I’ve loved Jimmy Buffett’s music since Come Monday came out. I learned his songs on LP, cassette, CD, DVD (sound tracks), and now through a streaming service. I love his originals and the remakes: James Taylor’s Mexico, John Denver’s Nothin’ But A Breeze, Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl. I’ve read The Jolly Mon to my sons and his novels for myself.

I danced my sons off to bed with Barometer Soup and Banana Wind. I did know by heart all the songs on Songs You Know By Heart. When I heard Fruitcakes on the radio while driving from New Jersey to New Hampshire, I pulled in to the next strip mall that had a record store to buy it [The only other time I did that: Lyle Lovett’s Joshua Judges Ruth].

Were there Buffett songs I didn’t care for? A few. Did I waste away in Margaritaville? No. Did I see in his word and music a troubadour? Absolutely. There was so much fun to his music, with not a little philosophy and a smidge of theology thrown in. Written on album sleeves and written on my heart so many songs.

Blessings and Peace, Jimmy Buffett. And profound thanks for your life’s work.