performed over the ocean or over private property, with some restrictions applying, according to the Health and Safety Code.
Thanks to Louise Monaco for legal research and Chris Needels, D-1765, for background information. Between the time of the interview and the publication of this story, Denny “Bear” Gainor, D-138, who shared his personal experience, died of natural causes at the Perris, California, drop zone on October 21, 2006. His aerial burial took place October 28; his ashes were released in free fall by his grandson, Tony Gainor.
*Sport skydivers are identified by unique alphanumeric codes. The letter represents the level of proficiency achieved, with “D” marking the highest level of expertise.
A triple “first”: the first combination of a first jump, tandem jump, and aerial burial. Marilyn Ball’s first jump in tandem with experienced skydiver Jim Wallace and Denny “Bear” Gainor, D-138, with one hand “docked” on the tandem divers, and the open bag releasing the ashes of Marilyn’s late husband, Bill Wagner. (Perris, California, August 18, 2003. Photo credit: Joe Rosenberger)
Wow, that’s a lot of firsts — hope you didn’t say that too loudly around the drop zone, cause you’d owe them a LOT of beer. :)
You know, that sport is on a lot of Bucket Lists… but not mine. I have trouble sitting comfortably in the passenger seat when someone else is driving a car, let alone letting anyone else pack my parachute. Our friend Bear (D-138) told us that he started skydiving as a consequence of a broken heart, but then fell in love with jumping out of airplanes. They are risk takers for sure. He was a cutie, but I never envied his girlfriends.