James Etheridge

My daughter Dana was raised listening to two bands. One was The Beach Boys. The other was Jimmy Buffett. Unlike her father, she eventually outgrew The Beach Boys. She never outgrew Jimmy Buffett. You never outgrow Jimmy Buffett. When the news broke Saturday morning, she was the first to text me. All she said was, “Sad day. Love you, Poppy. ” It was all she needed to say.

I’ve loved Jimmy’s music for most of my adult life. I was fortunate enough to see him and The Coral Reefer Band in concert twice. Both times were at Lakewood Amphitheater here in Atlanta. The first time was in 1993. It happened to be my late wife Marie’s company picnic. The owner of the advertising agency where she worked bought all of the employees tickets and they left Buckhead in a double-decker bus with a keg of beer on board. Her boss was a good man. The seats were for festival seating on the lawn, so my sister-in-law and I bought tickets and met them there. The second time I saw him was ten years later. Dana, her friend Becca and Jackie were with me. Again we sat on the lawn. I was thrilled that Dana finally got to see Jimmy in concert.

If you’ve never been to a Jimmy Buffett concert, they were indeed a sight to behold. The crowds were just as entertaining as the music. His faithful followers, Parrotheads, dress in Carmen Miranda hats, wear coconut bras and grass skirts (men and women alike), tank tops, bikinis, flip-flops and leis. Some dress like sharks as a nod to the song Fins. Others are decked out as cheeseburgers, à la Cheeseburger In Paradise. At the concert in ’93, one ingenious young man had a contraption strapped on his back made of bamboo with a basketball goal affixed to the top. He would pull a rope and the bamboo would extend ten feet up. He tossed people Nerf basketballs and they would attempt to shoot a basket. He would then let the rope go slack and the bamboo goal would fold back down into position. It was one of the more impressive feats of engineering I have seen in my life.

I first became aware of Jimmy Buffett’s music in 1974. My cousin Barbara from South Florida was visiting us and brought his A1A album with her. I had heard Come Monday, his first top 40 hit, on the radio, but that was about all I knew. After listening to A1A with Barbara, I went out and bought the album myself. Then I bought Living and Dying in 3/4 Time when it came out later in ’74. By the time Havana Daydreamin’ was released in ’76, I was a full-blown fan.

I really don’t know how my daughter came to love Jimmy’s music. Yes, she was raised with his music playing regularly, around our pool, in the car and almost constantly in the condo when we were in Florida. But she is a millennial and even though she was exposed to his music at a young age, that did not necessarily mean she would grow up to love it as an adult. After all, my parents listened to Englebert Humperdinck all the time when I was growing up. I never have been an Englebert Humperdinck fan, not then and certainly not now. But Dana has always loved the water and the beach. She could swim like a fish, even as a child.  So it really was no surprise that she would be fond of Buffett’s tropical rock style. Every time we went to Destin, we took her to Banana Bart, our favorite beachside gift shop, and bought her one of his Caribbean Soul line of t-shirts.

Also, I think it’s due to the fact that Buffett’s music is timeless. It’s light, fun and a form of escapism. But it’s not all, as he put it, “drunken Caribbean rock ‘n roll.” Ballads such as Havana Daydreamin’, Banana Republics, The Captain And The Kid, A Pirate Looks At Forty and, of course, Come Monday are reflective, thoughtful and insightful. He was one of those artists who had the ability to stretch across generations.

When Dana sent me the text Saturday morning, I responded with the link to her favorite Buffett song, Cowboy In The Jungle. She wrote back and said, “Love this song!” Afterwards, it occurred to me that he passed away Labor Day Weekend, the end of the summer. It really is fitting.

Jimmy Buffett never grew old. Although he may have been seventy-six, he was always young at heart. But, his time eventually came and that is something that will eventually happen to all of us. Until then, all we can do is, as the song says, “Roll with the punches, learn to play all of our hunches, make the best of whatever comes your way.” Sometimes it’s easier said than done, but try to live life to the fullest. We only get one chance.

Godspeed, Jimmy. You are now where the wind and the water are free.`