Sarasota author recalls his connection to Jimmy Buffett

I played with Jimmy Buffett. Sort of. A number of years ago I was with friends at Margaritaville, in Key West, his first venture into what was to become a monstrous business empire. Niki and the Stix were playing on stage and we had a table next to that stage. Buffett and his piano player walked in, commandeered said stage and proceeded to play songs by Elvis, Roy Orbison, the Everly Brothers and others. I picked up a discarded tambourine and played on every song from my ringside seat. One of the greatest nights of my life.

Jimmy is arguably – not even arguably – the greatest branding agent in history. Margaritaville is a name that means frozen shrimp meals (check out Publix), tequila, tequila mix, restaurants, resorts (check out Margaritaville on Anna Maria), Broadway plays (recently at the Van Wezel), drinkware, and T-shirts, hats, shot glasses, and so much more.

A generation grew up with the Peter Pan image, someone who told you through song, through books, that you never had to grow up. Keep it simple. Stay the kid that you were. In one of his songs about breaking an arm playing softball, he has a line that says, “I’m growing older but not UP, my metabolic rate is pleasantly stuck, let the winds of time blow over my head, I’d rather die while I’m living, than live while I’m dead.” Be in the moment. Jimmy did that for all of us.

I played Buffett for my kids, who cried when he died. They played Buffett for my grandkids and I’m certain that the lyrics, the poetry of a free spirit, will pass on to my great-grand kids. I saw Buffett in concert 12 times. My good friend Joe Devore saw him 86 times. Jimmy was family.

Jimmy Buffett had a pulse in Florida. I have friends of 40 years and we bond over Buffett songs, me playing guitar and all of us singing “Changes in Latitudes,” “A Pirate Looks at Forty,” “He Went To Paris” and “Margaritaville.” Every time we get together.

My wife and I had a margarita tonight. Not unlike other nights, but this one was a toast to an icon. Someone who was part of our lives, who told us that your history was what made you what you are and that you always, always should celebrate the child in you. The fun, the adventure, the positive attitude that moves you on to the next challenge, the next chapter.

RIP Jimmy. Miss the hell out of you.

Sarasota-based novelist and mystery writer Don Bruns is the author of numerous books, including the Detective Quentin Archer series. He is also the editor of the mystery collections “Hotel California” and the recently published “Thriller.”

This article originally appeared on Sarasota Herald-Tribune: Sarasota mystery writer Don Bruns emulates the Jimmy Buffett spirit