It's not Eugene O'Neill, but then it doesn't have to be

Last week I went to see Escape to Margaritaville with my friend Barb. Chicago was the last stop before Broadway. It's a silly show -- about boat drinks and flip flops and vacation romance. I like Jimmy Buffett's music and suspect it could have been more. The songs have a wistful, subversive quality that could have taken the show in a more substantial direction.


But I'm glad that the writers went the sitcom route. This was the first time I've seen Barb since the memorial service for her late husband in September. Since then, she's tried hard to not be home, spending time vacationing in Manhattan and at her new house in Hilton Head. But she can't run away forever. She's back in Chicago for the holidays, and to make some tough decisions about her future. She's going to sell the house here, where she and her husband were living during his year-long battle with cancer.

She's not doing well. She gets teary very easily and admits how much time she spends talking to her new therapist. I suppose I shouldn't have expected her to be doing any better than this. She has been through a tremendous amount these past two years -- her own mastectomy and reconstructive surgery, debilitating arthritis, her retirement, and most of all, her husband's illness and death. She's doing the best she can. I'm confident she will come through this on the other side. But she's on a sad and lonely journey.

So a silly show about booze with a sing-along to "Why Don't We Get Drunk (And Screw)?" might just have been what the doctor ordered.