GRANDMOTHER MEMOIR

Happy 88th Birthday, Mom

Receiving the gift of writing and many, many grandma memories

My mom turns 88 years old on Sunday.

“What do you want for your birthday, Mom?” I asked.

“Will you write me a story about me as a grandma?”

Happy birthday, Mom.

Enjoy your gift.

A son searching for shoes

“I want you to come with me on a journey to a shoe store, ” begins the sermon of the 28-year-old ponytailed pastor with the shaggy, curly beard, and warm, gentle, brown eyes.

Confident, assuring voice.

Paces a few strides to the left, then continues: “I don’t know about you, but I need some shoes.”

Returning to the podium, he glances over his notes and prepares to enunciate every word.

“You already have these shoes in the gospel of Jesus Christ,” states Reece Butler a youth pastor at Lawndale Community Church in Chicago.

Charlene Butwell beams with pride watching the Youtube video of her oldest grandson preaching from the pulpit.

Reece is just one of five grandchildren she’s proud of. She is also a grandmother to Bryce (23), Brady (20), Brenna (18), and Dominic (14).

Who’s that clomping on my bridge?

It seemed just yesterday when the roles were reversed and an enthusiastic curly-haired, four-year-old Reece would come romping merrily on his grandmother’s wooden bridge — fearless a troll might be below.

“Danny, tell me the story of Three Billy Goats Gruff,” he said.

Reece called her “Danny” at an early age because he was unable to correctly pronounce granny, and it’s been carried on through all four other grandchildren.

Young Reece always looked forward to visiting Danny, hearing her tell Bible stories, and going to Sunday school at Rolling Hills Covenant Church. He met another Reece there who also grew up to be a pastor.

I divorced when Reece was only a year old, and my ex-wife would bring our son to my mom’s place, the halfway meeting point, for weekend visits.

The Saturday night special

Just as my mom and dad would take us out to eat weekly at Pagliai’s, Whimp’s Place or Bob’s Big Boy, my mom and I began a tradition of taking Reece to Tony Roma’s on Saturday nights.

Danny will never forget her memorable visit to Chicago when Reece was 14 years old. She enjoyed watching him play middle-school basketball but was more impressed by the incredible tour guide he was, showing her the Willis Tower, Field Museum, Gino’s Pizza, riding the city train, and giving a city tour of Wheaton, his hometown.

Universal Studios and Disneyland were just a few places my mom and I would take Reece when he was younger. Determined five-year-old Reece, always eager to push the stroller around a crowded theme park, then crashing during the late-night fireworks.

Toy shopping

Ah, those 1970s yesteryears days of running around K-Mart, begging — pleading — with my mom to buy my brother Scot Butwell and me either a GI Joe action figure, matchbox cars, or a pack of Topps baseball cards. Scot and I would bug her and show no mercy until she relinquished.

My son Bryce carried on this thought-out toy scheme.

My mom would pick Bryce up from half-day kindergarten, grab him a McDonald’s kid’s meal for lunch, and attempt to drive home. Until …

“Danny, can we please stop at Target to get a toy?”

It didn’t take anywhere near as much persisting this time around.

Go speed racer

I’d arrive home from work and there would be five-year-old Bryce and my mom, plopped on the ground, enthusiastically racing matchbox cars down a twirling car tower — over and over and over — betting, er, guessing which car would win.

“I’m taking yellow to win this one, Danny,” Bryce shouted.

The game hardly ended there. Next Bryce, with assistance from Danny, would line up all 100-plus cars in color-coded lines. None even a millimeter crooked.

Danny would cheer on Bryce at his youth soccer, basketball, and baseball games until it become too much for her.

She lights up like a Christmas tree every time Bryce comes to visit and enjoys his stories and intellectual conversations.

Do you have a girlfriend?

What kind of woman are you looking for?

Tell me what you’ve been up to?

The last time we visited, she had given Bryce questions from one of her Bible studies and they were discussing the meaning of a certain verse.

The hunt for green soldiers

The bridge tromping continued with Brady as both Danny and I warned him about the ugly, angry troll frolicking beneath the wooden bridge.

Six-year-old lively and courageous Brady wasn’t buying it.

His favorite pastime at Danny’s was to hunt for toys in her backroom. He’d pull them all out: dinosaurs, teddy bears, cars, figures, but he especially loved playing with the green army men.

He also loved going swimming in Danny’s pool and floating in the cute bright pink inflatable elephant ring — until Dad tried to squeeze in and popped it.

His favorite book was always “Go, Dog. Go!” and Brady would ask my mom, “Please, Danny can you read it one more time.”

Often she’d continue to read it until he drifted off to sleep for a nap or at bedtime. Brady would be dressed in Reece’s too-adorable, hand-me-down 101 Dalmations pajamas.

Like Reece and Bryce, Brady would make the trek to San Pedro to go with Danny to the annual Angel Breakfast at her church every December.

Brenna Christine Butler

Then on March 19, 2004, my mom had her first granddaughter.

It brought her such joy and her eyes gleamed and her smile widened as she held her tight and rocked her gently that first time in the hospital.

Finally, a girl after three boys, my mom loved shopping for pink outfits, buying Barbies, and, who could forget the battery-charged pink Barbie jeep she got Brenna one year for Christmas.

My mom cherished playing house and having tea parties with three-year-old Brenna and her well-dressed doll friends. Brenna was always the polite, chatty, and gracious host.

Never a dull moment with my mom

Game nights are always a hoot with Danny.

There was the time she drew little mini Dorito-shaped triangles in a Pictionary-type game to symbolize Pringles that comes in a well-known unique-shaped cylinder container.

Wrong chip, Mom.

Or in the game Hedbanz where everyone wears the word visibly attached on their headband — they can’t see it though — and others have to ask for clues to guess the hidden word on their head.

“Orange! Cat! Bicycle! Monkey!” My mom shouts out, giving away all four answers at breakneck speed, ruining the game.

Everyone roars with laughter at my mom’s confusion about this supposedly simplistic game.

Make way for Broadway Dominic

My mom was heavily involved in plays in high school and college, and even met my dad when she was acting in a play. She even directed me in Aesop’s Fables.

Would this thespian trait be passed along to her grandchildren?

No, no, no, no, and yes!

Along came my brother Scot and Lisa Butwell’s son Dominic and we had ourselves an actor — like grandmom.

Beaming with pride, my mom loves telling me the story of Dominic reciting his lines in the on-stage production of Shrek.

Huge smiles emerge from my mom and laughter follows as Dominic acts out and entertains his grandmother with his plethora of created characters, often playing out scenes, both rehearsed and unscripted, sometimes with Scot and sometimes solo.

She also appreciates — most of the time — when Dominic and Scot cook as a team a tasty breakfast of coffee, pancakes, and an omelet. And she’s no easy critic as she recently gave me two thumbs down to my attempt at an omelet.

Dominic amazes my mom with his brilliant memory whether it is memorizing all the capitals, books of the Bible, or dialogue from his favorite TV show.

And he loves when I recite “My Brother’s Farts Got Me in Trouble,” and I recite the repeated line…

Where the Hell is Scot?

He repeats it loudly, and my mom almost rolls out of bed laughing so hard.

The Christmas gift

With my kids older and out of school, working, being with friends, and other commitments, it gets harder and harder to find time to visit their grandmother with me.

Christmas time it almost happened.

Reece visited from Chicago a few weeks early, but during the week of Christmas, four of her precious grandchildren gathered together along with Scot and me. We ordered pizza, drank wine coolers and nibbled on crackers cheese, read aloud poems and Medium stories about my mom and family.

And we even turned back the clock and played a few family games like Don’t Break the Ice and Yeti in My Spaghetti.

My mom rekindled more laughs and memorable moments with some of her comical, crazed game-playing tactics, grabbing the Yeti accidentally or pulling a piece way too hard and having all the pieces fall down ala Jenga.

Classic Danny moves.

Eventually, it was time to go. I asked my mom if she liked the variety of Christmas gifts we brought her.

“Mike, the best gift of all was having my grandchildren here for Christmas. I couldn’t ask for a more joyous Christmas.”

Thanks for reading my story.

Celebrate this 88th birthday with me: Scot Butwell, Lu Skerdoo, Klara Jane Holloway, PJ Kaplan, Cliff Hightower, Deborah Camp, The Sober Vegan Yogi, Susan Wheelock, Jane Kelley, Ginger Cook, Kirby Workes, Sreese, MarkfromBoston 🌻Ukraine.

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