I found myself pulling out an old Jimmy Buffett CD the other day. It should be noted that I used to be a
huge fan of his years ago. And then I went to work for him.
Mind you, I don't have anything against Jimmy. In fact, I'm still a fan of him as a person! I think he's an amazing businessman, a masterful storyteller, and more talented that most people give him credit. And in my interactions with him, he was a genuinely friendly, laid-back, and gregarious human being.
Its just that, well, when you work in one of his businesses... you hear his music. Over. And over. And over. After awhile, I could identify songs by album, track number, and date of release. I could tell in 10 seconds if the couple who just walked in the door were going to request that we put on Margaritaville because, hee hee, they were
at Margaritaville. I could pick out the college guys who were likely to steal the salt shakers on the way out the door. I knew who was going to get drunk and sing. Or take off their clothes. I could quote lyrics in my sleep. His songs no longer represented the dreamy escapist fantasy to me. They represented $2.04 an hour and tips to pay the rent.
For the first couple of years after I left New Orleans and Margaritaville, I didn't listen to a single song if I could help it. His CDs shuffled to the back of my collection. And besides, I was back in the Midwest with frozen winters and gray skies. The umbrella drinks, tropical storms and pink sunrises over Bourbon Street were just a part of my life that didn't exist anymore.
Years later, with wounds healed and a life in the South, if not exactly the tropics, I find myself drawn back to an occasional song. A memory, an encounter, a passing comment reminds me of a song lyric, and I dig out an old CD and put it in the player. I had one of those moments today when I was thinking about the upcoming holiday.
On the 4th of July all those years ago, I was living in New Orleans. My love-life had taken a significant blow, my future was looking pretty grim, and for lack of anything better to do, I volunteered to pull a double-shift at the restaurant. Margaritaville New Orleans sits near the riverfront, just behind the famous French Market and on breezy days, huge doors open to the market street and the sounds and smells waft through the restaurant. From tables along the back wall, you can just see over the levy to the riverfront and catch the occasional glimpse of cruise ships and freighters moving slowly up the lower Mississippi River.
It was a slow night, and as the sun set over the French Quarter, our crowd cleared out pretty quickly. The City planned fireworks down on the riverfront and the crowds gathered early to find good vantage points in Jackson Square. As I was bussing up after a final table along the back wall, I remember hearing the muffled sounds of fireworks, and I looked up through the glass to see brilliant streaks of red and blue lighting up the sky in the distance. I stopped what I was doing to lean my forehead against the cool glass window for a better view.
And you know, at that moment, most everything in my life was crap. My first 'adult' relationship had collapsed beyond my wildest dreams and I couldn't afford a place of my own in New Orleans. I had few friends in town and fewer prospects. My future looked bleak at best.
But leaning against that window, something in me clicked.
I watched the night sky light up with flashes and twinkles and thought, 'I did this. I brought myself to New Orleans. I found myself a job. I live in a fascinating city. I drive to work every day through a setting I never imagined. I've met people and seen places I never knew existed. My life may not be perfect, but its beyond any daydream I created as a child... And I went out and found it.'
And in the soundtrack of my memories, I always remember that moment with a ballad called, "The Night I Painted the Sky". It probably wasn't playing - it would be too movie-moment if it was. But when I think of that moment, as I did today, I dig up an old CD and remember.
"Independence Day, and all I remember,
was a midnight rainbow that fell from the sky.
As I stand on the beach, I slowly surrender
to the child in me who can't say goodbye.
The rockets in the air
and the people everwhere
put away their differences for awhile.
Oh I am still a child
when it comes to something wild.
That was the night I painted the sky."
