A Tradition with My Grandfather, the Marine

This one is strange. It’s strange to think about and it’s strange to write. It’s strange because it’s an end of something special, and it’s a thank you, and it’s a damn… what am I gonna do now? It’s about me and my grandfather, Jimmy Butts, and it’s about a tradition which was buried with him.

I’m not sure if you believe in callings, but I do.

There was a Marine recruiting commercial in 1987 which called to me. In the commercial, an armor-clad warrior rides a horse into a sweeping throne room crowded with peasants and dismounts before a king. He kneels and the King knights him. It’s a scene which has been played out countless times in film, television, books and plays, and our imagination, but this one is different. When the knight arises, he is transformed into a United States Marine. At five years old, I didn’t know what the man in dress blues was, so I asked my mother what the knight became. From the moment I heard her say Marine, I was sold. I’m not sure if I ever said I wanted to be a doctor, or an astronaut, or the president, but I remember always wanting to join the Corps. As I’ve said, I believe in callings and knew this was mine, so when I turned 17, I got parental consent and enlisted.

The night I returned from the processing center in Houston, my grandfather, who we called Pawpaw Jimmy, came to the house with a tie in his hand. After some small talk, he asked if I was sure about what I was doing, and when I told him I was— that it was all I had ever wanted to do— he said, “Well, then you have to know how to tie a Full Windsor— you have to know how to tie a Marine’s knot.”

I have no illusions that Pawpaw Jimmy was a perfect man. I know he wasn’t infallible, and I’m sure he’d been angry and said things he’d regretted. I don’t think I ever asked my mother if he spanked them or not, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had— I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t either. It’s just that I’d never seen him angry. I’d never heard a cross word from him. I’d never even heard him raise his voice before. So, when I chuckled and asked him how he knew anything about a Marine’s knot or how to tie one, I was shocked to feel the sting of his hand across my face. “Because I’m a Marine, son.”

Private Jimmy Butts, USMC-R at MCRD San Diego April, 1959

Until then, I hadn’t known he was ever in the Corps. He never spoke about it, he didn’t wear a veteran’s hat or have an Eagle, Globe, and Anchor tattoo. He didn’t even have an Eagle, Globe, and Anchor bumper sticker. He was just my outdoors loving, fishing addicted, master welder, mechanic, tinkering, gardening pawpaw. He was gentlemanly, and nice, and kind and loving— he was also a Marine.

I graduated high school in May of 2000 and arrived at MCRD San Diego— Boot Camp— on June 19th the same year. Ironically, that is my wife’s birthday and my other Grandfather’s. That’s another story, and a good one, but what does any of this have to do with a tradition?

If you have any social media accounts, you know what time of the year it is. It’s the most wonderful time of the year. That’s right, you guessed it— it’s almost the Marine Corps’ Birthday! You’ve probably scrolled past dozens of Marine Corps Birthday posts— maybe hundreds. The Corps was born on November 10, 1775, and for us, our birthday is Independence Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years all rolled into one. It marks the start of a Marines new year. All other holidays are secondary to this occasion, and we have no problem reminding the world of this fact.

Birthday celebrations can be intimate and informal or massive ceremonial full-dress black-tie affairs, but anywhere in the world, where two Marines are together on our Birthday, there is a celebration. This year marks our 248th, of which I have celebrated 22 and will celebrate a 23rd with my Marine wife tomorrow. It is a sacred tradition for us— every Marine throughout the world— and one which we look forward to every year no matter the clime or place.

I have never had occasion— never made occasion that is— to be home during this time of the year. Mainly because I had too many Birthday Balls to attend. As you pick up in rank, you end up attending more and more. That’s one of the reasons we call it Ball Season. I think four birthday ball ceremonies were the most I ever attended in one Ball Season. So, Pawpaw Jimmy and I never celebrated our birthday together.

Our tradition was small, but one which I cherished, and I think he did too. For the past 22 years I would call him on November the 10th and tell him happy birthday. I’d make some cheesy comment about how good he looked to be 225 years old, then 226, then 227, and on through the years until my call last year. “Happy Birthday, Marine. You’re sure lookin’ good for 247!” We’d laugh and he’d say something about “feelin’ good” for 247. We talk about the Corps, and the family, and catch up and I’d tell him I loved him. That was our tradition— my call and our birthday wishes.

He passed away on August 24, 2023, at the age of 86. A few days later my mother called and asked me to write and deliver his eulogy. As I wrote it, a few things struck me: I didn’t know his given birthday, nor had I ever thought to ask; my girls wouldn’t get to go fishing or crabbing with him again, as we planned during our last conversation; and there wouldn’t be a 23rd happy birthday call. Our tradition died when he did.

Pawpaw Jimmy was never shy about telling me how happy he was to get out of the Corps. Once he joked, “They were gettin’ in the way of my fishin.” But every Marine is happy to get out of the Corps. After 21 years of uniformed service, I certainly was, and that’s okay. As the saying the goes, The Change is Forever, so in my opinion, a Marine has permission to enjoy the freedoms he or she fought to protect while in uniform.

Our conversations changed after I retired. There was less talk about what was going on in the Corps and world, and more talk about, well, fishing. But there was always the call and the conversation— there was always our tradition.

There was… strange, indeed.

PFC Jimmy Butts, USMC-R with PFC J. Aaron Courts, USMC at The River September 16th, 2000,

So tomorrow, in my 23rd year as a Marine and what would have been his 64th, I’ll message my buddies and tell them happy birthday, as we always do. I’ll toast the Corps and tell my wife happy birthday, and that I love her. And I’ll wish I could call my grandfather and tell him, one more time, happy birthday and that I love him too.

As I write this, I wonder if I should start a new tradition or just let it rest with him. Should I write him a letter or make an extra toast to him? Or should I go to the closet and tie a full Windsor.

I guess I’ll let tomorrow decide.

Happy Birthday, Marine and Semper Fidelis. I love you.