John wasn’t just my agent, he was also a friend. I’ll cherish our lunch meetings and the wonderful conversations we shared. His stories were captivating and I could listen to them for hours. 

He will be greatly missed.

John Butcher was that  friend I trusted with providing me financial guidance and life advice surrounding our adult children. He never used my first name when he called or during our time spent discussing our favorite topic, our children. We always agreed my two and his three had become our parents. Losing John is indescribable and I will forever cherish the friendship we shared through honest dialogue. Love you John Butcher!

Phyllis

I met Mr. Butcher when I was 12 years. He is a true Friend/Insurance agent not never a dull phone conversation.

 John Butcher is a Kansas City, Missouri Icon and will truly truly be missed.

Sharing our condolences and love.  Mr. Butcher has done so much for my family. He would often share with me that, his daughter and I were born in the same hospital around the same time.  Such a great man and story teller!  All the love and support...if you ever need anything place don't hesitate to ask.  

Amario and Kerrie Griffin

To the family of John I pray for comfort and understanding. I’m glad for the reconnection. Growing up, our family spent many days in Wathena considering our Grandparents (uncle to John) lived there.  I was around Kathy more so than John and Joan.  It was at a AAU track meet, I saw this man that resembled  my Grandfather. Low and behold, it was John.  May his memory fill your void of his transition.   Rest well John. 

When I was a kid, I thought my dad was the unofficial mayor of Kansas City. This man never met a stranger. Always gave his full name "John Butcher…” followed by a longer than average handshake and warm smile. He was sincere and at his core, a young man from a small farm in Wathena, Kansas who enjoyed people, wanted to hear their stories, and tell them his. I'll admit, I was skeptical, “How do you know everyone who works here dad? Are you sure they want to talk?” To my surprise, they did.

People he met everywhere would listen to him talk about sports or brag about his three children and five granddaughters. If they stayed long enough, he would tell them about my mom, Deborah, who we lost to breast cancer in 1998. He might tell the story about how they met at the University of Kansas in the 70s. Or how my mom, a former high school cheerleader turned mom cheerleader with voice that could fill a stadium, was his best friend. He missed her dearly.

My dad’s positivity was contagious. As his daughter, I often felt invincible. He'd always say, "you sure are fast…good lookin’ too!" When my siblings and I had little girls, he'd give them the same compliments and they’d light up with joy.

We will miss you dad. I hope you’re listening to smooth jazz, reunited with your many loved ones. I look forward to chatting with you again one day.