My friend Butch Kronlund was a giant in my life. Literally. Six foot three inches and 220 pounds of heart and humor, Butch had a largeness of spirit, and an enthusiasm for life, that invariably rubbed off on others. And while the cheerful giant I knew is no longer with us, he has left an indelible mark on his family, his friends, his communities, and on me.
Butch and I met nearly 40 years ago at the Carmel Beach volleyball courts. It was the late 1980s and the courts were hallowed ground to a precious few local players – those who could afford their own nets, lines, and beach volleyballs. There weren’t many of us, but we dutifully set up and took down nets before and after each match. It was a tight club, and Butch was a stalwart. Blazing heat or torrential downpours, he’d arrive at the courts before any of us, set things up, and greet us with a grand smile. Butch wasn’t a natural beach volleyball player, but he was enthusiastic and committed. He was one of us, and with us.
Over the years, Butch took ownership of the courts – welcoming new players and spectators, anyone he saw who looked new or lost. He took great pride in the sport and the community around it. When the City of Carmel decided to redesign its North Dunes area, Butch was part of a small team of players that worked with decision makers to relocate and reconstruct the courts. Butch was the gracious diplomat to my barking bulldog. While I led the fundraising efforts to purchase new posts, nets and hardware, Butch led the construction, applying his formidable skills as a Big Sur contractor. Today, the Carmel courts are among the most beautiful courts in any location. As Butch was proud to observe, the courts have come to support a much more vibrant and diverse community of beach volleyball players than ever before. Thousands of young people from around the world have played at the courts, and they have Butch to thank.
Volunteerism defined Butch’s life. When I started the California Beach Volleyball Association Monterey chapter, Butch was one of the first to help. Soon after we built the Carmel Beach courts, Butch led construction of four new courts on the Monterey waterfront, also with permanent nets. Those courts, too, attract players from around the world.
Butch played a prominent role in his other communities as well. In Big Sur, he unhesitatingly served on the front lines of disasters – fires, slides, car wrecks, whatever. He led the Community Association of Big Sur’s efforts to create more housing for the local workforce, a cause that he was passionate about. In my role with LandWatch, Butch and I collaborated on housing, transportation, and other initiatives to support the Big Sur community. Whenever Butch called, I listened, because he knew more about Big Sur than anyone, and he loved it as much as anyone.
Butch and his wife Patte were among a group of beach volleyball families that we vacationed with in Baja California. I have hundreds of photos of Butch, many with him showing our then young children volleyball techniques mixed with laughter. In the same way that Butch did not shy away from the front lines of Big Sur, Butch was on the front lines of co-parenting our kids, with his enthusiasm and love of life. They adored him, and he loved them just as much.
Butch had, as they say, a gift for gab. He loved to tell a good story, and believe me, he had innumerable ones – of his early life growing up in Los Angeles, his years in Cambria, his time playing professional basketball in Australia, his immediate head-over-heels love for Patte, his construction of Post Ranch and dozens of private homes in Big Sur, and his many adventures with Big Sur natives and interlopers. It wasn’t unusual for Butch to stop in the middle of a very competitive beach game and launch into a story inspired by casual trash talk. I should also acknowledge that Butch was an excellent trash talker.
But Butch was also extremely well read, a clever writer, and a deep thinker. Butch believed in science and vaccines, understood climate change, and knew that if you deport immigrants you destroy the American spirit and economy. He suffered no fools.
I’ll remember Butch as a giant with a smile, heart, and hand for all those around him. From our countless hours at beaches and over meals, he leaves me with one clear life lesson: live large, give large. Carpe diem, my friend.