Kim Earl Butwell

Mr. Kim Butwell died this week after lifelong skirmishes with Wilson’s disease. He was 72 years of age. After graduating from Petoskey High School and from NCMC, he left the area but moved back two years ago. He died almost peacefully.

At an early age, Mr. Kim knew that he never wanted children of his own. Instead, he dedicated his life to helping other people’s children. His resume shows he was an instructor, a child abuse investigator and a probation agent.

Mr. Kim always put the needs of friends and neighbors above everything else. Family, not so much, mostly due to distance.

Surviving him are his wife of nearly twenty years, Betty Patow Butwell and her three children, Susan Fisher and her family, Michael Hayes and his family, Steven Hayes and his wife; his sister Sherry Matz Sutherby and her sons, Charles and Mark Matz; and his brother Craig Butwell and his family, wife Carla, son Steven Butwell and daughter Lauren Butwell Simon.

After retirement, Mr. Kim and Betty moved into their dream home on the Manistee River where he fly fished almost 100 days a year for fifteen years. He happily taught anyone wanting to learn how to cast and catch fish. They sold the lodge in 2023 and moved to Petoskey. Betty had always wanted to live there.

Besides fly fishing, Mr. Kim dearly loved to read and write. He was known for his letter writing but he also wrote poetry and short stories. He always had a sizeable eclectic library, and he nearly always had a book somewhere nearby. He also left behind a good music library featuring blues, jazz, ambient music, rock and roll, and classical. But Mr. Kim will be remembered mostly for his nightly healing fires.

Since his father died in 1989, Mr. Kim had a fire every night. Rain, snow, or wind, it didn’t matter. It started as a homage to his dad, but later changed into a vehicle for focused healing meditation. It was also a safe place to get a little high or share intimacy with a friend or just listen and laugh.

But the coals have gone cold, the embers are scattered. So, with a wink at the buddha, a tear in the eyes, and a smile tickling our lips, we heard the announcer of life and death sadly announce: “Mr. Kim has left the building.”

This will be a sparsely provisioned gathering.

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