Trares
I’m not going to lie — this one hurt.
Celebrity deaths have never shaken me that much. Certainly, I feel sadness when a beloved musician, actor or other famous person passes away, particularly if they died young. The losses of Tom Petty, Prince, David Bowie and Betty White fall into that category, just to name a few recent ones.
But there has always been a detachment; I didn’t know these people, and while I felt sympathy for their families and friends, I had no real basis for grief.
Still, on the first morning of Labor Day weekend, that profound sense of loss came crashing down with the news that Jimmy Buffett had died.
Sure, some of his songs, such as “Margaritaville” and “Cheeseburger in Paradise” could be — pardon the pun — a little cheesy. But much of his work, either as a musician or a writer, seemed to capture my mindset for much of my life.
My father owned an old cassette of “Songs You Know By Heart,” the greatest hits compilation that was ubiquitous in any Parrothead’s collection.
The songs — which I did know by heart — were the soundtrack of hot summer days at our family’s cottage, whether we were splashing in the cool water, or gathering as a neighborhood for taco night.
As I grew into a teenager and then a young adult, I was captivated by Buffett’s paradoxical devil-may-care attitude and laser focus on his goals. While he projected the aire of an eternal beach bum, he also built not only a musical following, but a business empire, with his own resorts, beer, tequila mix and restaurants.
I went to my first live concert as a 17 year old, and was immediately charmed by the sense of community that took over amphitheaters and arenas all over the world. Since that time, I probably attended close to 20 shows, including his last one in Indiana in 2021.
I may not have known Jimmy Buffett, but it sure felt like he knew me. His fascination with new places, his joy of the water, his loyalty to family and friends were all aspects that stirred deeply in me.
But one thing I’ve read since his death rang true, and it comes from someone who did know him — his daughter, Delaney, penned a wonderful letter to her dad and posted it on her social media pages. A line stood out: “My dad was the joy he sang about.” Despite never meeting him, we all shared in his joyous spirit through his songs.
So here’s a toast to Jimmy Buffett. Hope there’s always booze in your blender, and your flip-flops never blow out.
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
