I’m no Parrothead, but here’s to you Jimmy

I enjoyed Jimmy Buffett’s music for decades, but I’m no Parrothead.

I never bought one of his albums.

I never saw him play live.

I did lift many a glass of margaritas when someone played Margaritaville on the jukebox as we all sang along.

When Jimmy Buffett passed away last week, the outpouring of support on social media was overwhelming.

It’s normal for people to acknowledge the passing of one of their favorite actors or musicians, but this was different.

Most people post one tribute when someone passes.

I’ve seen many people posting numerous times to thank Jimmy and to share their sadness that he’s gone.

Jimmy Buffett was the epitome of happiness.

He was the ultimate beach bum.

His songs made us feel like we were hanging out on the beach with him.

His songs made us feel good.

He was always smiling.

As Jimmy Buffett himself would say, “I’m growing older but not up.”

His music has aged like a fine bottle of beachside rum — still sweet, still intoxicating, and always inviting you to escape, if only for a song or two.

So here’s to Jimmy Buffett, the eternal beach bum who turned daydreams into a musical empire.

In a world that often demands too much, he reminds us that sometimes, it’s perfectly okay to waste away in Margaritaville.

— Ted

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