“Jimmy Buffett died!”

I had reconciled myself to the fact this news was coming at some point, but it saddened me nonetheless. 

To be honest, I am not a card-carrying Parrothead. I have never been to a Jimmy Buffett concert, I don’t own a Hawaiian shirt, and I don’t particularly like margaritas. What I appreciated about Jimmy Buffett and his music was the joy, and the wisdom behind the words. 

My relationship with Jimmy’s music began when I was a young Army lieutenant. At a unit cookout, my boss made a comment about having a “Cheeseburger in Paradise.” I looked into it, and I was hooked! From then on, when my Army career took me to less than desirable places, Jimmy and his music came with me. I recall running laps around Camp Able Sentry in Macedonia listening to “Barometer Soup,” and singing “Margaritaville” as I strolled through my command post in Kirkuk, Iraq (much to the dismay of my teammates.) Perhaps the pinnacle of my experience happened earlier this year—I was driving a Jeep up Mount Kilauea in Volcanoes National Park, with my family on board, when my daughter, who had put herself in charge of musical entertainment, added Jimmy’s “Volcano” to the playlist. It was a very proud moment!

With Jimmy’s music, it was not always about parties and beaches. More often than not, it was about surviving life’s hard knocks and coming out stronger and wiser. If you doubt that, have a listen to “Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On,” which he wrote for New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. 

Jimmy Buffett was not everyone’s cup of tea. A friend referred to him as “the most successful one-hit-wonder in history.” As for me, Jimmy Buffet was a musical poet. He told truths, and he encouraged me to find joy in life. I am sad that Jimmy is gone, but we still have his music, and I will continue to heed his advice whenever I need him to remind me that “If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane.”