A new look at Jimmy Porter. February 2012, Manhattan. 
Lots of times when Arthur and I go to the theater, whatever show we’re seeing, he’s seen it before. And most times, he was there for the first run. 
"So, have you ever seen Look Back in Anger,” I asked last week as we wheeled into Laura Pels Theatre.
"Showah. John Osborne," he said raising his eyebrows. "I hated it."
"But you bought the tickets!"

He shrugged.
Luckily, this time around, it was wonderful. Or, as Arthur said during intermission, wondahful. No real signs of feeling lost during it either, thank goodness.
Here’s to second chances.

A new look at Jimmy Porter. February 2012, Manhattan.

Lots of times when Arthur and I go to the theater, whatever show we’re seeing, he’s seen it before. And most times, he was there for the first run. 

"So, have you ever seen Look Back in Anger,” I asked last week as we wheeled into Laura Pels Theatre.

"Showah. John Osborne," he said raising his eyebrows. "I hated it."

"But you bought the tickets!"

He shrugged.

Luckily, this time around, it was wonderful. Or, as Arthur said during intermission, wondahful. No real signs of feeling lost during it either, thank goodness.

Here’s to second chances.