He could find a song line in anything. The man built a financial empire singing about enjoying margaritas and cheeseburgers while kicking back in paradise. Years past I was pretty driven to “succeed” in life — to prove myself by vanquishing unjust demons. Some of that energy began to dissipate as I listened to the lyrics of Jimmy Buffett, the “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes,” musician.
The irony, lost on some, is that although Jimmy Buffett sang songs of escapism from the drudgery of structured life, he was a workaholic who also played hard. Paraphrasing, Buffett flew, he sailed and he threw caution to the wind while working his ass off. Without a doubt he was a lucky man because he loved what he did for a living. His passion came through, and he collected a devoted group of disciples known as Parrotheads. They coveted the life he sang about even if he didn’t really live the escapist dream.
Jimmy Buffett was a poet expressed in song. His music spoke to me regarding life’s ironies, so much so that a book of mine nearing completion is dedicated to Mr. Buffett. I never dressed as a Parrothead, and I’m not a big fan of the large concert scene, but I flew twice to Cincinnati to watch Buffett playing live at the Riverbend Music Center. It was an idyllic place to enjoy concerts with boats anchored behind the stage on the Ohio River.
My favorite Buffett song titled Fruitcakes isn’t well known. It has never gotten much radio time due to its length, but the artist managed to summarize most of my life’s philosophy in one song. The underlying premise of his hilarious musical journey is Desdemona’s observation that the “Cosmic Baker took us (humans) out of the oven a little too early.” Scanning the planet, her premise is easy to accept.
In Fruitcakes, Buffett covers virtually everything from junior mints at the movies, to religion, relationships, government rockets to Mars, and all parts in between. Relationships — “we all got em, we all want em, now what do we do with em?… I treat my body like a temple — You treat yours like a tent.” As Jimmy observed, there’s a little bit of fruitcake in every one one of us. You cannot listen to that song without laughing and nodding your head in agreement (multiple times).
In Fruitcakes, Buffet’s take on religion definitely resonates with me: “There’s a thin line between Saturday night and Sunday morning,” he croons while observing religion is in the hands of some crazy ass people, and that when you swirl it all together he hasn’t got a clue. American politics of late has certainly been doing a good job of telling us that mixing religious extremism with government policy is a bad idea.
Buffett knew life is a mix of “good and bad luck, and that there are times when you need to duck.” That sentiment was hilariously reflected in his song, Jamaica Mistaica, when policemen began instantly firing upon his seaplane (no questions asked), when they landed off the coast of Jamaica. His group had traveled there for some Jamaican Jerk chicken — leave it to Jimmy to lyricize humor into that narrow, ducking escape after enjoying some spicy foul.
It’s not surprising Jimmy Buffett was a kind, charitable man. He reportedly paid off the mortgage for one of his employees; funded protection for the environment, and was known for supporting the Save The Manatees Club. A soul like his, one that touched so many people, was bound to be spreading goodwill in the midst of his acquired bounty. He definitely steered me towards the pursuit of, “A taste for the good life. I can’t live it no other way,” while he reminded me to help others on my way.
A rare skin cancer sadly ended Buffet’s life, and his live presence will be missed throughout the world, but his captivating music will forever give messages. Whenever I need my spirits lifted, or a change in attitude, this well-seasoned fruitcake will put some Jimmy on the “stereo.”
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