There’s been one song buzzing in my ears for a few weeks now. Maybe in yours, too.
“Wastin’ away again in Margaritaville ... Searching for my lost shaker of salt...”
The folksy, fun summery song many of us grew up with and younger people learned to love as well.
Singer-songwriter Jimmy Buffett passed away earlier this month at the age of 76.
I was not a full- fledged Parrothead, as his fans are called, but I just always appreciated his songs and his obvious zest for life. He just seemed like a fun guy.
In the days since his death, at age 76, it was touching to read various messages from friends and admirers.
Many of us, it seemed, actually intentionally went to buy margarita mix at the liquor store. The manager at the one I went to said there had been a major run on that “frozen concoction” since his passing.
Initially, I thought that was funny. He gave everyone an excuse to let loose a little. But, soon after it struck me how really poignant that was. A guy we didn’t really know, with one little song, had many of us around the world thinking of him and raising a glass. It struck me as a pretty meaningful tribute.
Truth be told, the feelings weren’t really about a song. It was really about a relaxed, carefree lifestyle he was singing about. The island life. Living in your flip-flops and Hawaiian shirt in the sunshine. Relaxation.
It was interesting that his daughter, Sarah, said her dad was the hardest-working person she’d ever seen.
That also makes sense. You don’t become a billionaire (that's 'b' as in beach) without putting in the labour.
He had a hand in the Margaritaville franchise of restaurants and bars, resorts, merchandise, Cheeseburger in Paradise restaurants, and Mailboat Records.
Then, of course, there was the recording and the touring over six decades.
So, maybe it wasn’t, in reality, the endless carefree summer we all envisioned. But that is what he represented and what he sold to a generation or two. It was his job and he was good at it.
Jimmy just seemed like a very happy guy and his apparent joy of life spilled out on his audience. I don’t recall many sad faces at any Jimmy Buffett concert.
Even as a casual fan, I know all the words to Come Monday, It's 5 O’Clock Somewhere and Rum is the Reason, to name a few.
Though 76 seems a very young age to pass away, in a way it seems fitting that he died in the waning days of a long, hot summer. His family and his dogs were at his side and, according to his daughter, he died “with a smile.”
Another friend said, “He lived his life like a song.”
How interesting, too, that the cause of death would be Merkel cell carcinoma, which is described as a rare and aggressive form of skin cancer. The very lifestyle that built him a vast empire caught up with him in the end.
Somehow, I think Jimmy would have been OK with that ending.
Maybe even quoting his own song ... “but, I know, it's my own damn fault.”
Play on, Coral Reefers.
