Normally, I’m pretty happy with my life. I have a beautiful wife, two insane-but-adorable kids, a pretty cool job and no major health issues.
But damn, would I love to be Jimmy Buffett.
For a guy who just wanted to hang around Key West and write songs using three, maybe four chords about drinking and goofing off, he’s done pretty well for himself. He’s created an empire out of a lifestyle that he left long ago. And I totally buy into it. A couple of years ago, my hometown paper, The Raleigh News & Observer, ran contest to pick the area’s biggest “Parrothead” (i.e. Buffett fan). Seeing it as more of a writing contest than anything, I opted in. My essay, titled “JB, You Complete Me,” won me a spot on the front page (along with the photo of my boys and me) and the grand prize (a $50 gift card to Bahama Breeze).
Since I’m no musician, (karaoke doesn’t count, and that’s another story entirely) I can emulate other pursuits of JB. For example, did you know he was also a novelist? The picture above was taken at a book signing in Chicago to promote his so-so novel “Where is Joe Merchant?” And if he can write a book, why can’t I?
So I did.