In honor of you, Butch, I decided to procrastinate on posting this tribute… which honestly feels like something you’d fully approve of. Not really—I just didn’t want to cry again. But today’s the day we say goodbye to one of the best friends we ever had.
I met Butch in high school, and he introduced me to his cousin Bob. That was my official initiation into the family—lucky me! From there, the memories just piled up, and I don’t even know where to start.
Butch was laid back. And I don’t mean “chill.” I mean laid back. You could show up at his place ready to head out at a specific time, and he’d come strolling down the stairs in his bathrobe, coffee in hand, like he was starring in his own slow‑motion commercial. Needless to say, we were not on time very often. But honestly? It never mattered. We always ended up having a blast.
We went to so many Heart concerts—Ann Wilson was one of his absolute favorites. We spent hours driving around Claymont in that baby blue Granada, bowled Friday nights at Holiday Lanes, hung out with his sister Shirley and the whole family, and played cards with his best friend Joe until the early morning hours. I truly don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much as I did when we were with him. And if Butch was teasing you? That was his love language. The more he teased, the more he cared.
Fast forward to Butch becoming a dad. He’d join our family vacations in Bethany Beach, and I swear I never saw him move so fast as when he was chasing Matt around. That man could hustle when he had to—who knew?
When we moved to the beach about 20 years ago, we reconnected regularly. He introduced us to his “sister from another mister,” Lisa and her family, at what had to be the best Halloween party we’ve ever attended—hosted by him and Karen. We didn’t just have fun; we gained new friends and more family that would last a lifetime. And of course, Butch never did anything small. The artist in him always came out—whether it was his Halloween costumes (I’m still hunting for those Little Red Riding Hood photos), or his cooking. And God forbid you didn’t have parsley for the finishing touch. It might have taken all afternoon to make, but that potato salad of his? Legendary!
When he moved back up north, he still spent many summer weekends with us. We’d spend our days at the beach or at Lisa’s pool, and we took vacations together—memories that will stick with us for life. The laughter with Butch was always real, always loud, and always exactly what you needed.
I could go on and on—and trust me, I could write a book—but I’ll leave it at this: Butch, you were loved more than you ever knew. We will miss you terribly. And I’m sure you already have everyone who went before you laughing 24x7.
Until we meet again… Buh‑byeeee. Love you.
Chris & Bob Kushto