Ordinarily, my biweekly essays are about things that happened a long time ago — usually some 60 or 70 years. This offering relates a personal experience about 20 years ago.

It was the summer of 1990 (or thereabouts) and my good friend Bill Bishop, formerly of the Napa County Sheriff’s Department, now deceased, called to say he was the executor of a mutual friend’s will. In the will the decedent requested cremation, followed by his ashes being dropped into the sea.

I owned an airplane, and Bill asked if I would be willing to fly him and the ashes over the ocean and fulfill the decedent’s wishes. I agreed.

On the chosen day, I called my good friend Fred Tholcke, formerly of Pacific Bell, explained what was happening and asked if he would like to go flying. He said that he would.

So the three of us met at Napa County Airport and boarded the airplane. I sat in the left front seat while Bill was in the right front with the box of ashes. Fred was in the right rear.

It was a bright, clear and calm day. After takeoff to the north, I headed west toward Bodega Bay. After about 20 minutes, we flew over Bodega Head and then three or four miles out to sea.

Bill had the cardboard box with the ashes in his lap. In preparation for the drop, he used a knife to slit the masking tape holding the top together and prepared to open the door.

I slowed the airplane to just above a stall. Bill opened the door and started to push the box out into the slipstream. However, with the door open a Venturi effect was created, and instead of the ashes going out the door they flew to the back of the airplane and on to Fred. Bill and I turned to check on Fred and saw that his body was covered with about two inches of ashes. All we could see were his eyes. Fred was laughing his head off. Bill and I then started laughing, too.

Fred had never met Pete, so Bill turned to him and said, “Fred, meet Pete Schotte.”

We again had a laughing fit.

After we came to our senses, Fred scooped what ashes he could and put them back in the box. Once again, I slowed up the airplane and Bill opened the door, making sure that the top stayed closed, and threw the box with what ashes Fred could collect out the door.

We returned to the airport and tried to clean up as much of the ashes as possible. I finally borrowed a vacuum cleaner from Bridgeford Flying Service and we finished the clean up.

Now, to paraphrase Paul Harvey, here’s the rest of the story.

The decedent was Pete Schotte, a former chief probation officer for Napa County. Pete was a Navy carrier pilot during World War II and flew Corsairs. He loved airplanes and he loved to talk about his time at sea. So it was a natural that, upon his death, he would request his ashes be dropped from an airplane into the sea.

Pete had a sense of humor that was one-of-a-kind. He was always laughing and his memory contained an inventory of a million jokes. I once took a trip to Lake Tahoe with him and during the whole trip, up and back, Pete told jokes — and never told the same joke twice.

So it figured that what was meant to be a somber affair turned out to be a comedy — of errors.

After landing and while using the vacuum cleaner, I told Bill that I hoped Pete, wherever he was, had seen what took place. I knew that he would think the incident was hilarious.

Shortly afterwards, Bill quietly took Dottie Schotte aside and told her what had happened to her husband’s ashes. After a few minutes of reflection, Dottie said she saw the humor in the whole thing and said that Pete would have loved the story about his burial at sea.

Here’s to Pete. May he rest in peace.

Napa As It Was appears every other Monday, alternating with Betty Rhodes’ Senior Corner.