Column: Jimmy Buffett's music touched hearts, will live on forever

Sep. 8—"And there's that one particular harbour

Sheltered from the wind

Where the children play on the shore each day

And all are safe within."

— Jimmy Buffett

I don't drink margaritas. I don't like seafood. Heck, I'm not even much of a sailor.

But I did love Jimmy Buffett and his music.

The singer-songwriter, who died Sept. 1 at age 76, touched so many lives. To some he might have been just a singer who hit it big with a few songs, but he was an inspiration to so many more through his music and way of life.

I had heard of Buffett growing up, and I knew a few of his early songs that made the pop charts: "Come Monday," "Margaritville" and "Cheeseburger in Paradise."

When I met my future bride, she introduced me to one of his albums: "Songs You Know By Heart." It opened my ears, and heart, to a whole lot more of Buffett's music. Some of the songs I memorized were "He Went to Paris," "Pencil Thin Mustache" and "Grapefruit Juicy Fruit." Two more of his classics, "A Pirate Looks at Forty" and "Son of a Son of a Sailor," also were on that album.

I enjoyed his music off and on — he didn't get much airplay from what I remember on the usual Top 40 radio stations around here — but then satellite radio came along. And Buffett, being the wise businessman that he was, seized the opportunity to have a Margaritaville channel.

I used to spend my evening commute from Augusta listening to the "Buffett buffet." Chances are if you hop into my truck, the radio will be tuned to Radio Margaritaville.

I was fortunate to see Buffett and the Coral Reefer Band play twice. Both concerts were in the Charlotte, N.C., area. The first one was in the early 1990s, and it was memorable because the remnants of a tropical storm were blowing through the area. I remember him saying we were going to have "one hell of a hurricane party!" He also singled out some of the professional wrestlers who attended the show, including Ric Flair.

It was about 25 years later when we saw him the second time, and the show was just as good as we had remembered. He even did a tribute to Prince, who had died just a few weeks earlier.

My wife and I wanted to see him again, but COVID-19 derailed plans to see him in Columbia. A promoter wanted to have Buffett and other acts play during Masters Week in Augusta a couple of years ago, but that fell through for other reasons.

On a family vacation many years ago, we stumbled across a Margaritaville in Panama City, Fla. We were surprised when a replica plane descended from the ceiling and simulated gunfire erupted around us. A big screen then started playing his song "Jamaica Mistaica," which chronicled the true-life story of Buffett and his entourage getting fired on by the Jamaican authorities. As he sang, they were "not a ganja plane." Buffett turned an unfortunate incident into a memorable song. Like most good storytellers, a lot of his music came from observing his surroundings.

I wasn't surprised by the outpouring of emotions from so many people, including celebrities, sports stars and fellow musicians, when they heard news of his death. He could mingle with the common folks or he could rub elbows with the rich and famous. He was that kind of guy.

I love all the songs we know by heart, and I've added a few more favorites through the years: "Livingston Saturday Night," "Who's the Blonde Stranger?" and his cover of the classic "Southern Cross." My all-time favorite Buffett song is "One Particular Harbour," which celebrates finding that one spot where you can get away from it all.

RIP, Jimmy Buffett. You will be missed, but your songs will live in our hearts forever.

Thanks for reading.