Learning To Drive, The Butki-Way

Growing up Butki we had a tradition - you learned to drive at the cemetery. That way if you hit anyone, well, odds are they are already dead. Curbs at cemeteries are usually curved which is easier on the car if you hit them and is practically begging, "Please learn to drive on me."

So we did learn to drive at cemeteries in Riveside, Calif. First my older brother than my older sister and then it was my turn - first we would drive at a small cemetery and, when good enough, move on to a bigger one with more turns. And finally, when good enough, we would move up to empty parking lots at the community college on weekends.

I thought at the time it was brilliant. Actually, I still think it was pretty smart - it was very typical to how the mind of my dad worked: practical, a bit outside of the box but completely logical. I mean this is the same guy who would insist we order different items on the menu so we would not only each try something different but explore as much on the menu as possible

After dad died I got to know for the first time his side of the family, who live in Michigan. While there my favorite uncle died - the one I had used as a platform for a newspaper column urging parents to tell their kids those words they need to hear (that you love them, that you are proud of them), which prompted total strangers to reach out to me to tell me they had just had the best most meaningful conversation of their life. That may have been my biggest accomplishment as a journalist.



I attended this uncle's funeral. While there an aunt invited me to return but this time for a happier occasion, namely Thanksgiving. So I did and had a great old time.
The last stop on the trip was a cemetery, where I saw for the first time where my grandparents on my dad's side were buried. On a hunch I asked a question and had a suspicion confirmed: Yes, they too were taught how to drive in cemeteries like this.
What I thought to be dad's ingenuity was actually the continuation of a family tradition.

And so it goes, traditions passed down. By the time I have kids I hope to be driving hybrid cars. But still, kids need to learn to drive so guess where I will teach mine to drive? That's right - the cemetery. So if you are going to a cemetery and see an erratic driver, step aside and watch as a Butki ritual and tradition drives by.
The end