On Saturday, Labor Day weekend, I woke to the news that Jimmy Buffett had died. I am not a
huge Buffett fan, I’m not a Parrothead, but I knew and enjoyed his music and, even more, his
philosophy of life that permeated his music.
It seems every summer party from the 1990s till today plays Buffett tunes to get everyone in
the right party spirit, and it’s effective. Who doesn’t sing along to – “Wasting Away In
Margaritaville” or “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere”.
After hearing the news, I found a few tunes on Spotify and settled on the couch to listen to-
It’s those changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of our running and all of our cunning
If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane
It often takes only one song to dredge up memories.
Thirty years ago, the CEO of the company where I worked asked me to relocate for one year to
Fort Lauderdale to facilitate the merger of a smaller corporation we’d acquired. I had been
through a painful separation and divorce the previous year, so it was not hard to say yes. Since
it was temporary, I kept my condo in Nashville, planning to return to the home office at least a
few days a month.
I was lucky enough to find a furnished apartment in a high rise on the beach in Lauderdale by
The Sea. My colleagues muttered their envy and threatened to visit often to make sure I was
actually working.
I drove down from Nashville that fall with a car full of clothes, a few books, and a CD player.
One kind-hearted work friend gave me a mixtape (remember mix tapes?) of beach music for my
fifteen-hour drive to get me in the mood for the Florida lifestyle. Jimmy Buffett songs were
about half of the two hours of music since his songs personified the beach lifestyle.
It sounded like an excellent opportunity to start over, but since my only acquaintances in Fort
Lauderdale were from my job, and they all had their home lives, I didn’t assimilate into the
South Florida community at first. I settled into a routine of walking the beach in the early
morning and occasionally in the late afternoon if I was home early enough. Most evenings I ate
my takeout dinner on my apartment balcony and stared at the ocean while reading a book or
playing solitaire on my computer, sipping my G and T, and listening to mixtapes and CDs. Okay,
not awful, but those first few weeks were a lonely time in my life.
After a few weekends of exploring Fort Lauderdale, I decided to drive to the Keys, and I fell in
love with the laid-back island lifestyle. Key Largo was only an hour south. On the weekends I
began to hang out there, soon meeting a guy who taught me how to sail a Catamaran, and
finding a local fishing guide who took me Tarpon and Grouper fishing in his flats boat. I
snorkeled the John Pennecamp State Park coral reefs and paddled a kayak around the
mangroves, usually ending my day with a beer and Stone Crab claws at a local dive bar.
Through a mutual friend, I’d met Joanne in late summer of that year. We had only been on a
few dates when I broke the news that I’d agreed to move to Fort Lauderdale. She didn’t seem
upset. I remember her saying something like, “Maybe I’ll come down to see you in Florida.” She
later told me that she was unsure if I was completely over my divorce, and she was in no hurry
for a commitment. Seeing me once or twice a month for a while was just fine with her. I think
she was probably right.
My relationship with Joanne rocked along at first, but after visiting for a long weekend in
November, and us spending most of that time in the Keys snorkeling, fishing, and a night in Key
West, she expressed an interest in visiting more often, especially as winter weather settled into
Tennessee.
A few friends also asked if I had a spare bedroom, and even work colleagues began to check on
me, asking how the merger was coming along and if I needed them to come to South Florida for
a few days to support my efforts that winter. My weekend social calendar began to fill up.
Key West was a three-hour drive from Fort Lauderdale. It seemed like any visit from a friend
needed to involve an overnighter to Key West. Duvall Street is the epicenter of all the bars and
clubs and the raucous party scene. With an island full of hippies, flamboyant gays, potheads
and crossdressers, there is no lack of entertainment. The crawl down the street leads to
evenings full of fun and entertainment at the pier in Mallory Square. As it grows closer to
sunset, musicians play, magicians, jugglers, and contortionists perform.
The party atmosphere only increases as the sun slowly sinks in the sky. Sailboats, party boats,
and jet skis race to the west over the water to get to an unabated view beyond the island
offshore. Then they race back after sunset for great food, music, and more than you want to
see in drunken debauchery.
Jimmy Buffett’s music is the soundtrack for the Keys and the Key West life. That lifestyle also
attracts creative types, I soon discovered. The most famous is, of course, Hemingway. But other
famous writers who lived there include Wallace Stevens, John Dos Passos, and Tennessee
Williams. It is the home today for Judy Blume, Annie Dillard, Ann Beattie, Meg Cabot, and many
more well-known writers, musicians, and artists.
The change in latitude that year led to a change in my attitude. I lost a little bit of my career
drive, and I began to contemplate becoming a writer. My view toward life began to evolve into,
to quote the pirate poet, one of,
“Forget that blind ambition and trust your intuition.”
and,
“Some people never find it, some only pretend I
Just want to live, happily ever after, now and then.”
Joanne and I have frequently returned to the Keys over the last thirty years. The place holds
special memories since our relationship was formed through that year of living apart and yet
enjoying so much adventure together.
“Searching is half the fun. Life is more manageable when thought of like a scavenger hunt as
opposed to a surprise party.”-Jimmy Buffett.
For years we have reserved a week in Key West in early February. For many of those stays,
we’ve watched the Super Bowl on an outdoor screen at a bar next to our hotel as we
celebrated the Key West sunset happening behind the screen. The Covid years halted those
annual visits, but we hope to resume our winter break again next February. We’ll find our
favorite bar or restaurant and toast the music and life of Jimmy Buffett.
On Saturday evening we invited a few friends over, feasted on shrimp tacos, quaffed a pitcher
of Margaritas, and sang along to Buffett songs. We each, in our own way, and through our own
memories, reflected on how we learned to enjoy the ocean and our many beach vacations
through his songs and lyrics. He taught us how to enjoy the sweet times in life. To quote the
beach bard once more…
“Take it all in… it’s as big as it seems. Count all your blessings. Remember your dreams.”
And,
“I’d rather die while I’m living than live while I’m dead.”
RIP Jimmy.