A phrase I have heard quite seemingly countless times from the company I’ve kept over the years. And it’s fair question! As much as possible…“it” is a musical.

Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.

July 2026 has proven two things:

1. People still go to movie theaters

2. Greek mythology is not dead

While an estimated 7.5 million people made the pilgrimage to a movie theater to see Christopher Nolan’s take on Homer’s epic over it’s opening weekend, almost 700,000 people made their way to one of only 2,000 theaters nation-wide to see Anaïs Mitchell’s poetic journey to the underworld, Hadestown.

Developed with and directed for the stage by Rachel Chavkin, Hadestown’s live capture or “pro-shot” was slated to be in movie theaters for 5 days. The folk-pop musical with americana and New Orleans jazz roots tells a tale of two Greek myths, the stories of Hades and Persephone and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, and is set in a sort-of post-apocalyptic great depression. Featuring a consistently diverse cast of multi-talented actors and musicians, the show has invited audiences from Vermont, to Broadway, to London and Seoul, to imagine what the world could be.

Though it won many a tony in 2019 and has a giant fan-base, by some stroke of (the) fate(s), I missed the boat and saw Hadestown for the first time in a movie theater this past Tuesday…and Wednesday.

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I was carrying two particularly full bags of Trader Joes groceries and making the trek back to my apartment. Dripping sweat, I waited for the white person to replace the red hand on the southwest side of the intersection. As soon as it turned, okay, fine, just before, I started to cross. Halfway across the street, my biggest fear became reality: the bag in my right hand broke and my groceries fell right there in the center of the street.

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It’s a funny thing to observe this person that you’ve consistently chosen to remain in your life despite the fact that it takes three months to organize being in the same place at the same time. A lot can happen in three months. At one particular such meeting with a friend I couldn’t help but notice she looked the most herself that I had ever seen her. And we had been friends for around ten years at this point - I’ve seen a lot of versions of her. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Her skin always glowed, but today her radiance seemed to come from within. Her hair, like always, effortlessly fell in its perfect natural texture against her ribbed turtleneck albeit hitting a bit lower than she had grown it in the past. And somehow, her always genuine crooked smile was even more glorious. But it was the same smile, just somehow grown in harnessing her own peacefulness. I relish the opportunity to watch her grow. I think of the small changes I notice since the last coffee and the much bigger changes in the way she is speaking about her life experience from when we met two coffees ago.

All 12 ounces down the hole, we got up to leave the cafe and go for a walk. We grabbed our coats and we put on her sunglasses. I had a new pair that I wasn’t sure I liked and she had the pair I can’t remember her without. That’s the thing about her - even with the many changes life brings, she’s the kind of person who wears one pair of sunglasses.

She sat in front of me; the oldest I had never seen her, and yet the youngest she will ever be again. She seemed “more settled” her own body now but her essence was still captured through her unique consistencies. She never strays too far from her own person - at least on the outside. Even as we continue to grow up, she knows who she is and she keeps running back to her almost as if she embraces her younger self and brings her along. She’s the type of woman who builds on the last chapter without dramatic departure from the plot. Maybe it’s simply the contrast to the constant state of change I experience, but I’ve always admired this about her.

As we arrived to Fort Green Park, my mind remained fixated on the glasses. The only logical conclusion that there are two types of people in the world:

1. People who own one pair of sunglasses

2. People who wear sunglasses for a few weeks or months at a time and then change

We’re walking, we’re talking… and my distracted mind wanders as I grapple with the idea that there are people like her, who have always had a piece of peace in who they are throughout the twists and turns of life, and then their are people like me: switching out sunglasses akin to trying on lives. We can’t commit. We haven’t found what fits our face or vibe. We haven’t found something that will go everywhere with us. We aren’t sure. We’re chasing differing parts of our personality hoping one wil feel the most true at some point. Right?

There’s a confidence that comes with committing to pair of sunglasses, as crazy as it sounds. Even more so in my mind than the confidence that comes in trimming down your closet to the perfect capsule wardrobe. There are still multiple outfits within a capsule wardrobe. You may be harnessing your own personal style in a refined fashion (no pun intended), but it’s not going to be the same outfit that you wear as the seasons (of weather but also of life) change by the next time you see your coffee friend again three months from now. You could break up with your partner, you could start a new lease, you could get a new job but you’ll grab the same pair of sunglasses through it all - if you are that kind of person.

I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t listening to her - though she would be right, of course - so I blurted out to her this brewing fascination with the sunglasses theory.

She said: “It’s funny you remember my glasses. Every time I see you, I look forward to what sunglasses you will be wearing this quarter.”

We both laughed and agreed that we could use 12 more ounces hence forth making our walk back to the cafe. We took our coats off and before she left for the bathroom she set her sunglasses on the table next to her scarf. To admire someone’s uniqueness as it’s settled within the bounds of their own consistency is real. We all want to be more ourselves.

She’s confident enough to wear her perfect pair of sunglasses every day but not confident enough to spend time and energy (and resources!) on something that might not be as good. Simultaneously occupying the same space and time as we continue to grow up, I keep trying new pairs. Internally, I feel myself wavering within the definition of my own visage each time I move on to a new form of expression but what she sees is someone taking risks to get closer to peace - not someone who hasn’t yet found what they are looking for. The next time I see her, we will have both changed and stayed the same.

“2 Coffees for Caroline!”

The first really beautiful summer day…that is…perfect.

3. A golden hour pool party. With an unironic keg!

4. The feeling of “finally, I am going home.” And it being real. Yes, you have a home and, yes, it is finally.

5. Listening to the Nick Offerman Good Hang Episode for the 12th time.

6. A friend saying “can I share an irrational fear with you just so you can debunk it for me.” Yes, please!

7. Giving away concert tickets when you find out you’ll be out of town. Someone you love has the fun night AND they likely send photo or video.

8. A really good sandwich (I had one on Nantucket @ Born and Bread and I cannot stop thinking about it “BB Egg Sandy” if you are headed to ACK - and they have gluten-free bread!). Anyone else think “sandwich” is a food group?

   

9. Going on a boat. I’m convinced time on the water could fix most anything.

10. Remembering you can freeze green grapes!! Incredible.

can’t wait for july

xx

This isn’t really a post about Steve Martin (that will be a different piece), it is more so about his longtime friend and collaborator Martin Short.

My first introduction to the work of both actors was through the Father of the Bride movies. Still to this day, perhaps my favorite series of all time. If you have been living under a rock, I think most anyone would enjoy FOB and you should watch Part 1 and Part 2 as soon as possible. Personally, it was my first exposure to “make you laugh and cry in 90 minutes” and it is fabulous. Short plays a flamboyant wedding planner and Martin plays - you guessed it - the father of the bride. Nancy Meyers directed, Diane Keaton soars as Nina Banks. Just fantastic. When I was 10 or so and falling in love with the movies, I had no idea the prolific careers these actors had previously to FOB. To me, Steve will always be George Banks and Martin Short will always be Fronk. In fact, kills me a little every time someone mentions that they know Martin Short as “the old guy who wears scarves in Only Murders in The Building”. As if this it’s the first and only thing he’s done. Are you kidding??

Only Murders in The Building (OMITB), by some weird twist of the universe has brought the work of Steve Martin and Martin Short (who is certainly the lesser known of the two) to a completely new audience. But I have always felt, for my age group, that knowing them through FOB as a child and going on to watching their work in Three Amigos, and watching and rewatching their SNL days, etc… that I have been in on the secret of both of their genius for a long time. They are the “funniest of the funny people” (thank you Amy Poehler for this phrase) and have been for decades.

Martin Short and Steve Martin in recent years have built a standup comedy show centered around their friendship and the signs of aging. I once drive three hours each way by myself to see it in person. Not long after, a filmed version was released… it’s certainly worth a watch. Basically just a roast. My main takeaway was that growing old can’t be that bad if you choose funny friends to grow old with.

Marty, Life is Short

When Marty, Life is Short, the documentary on Martin Short’s life and work, came out just last month I was excited to learn more about his life to compliment his work that I have so enjoyed over the years and what little I knew about him. I did know that both of his sons attended Notre Dame, my alma mater, which does completely check out. Go Irish!

As you follow the chronological recounting of his rise to prominence through Godspell in Toronto, Second City, SNL, and so forth…the part I found most interesting were Marty’s, we will call him “Marty” for the rest of this piece, home videos.

Wow, do I wish I were a fly on the wall at Marty Short’s cottage circa 1995.

Most of the videos showcased his beloved Canadian lake-side cottage in Snug Harbor. One might think that the Short Family home videos would feature Marty being hilarious. You’d think. But instead, he is always behind the camera. Sometimes with a pithy comment, but he is always focused on his wife, his children, his friends - he is captivated by the love and luck in his life. And there’s video proof! For someone who illustrates what it means to have a community-centric life - that he created! - you understand through his videos that he kind of…in real time…couldn’t believe it just how good it was?

The telling of Marty’s life through his home videos in which we never saw his face reminded me of the video compilation I made my senior year of college cataloguing my friends and I’s last semester together. There was barely any footage of me in the half hour long video (editing! caroline!) but anyone could tell that the person behind the camera felt like the luckiest person alive. I watch it back once every year an a half-ish to make sure it really happened. I really had that much fun and got to be around all the best people? Even if for a time, the video reminds me that it’s true.

As someone who finds the most joy in striving for a community-centric life, watching Marty’s home videos has me thinking…is it really that simple? Be good to people. Fall in love. Love your neighbor and roast s’mores with their kids by the lake. Laugh.

Actually, I think it is more complicated. Here we go. What you come to learn about Marty through the interviews with his friends that interject between home videos is that his life is marked by an intense series of profound loss on top of the intense struggles of becoming a performer. He lost his parents at an early age. He lost his oldest brother (and personal hero) at an early age. None of these three got to see him achieve any success or meet his wife and children of whom he was so proud. Amidst all this sorrow that came in tsunamis, Marty has been known throughout his whole life for a joy that is so overwhelming it is his whole personality. In hearing from his friends, we know that everyone just wanted to be around him. They knew they would laugh. They knew he wouldn’t judge. They knew he had been through the mill and had come out the other end. Around his thriving marriage and family life, Marty built a community-centric life in which he somehow invited everyone else into the madness of living vividly.

I think the key to living a community-centric life might just be suffering well. I am not talking about suffering for suffering’s sake, that is a waste. Objectively. True suffering that comes with real grief and interconnectedness with other humans reminds you that you are part of a greater ecosystem. There is so much out of our control. One thing we do know is that suffering always comes next to joy. Love does not exist in the absence of grief but because of it. We learn in the documentary that Marty faced immense hardship in trying to become what he is today but even more so in experiencing the tragic loss of his mother, father, and brother all before age 20. Then his beloved wife. And just recently his daughter.

Throughout the screening, I found myself thinking: through all of this loss and pain, how does he keep going? How has he KEPT going for years? And made a career out of comedy? I think its more than Irish ancestry and the tendency we all have to laugh and cry and make art. What continues to make him magnetic?

He suffers well. He understands what it is to need another person and be needed by another person. Grief, love, suffering, joy… all exist if we understand we belong to each other - for as long as we have on this Earth. He finds his way through and he has the magnetic energy to bring everyone he loves with him. Through the darkness. He’s going to be okay because he has to be okay. Look at the memories HE captured on super8 video. It was REAL. The magic of being alive. He knows true love and true suffering and knows it’s all connected. These are all guesses. Marty, if you’re reading this, feel free to debunk.

In addition to suffering well, the other thing I found particularly fascinating is his range of relationships. In a world where I am embarrassed for the text messages that light up my phone and I do not read until weeks later, he managed to cultivate a group of friends that wanted to spend time together as adults. Oof. Adult friendship. No obligations, not family ties. A group of people that thought being together with their spouses and children and their friends was worthy of time and effort.

From what we can see (leaning perhaps too much on these home videos), having friends as an adult didn’t hinder his ability to parent. Being a devoted husband and father didn’t stop him from making new friends and keeping old ones. And his career…didn’t stop on account of the roller-coaster of life. Whether he knew it at the time or not, everything was working together to allow him to build a community in which he could endure suffering because he knew what was around him to be true and good. Grief didn’t consume him and make him afraid to connect. Instead, knowing real love and connection, despite it’s brevity in some cases, made him more apt to form connections and community. Marty understood from early adulthood that connections and being a “connector” is worth it - despite the risk of grief and loss.

One could say “Oh no, he just doesn’t take life too seriously. It’s not that deep.”

No, Karen, it in fact is that deep.

Cliche perhaps, but part of his magnetic personality is simply the attractive quality of having a clear understanding of what is important in life. He’s the one with the cottage - so people can come to visit. He’s the one with the camera - so he can have proof life really is this good. Again cliche…but he’s laughing and doing characters, because he is aware it won’t always be like this. There will be pain too. So might as well carpe-freaking-diem.

It was interesting when the camera would pan to the different people in his life, how they would light up. Tom Hanks, whom I tend to think of as too cool for school, giggles, giggles (!), when the camera pans to him. Wow, to think that Tom Hanks, mega superstar, seems to think it’s the best thing ever that Marty wanted to film him. Their children running around also in the shot. Life happens all at the same time. “Wow, me?” The feeling you recall from elementary school years when your “best friend” saves you a seat on the bus. He makes everyone feel special and seen, in the ultimate humanistic ways we want to be special and seen.

Everyone wanted to be at the Christmas Party Marty and Nancy threw. Hell, I want to be at those parties of yester year! The annual party, so the documentary goes on to note, had to move to an off-site venue because the Short family home became too small for the guest list. But what was more important? Not showing off the house, but everyone they invited being there. Duh. Come on, Karen. That one was low hanging fruit. Arguably a charism of Marty and Nancy as a couple, from the little we discover, they seemed to thrive when the focus was not on them. They had people perform, literally come with acts to perform for the group, at their Christmas Party. This is important.

For obvious reasons, I cannot imagine the showcase of talent donned that living room. I wonder what kind of song Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn performed to earn their keep?

But it’s important when we think about building community-centric lives as adults. Offering a place and an opportunity for the good people you know to be together and be joyful is a crucial step in the direction of the good life. And the other part of this is having a deep appreciation for the humans you collect. Collecting humans, an essay to come, so much on that. To cultivate community when the odds are against you (odds being that we continue to grow up and lead divergent, busy and increasingly self and nuclear family-lives) you have to know you need more than you. Continuing to grow community and keep participation a main event in your life…there’s got to be at least one “connector.” That person is often the most tired, but the most fulfilled.

Steve Martin (ah, finally) opened the documentary by sharing the following about his lifelong friend:

“I’ll tell you something about Marty.

Let’s say you’re going to host a dinner party. And you invite Marty.

And then it turns out Marty can’t come.

You cancel the party.”

Wow. Isn’t a summary of that what we all want on our gravestone?

These people, connectors, are special creatures. What comes to mind is my friend Jack. Jack is magnetic. He’s smart, interesting, easy to talk to, and finds something in common with everyone. There are few people in this life whom I admire more. And from the data (life the last 10 years) it seems the general public agrees! I distinctly remember one birthday party I had and for whatever reason (debated to this day, I wish I were different) he couldn’t come. I felt what Steve Martin so accurately summed up. I wanted to cancel the party.

Okay, yes, I knew part of this feeling was that he was my favorite dance partner and I had spent all day thinking about what songs we could pick to convince everyone to get on the dance floor with us. But I knew it simply would not be as fun. I wanted the memories we made that night to have my pal in them! But moreso, I knew people I wanted to come would come if they knew Jack was coming. I knew that if Jack came, he would make sure that invited guests that were potentially more socially-awkward felt comfortable and would have a good time. I needed him to allow the social plan of the night to happen naturally.

There have been many more parties (it was only that one he didn’t come to!) and we have danced many a night away creating the some of my most treasured memories. Thank you, Jack!! I share this anecdote just allude to the power of connectors. They have a unique ability to step back and understand that people might benefit from knowing one another and they have the skills - and the general where-with-all, key - to create opportunities for people to meet. That’s surface level. On a deeper level, connectors understand the interconnectedness we as humans crave…at every age but especially as we age. And by the transitive property, if they understand we all belong to each other, chances are they have known suffering critical to the magnification of human experience. And if they know suffering, it’s possible their perspective is enlightened by suffering and the knowledge of true love and luck this life contains. And there you have it, these people are attractive.

I really admire connectors and I am OH SO grateful for them. For the spirit they share and as a result use to inspire others to be connectors - whether it be consciously or subconsciously.

We want to know them, be them, and habituate within their orbits. Why? Whether consciously or subconsciously, some part of everyone wants to live a good life. And life is better…together? Ugh, the corn dog of it all.

So in Short (get it? Oof.), we learned more about Martin Short from footage he was not in. But instead through footage he took perhaps to remind himself that he worked for that community, he worked to cultivate a life in which he brought everyone with him through love and loss each of them experiences. No matter what. His footage was proof that his work cultivating a community-centric life was not in vain but in fact the whole point. His work was good. For him, for his wife and children. For his friends who became friends with his friends. For the chosen family he and Nancy cultivated together.

Get off the phone. Leave your house. Call your friends who live far away. Host a party. Write letters. Tell people you know someone they should know because “both of you are so great”. Why? Because adult friendship doesn’t just happen. Life is busy. I might actually be the first person to say it. But I want to be the kind of person who continues to build a life alongside a career, family, and personal goals. And humbly, I’d like to do it with the best people. I know this goal is lofty, but it is my responsibility to puruse - just as it is yours.

If we lean into human interconnectedness, we keep every day magic in our lives. That’s when we laugh. And wow, there is simply nothing better than laughing with people who see you for who you are and relish in the opportunity to invite you to share in their life. May we strive to live a life ready to laugh with the people we hope will hang around and do this “living thing” with us.

Keep the humor as silly as possible. It invites people in. And keeps people together.

Oh and Marty, this year, if happen you host a Christmas party, do you think there might be room for one more?

MAY 2026

1. Peony season.

2. A friend saying “come stay with us” when I casually bring up the need for a change of scenery.

3. Rediscovering an old favorite band.

4. Getting the notification that a professional hero viewed my LinkedIn profile.

5. A “bricked” phone for 72 hours straight. (not sponsored, should be)

6. Teaching a 3 year old to say “Thank you, God” every time he sees a “pretty flower.”

7. Hearing someone say “life wouldn’t be this fun without you.”

8. People who order Mother’s Day Flowers from their local flower shop. (read: NOT Urbanstems, not 1-800-flowers) Loving your mom or a mother-figure in this way is a personality trait that sets individuals a cut about the rest.

9. Daily Mass.

10. Working late-night with Dad - glancing over at his concentration and thinking (for the 128947325483x time) that Dads are the best, and personally, I might just have the best one.

11. Bonus! Being pleasantly surprised when peony season is longer than you think

Realizing that the month of May is really about flowers…

“Do you have one?”

“Do you live together?”

“How long have you been dating?”

And my personal favorite “How did you meet?”

Honestly, even if I’ve heard the story before, I really do love hearing how people meet. I hold my breath every time the story commences to brace myself in anticipation of hearing “Oh, on Hinge.” I’m always DELIGHTED when there is no mention of a dating app in 2026. My favorite stories are always slow burn. You know, when there’s an actual plot. I also love a meet-cute. But I will take anything if the person sharing really seems to believe their story is magic. I guess I just don’t understand why anyone would be nonchalant about love. You have one life. Anyway…

Often single, when it was my turn to answer I used to say “I’m in a relationship with New York City and it’s been so long, I can’t remember when it really s…

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One grandfather, “granddad,” was an orphan growing up in Hell’s Kitchen in the 1930s. From what my mother tells me, people called him “red” because of his curly red hair. He was 50 when my mother was born, and my mother was 40 when I was born. So unfortunately I never saw the hair nor knew the spirit he was known for; an optimism that is only known to people who have known true suffering. My hair has always had a little red (a friend once said “in a room full of gingers you have brown hair, in a room with no ginger, you have some ginger” oof) and has given me even the smallest connection to him over the years He worked odd jobs growing up but in the end, he ended up doing quite …

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