At 62…The Words and the Music

JIm and I used to laugh that we’d lived our lives by the lyrics of Jimmy Buffett and Willie Nelson songs. Past 62, I find there’s a lot of truth in that statement. It’s always been about the words with me – the turn of a phrase, the quirky pairing of words, the emotions. Buffett is a master lyricist.

I watched a Jimmy Buffett concert tonight on YouTube. It was from a Dallas performance in 1994. I feel sure I was in attendance at the same show in Houston earlier that season. At first, I just watched the show. But as the music progressed, I was almost 30 years younger, feeling the total euphoria that a few hours in the presence of Mr. Buffett engendered in me every single time. It never mattered how bad the day had been, how deep the depression, how complete the exhaustion – music and lyrics by Buffett brought me back to life.

I first saw Buffett in the summer of 1975, when I covered him as a reporter for the University of Houston newspaper. He was playing at Gilley’s, the legendary country honky-tonk in Pasadena, Texas. I was shoved up next to the stage, interacting with him on every song. He wore those iconic blue suede sneakers of the time, and when the very drunk lady next to me set her open beer on the top of his speaker, Jimmy and I both watched it slide down the speaker in slow motion. He didn’t jump away in time, and he wore beer-soaked sneaks the rest of the evening.

For the next few decades, I was in the audience every single time he came to Houston. Astroworld, The Summit, Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion and more. I missed his concert the year Catlin was born – I was on forced bed rest, and I couldn’t persuade Jim to let me break out just about a week from due date! My last concert was the night of my 50th birthday – it was as close to perfect as a concert could be.

I never drank at his concerts. I never got high. The all-consuming energy came from somewhere deep inside me. I danced for the entire show – I often wondered why I paid for a seat. I knew the words to every song. It was all about the lyrics for me.

The pop songs – “Margaritaville”, “Cheeseburger in Paradise” – were never my favorites, as much fun as they were. I fell in love with his ballads. The way he wrote, the words he used, the plays on words, and the turn of a phrase made my writer’s heart happy. When he started writing his books, I devoured the ones that told the stories of his escapades, then I fell in love with his short stories. “Boomerang Love” – there is lots of truth in that one to this day.

When Jim died, we used Buffett songs to tell the story of his life in video. “Son of a Son of a Sailor”. “Delaney Talks to Statues”. “Pirate Looks at Forty”. They were perfect. Every single word.

Buffett is a master marketer – hotels, restaurants, casinos, even the whole Parrothead thing. He has that same life energy I loved in Mike – he set out to live life in full, in total – and he did. As a pilot, a surfer, a sailor, a writer, a performer, traveling the world – every day seems to count in his life – and he has fun doing it. There aren’t many who can say that.

There are dozens of songs he’s written that count as favorites. When I finally mastered the incredibly complicated lyrics to “Off to See the Lizard”, that was a job well done. “Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On” has become a personal mantra. “Oysters and Pearls” got me through leaving Catlin at camp for the very first time. The Adirondack Mountains are the backdrop for “Tonight I Just Need My Guitar”. “Oceans of Time” broke my heart after I lost Mike. “Trying to Reason with Hurricane Season” has soothed my Gulf Coast heart for years. The list goes on – and on.

Now, at 74 years of age, Buffett is still going strong. Still writing. Still surfing. Still making his audience think with his lyrics. “Life on the Flip Side” is an album that is a perfect capstone to his career. The very last song – “Book on the Shelf” made me burst into tears the first time I heard it. At that point, I had definitely put my book on the shelf. Without Mike, and with my loss of mobility, I had no plan, no purpose, for the first time in my life. My depression was deep and total. This song summed up for me all that I was feeling – but with a defiant twist. After listening to it over and over, I decided that, somehow, I wasn’t yet ready to put the book on the shelf, after all.

And so, I kicked myself in the butt, got a hip replacement, and started making lists again. I realized that the music was gone from my life. I’m making a point to turn it on again – to crank it up loud – and once my new hip allows it – to start dancing again, both figuratively and literally.

“According to my watch the time is now. The past is dead and gone. Don’t try to explain it just nod your head – breathe in, breathe out, move on.”

So much soul-searching just from a concert – and memories. Thanks, Jimmy.

Taking a deep breath…at 62 – and beyond.