Tribute Edward K. Oliver 2996 Project

In Memory of Edward Oliver
Edward Oliver, 31, met his wife Sheryl while on vacation in Florida ten years before. Although neither of them had any intention of finding a romantic adventure on that vacation, fate seemed to have something special in store for them. Each of them stated that it was Love at First Sight and said that they knew they were going to get married from the day after they met. "Even before I left Florida," said wife-to-be Sheryl Budke, "I told him to tell his mother she had her daughter-in-law."

After a two-year relationship that spanned the miles between Cincinnati and Staten Island, their respective homes, they proved that not all long distance relationships are doomed to fail. In fact, theirs thrived, and they were married in February of 1994. Together, they lived in Staten Island for five years before they decided to start a family. Shortly afterward, their daughter Emily was born and they made a move to the more family- friendly atmosphere of Jackson. Their son, Eddie Jr. was born in May of 2001, and the Olivers considered their family complete. The couple felt that all of their dreams were coming true, and indeed, it did seem so.

Edward was a devoted family man, and spent every second from the moment he arrived home with his children. He couldn’t wait to teach his daughter how to ice skate that winter and to eventually passed on to his five month old son his passions- golf and hockey. Edward took the time to practice his obsession, golfing nearly every weekend with his father. In addition to golf, he was dedicated to Rangers hockey and was a true Mets and Giants fan. He was born and raised on Staten Island and graduated from Tottenville High School in 1988, where he played as number-two man on the golf team and finished his senior year as the number-two ranked golfer in the entire city. Edward loved "The Honeymooners" and, most of all, sitting on the couch with Emily, eating reduced fat Cheez-Its. (He was careful about his health.)

Edward was in a meeting on the 92nd floor of World Trade Center Tower One on Sept. 11. He was a commodities broker for CARR Futures (one of the “best to work with” according to co-workers) and normally worked at the NYMEX blocks but on Sept. 11, he had an early meeting at the main office in the World Trade Center. After his death that day, in tribute, his fellow floor brokers, Charles Crispino, who coaches the Wagner College club ice hockey team, and Joseph Pia, organized a four-day college hockey tournament—the Eddie Oliver Invitational.
Wagner and seven other college teams competed, and New Jersey Devils defenseman Ken Daneyko provided autographed hockey sticks which were raffled off. The tournament raised $25,000, most of it from members on the floor, for Oliver’s family.

He was survived by his wife, Sheryl; his children, Emily and Eddie Jr; his parents, Donald and Barbara; and his siblings, Don, James, and Barbara.

… the following is just some random rambling of my own, a few biased thoughts that I suggest you not read if you don’t want to hear any more of my “emotional memorialism”. Simple reminder- my blog. I haven’t used any magical internet glue to stick your eyes to this page, so just click the little x up in the corner if it bugs you, ok? There, I’ve been nice twice.

I realize that the post above might seem dry, sparse… but I was hesitant to add anything except the facts that I found online. It seems little, doesn’t it? Such a small group of words to pay tribute to a man who was alive, and in love, a father and husband and friend, a man whose life was cut short by an act of senseless brutality, by people of ignorance and fear and hate.

You know, the other day, I read an article that stated that in a recent poll, a good portion of US citizens believe that our government is responsible for the attacks on September 11^th, that bombs brought those buildings down, that there never was a plane that hit the Pentagon, that the entire scene was an elaborate setup to make the war in Iraq happen, Bush’s personal agenda driving him to murder thousands of his countrymen.

???

I certainly hope the poll isn’t true. I don’t hold a whole lot faith in such things, after all, the polls before the last presidential election proved “beyond a doubt” that Kerry was going to win. So, hopefully, the “fact” that roughly a third of my fellow Americans believe this, is not a fact at all, but the skewed perspective of a few conspiracy theory nuts. Good press. Creating controversy. Making “news”.

On that day, lives were snuffed out like so many candles in a hard wind, regardless of who, or what, or how. Today, we remember them. The 2996 project is intended to be a tribute to their lives, not their deaths, and controversy doesn’t belong here today, so I’ll shut up about it now.

I looked at the photos of Edward Oliver and made up my own story. Based on the easy smile, the twinkle in the eye, the relaxed expression. The tenderness with which he cradled his child. I imagined an entire life for him, and it wasn’t hard to do. I bet he was always up for a joke. I bet he was slow to anger. I bet he was a gentle father and a loving husband. He had bad days and annoying habits. He got sick. He got angry. He also had great days, wonderful traits, a strong, healthy body and a laugh that came from his belly. He had goals and dreams and imagined how the rest of his life was going to unroll. He wanted to watch his children grow, see them step onto a school bus, play sports, ride a bike, graduate. He wanted to see his grandchildren. He wanted to grow old with his wife, celebrate a fiftieth anniversary with gold bell decorations and a big white cake. He dreamed of getting a raise or promotion. He loved to tee off on a warm summer weekend, grinning at his dad over his shoulder, and yelling at a hockey game, jumping up and down in his seat when his team scored a goal. He slept, woke up, took showers and went for jogs, worried about eating properly, occasionally indulged in a little junk food. He fought with his wife, and made love to her, he watched his baby son sleeping and smelled his daughter’s hair. He lived, and he was loved.
Never forget.