Adventure is what you make of it

the cheeseburger edition

Aloha! I’m heading into my final week in Hawaii. I started this post on Saturday, when Jimmy Buffett’s passing made the news. Life—and even death—is an adventure, so LET’S GO

Jimmy Buffett passed away yesterday.

I liked a few of his songs, but even more than his music I appreciated his life—or at least the appearance of his life. He seemed like an easy-going man who enjoyed himself. He liked to have a good time and dreamed of adventure. And he did what he loved. I can get behind that.

He was also, apparently, a shrewd businessman, whose estimated net worth was around $1b (according to BBC news). Restaurants, retirement villages, merch, tours … The man was a brand. Just ask any Parrothead.

I used to joke that if I ever got remarried, it would be to someone whose last name was Buffet(t). Warren or Jimmy, I wouldn’t be too choosy.

When my mom and I found out she was dying, it was done in such a careless, insensitive way that I still have flashbacks about it. It hit us hard. As soon as I could, I found an empty hallway and called my dad in California. “I don’t think I can do this,” I told him. I was separated from my husband (X2), had no siblings, and no family in Oklahoma. It was just me, doing all the things. My dad dropped everything and arrived in Tulsa a week later, and didn’t leave for three months.

For the last five weeks of her illness, in 2011, he and I took shifts watching over my mom at an end-of-life facility (a godsend of a place to which I still donate). My dad would go home, make some food, rest, shower, etc, then it’d be my turn to go home for a bit. We’d each get four hours, then both of us would stay the night at the facility. Sleep was a concept. It was a rough time, for everyone.

On my drives to/from the facility, I listened to the Jimmy Buffett channel on SiriusXM. For those few minutes each day I used the breezy music to escape. I dreamt of what felt like an impossible nightmare would be over and I’d go to Key West and have a cheeseburger and a daquiri. I dreamt of resting and being free and having no more responsibilities.

I also felt really guilty for wanting to escape. I never would have done it, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about it, and then feeling guilty about wishing for it. I’m guessing I’m not the only one who’s felt this way, but I don’t know for sure. Maybe I am a Bad Daughter, lol. Regardless, it creates a push-pull of conflicting feelings. It’s a complicated time for those of us who are witnesses … I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be the one who is going.

For years after, my dad would ask me, “When are you going to Key West?” I never did go. It lost its appeal once everything was said and done. But for that short time in 2011, Jimmy Buffett and what he represented was everything.

My dad had gone to Key West. He’d been lots of places because he was an adventurer. He traveled the world, even backpacking and hitchhiking way back in the day. He loved going new places and when he said the phrase “I love an adventure,” his whole face lit up and he got that proverbial twinkle in his eye.

In his last year of life, “adventure” was taking the bus from La Crescenta to the USC dental school. It wasn’t an epic trip like, say, going to Portugal (although once it did take him six hours because he went the wrong way and missed a stop) but he still approached it with good spirits. It was still an adventure.

Me, I’m not much of an adventurer. But I admire my dad’s sense of fearlessness and openness. And for years now I’ve appreciated Mr. Buffet and his vibe. In the twists and turns of the freeway between my head and my heart, the two adventurers are intertwined.

This last week, my dad came to “visit” with me as I was looking out over the water from the Balcony of Paradise. I could hear him telling me, “You should be on the water, not just looking at it.”

Hmm.

Was he telling me to get my ass on a boat? Honestly, I don’t think that’s what the message meant. I did look into what it would take to find a sailboat to take me across Kaneohe Bay, but unless I want to spend some serious money I don’t think what I was hoping for is possible. Plus I’m not sure I wouldn’t get seasick. Anyway, I think he meant that adventure is a state of mind. Approach everything with a sense of adventure. Because it all is! Even trips to the dentist.

I don’t think I need to escape anything anymore. Which is just as well, since you can’t. But I can embrace the spirit of adventure any time I want. As I enter my final week in Hawaii, I appreciate every single minute I can sit outside and soak in the beauty and the breeze on my face, the fierceness of the mountains and sea and also the peace. In my mind, I’ll be able to come back to this place anytime I want to—like in February in Oklahoma, when I’ll be trapped indoors due to the cold, and fresh air on my shins is a distant memory.

I’m imagining Jimmy Buffett and my dad sitting down to a cheeseburger in paradise right about now.

the popster hiked the camino for a month when he was 70. in sandals.

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