JAM - Music and Memorabilia

07/18/2026

07/12/2026

Our Customer Appreciation Sale Continues Today! 12:00-5:00
(Don’t forget to wish Larry a Happy Birthday!)

07/11/2026

CUSTOMER APPRECIATION SALE SATURDAY AND SUNDAY To Thank You For Voting For Us In The Best Of Delaware Poll! 20% Off Storewide (things marked firm or previously reduced are excluded) We’ve just added some new records, CD’s and T Shirts including some more $5 T shirts. There will be drinks and snacks and drawings for prizes so stop by and see what’s new at the ZU!

07/04/2026

Closed for the 4th! See you tomorrow!

06/21/2026

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY TO ALL THE DADS!

06/20/2026

Lots of great new stuff has arrived! Stop in and see what’s new at the ZU!

06/18/2026

We have the BEST CUSTOMERS! Thank you to all who voted! We hope to see you all soon!

05/20/2026

NEW AT JAM! $5 T-Shirt Rack! New Additions Weekly!

04/25/2026

New Arrivals! Vinyl, T’s & CD’s!

03/24/2026

In August 2002, Warren Zevon received a devastating diagnosis: inoperable pleural mesothelioma, a rare and aggressive cancer linked to asbestos exposure. Doctors gave him three months to live. He was 55 years old, seventeen years sober, and a fiercely respected songwriter whose brilliance had never fully translated into commercial success. Though best known for the novelty hit “Werewolves of London,” Zevon’s darker, more literary work had long been admired by fellow musicians.
Faced with the end, Zevon made a choice. He tried chemotherapy once, but the treatment left him violently ill. He chose not to continue—not out of surrender, but because he wanted a clear mind. He believed he had one more album left in him, and he didn’t want the haze of treatment to steal that away.
So he started calling friends. Bruce Springsteen, Don Henley, Jackson Browne, Tom Petty, Emmylou Harris, Ry Cooder. He didn’t ask for sympathy. He simply asked if they would come and play with him on one last record. Every one of them said yes.
VH1 sent cameras to document the recording sessions. What they captured was raw and painfully human. Zevon had begun drinking again after years of sobriety. The diagnosis shook him deeply. Some days he disappeared into depression and didn’t show up. Other days he returned, determined to keep working.
His co-producer Jorge Calderón pushed him to finish the final song, “Keep Me in Your Heart.” Zevon resisted at first, worried it was too sentimental. Calderón insisted the song mattered. It had to exist.
By April 2003, Zevon was too weak to stand. His daughter Ariel—pregnant with twins—sat beside him while Calderón helped prop him up on the couch. With liquid morphine easing the pain, Zevon held his guitar with trembling hands and recorded his last vocals in his living room.
Two months before the album was finished, Zevon made one final television appearance on the Late Show with David Letterman. The show was dedicated entirely to him—no other guests, just conversation and three songs. Letterman asked what Zevon had learned about life and death. Zevon replied with the line that would become his epitaph: “Enjoy every sandwich.”
No poetry. No grand philosophy. Just a simple truth from a man who knew time was short.
Zevon lived long enough to meet his twin grandsons in June 2003. He lived long enough to see his final album, The Wind, released on August 26. It debuted at number 12 on the charts—his highest ranking in twenty-five years.
Twelve days later, on September 7, 2003, Warren Zevon died at home in Los Angeles. He was 56.
The album later won two Grammy Awards. Critics who had overlooked him for decades began calling him profound. The industry that once kept him at the margins now celebrated him as essential.
Zevon never heard those accolades. But he did hear his friends play on his final record. He saw his grandchildren born. And he finished the work.
Warren Zevon didn’t defeat cancer.
He defeated the silence that comes from leaving something unfinished.