Ten songs. Ten years since we lost him.

And sitting there listening, the word that kept coming back

to me was the one they chose for the title:

Timeless.

What struck me was how clearly you could hear Prince experimenting with sound — yet always sounding completely sure of himself. And maybe even more remarkable: almost any of these songs could be released today, on their own, and sound current.

“I Am You,” from 1977, has that early Minneapolis funk sound — a driving groove and a young artist already figuring out exactly who he was.

David Rivkin — better known as David Z — was the recording engineer on this one, which makes its place as the first song on the album feel all the more significant. David sadly passed away earlier this month. A little Minneapolis music history: his younger brother Bobby Z was Prince’s drummer in The Revolution; David was a member of Lipps, Inc., most famous for “Funkytown,” and later produced Fine Young Cannibals’ “She Drives Me Crazy.”

So having his work there at the very beginning of Timeless just feels right.

Then comes “Tick Tick Bang,” from 1981 — fast, furious, high energy.

Think about the music that came out around then: Adam and the Ants released “Stand and Deliver.” Depeche Mode gave us “Just Can’t Get Enough.” And Prince himself released Controversy.

You can hear how “Tick Tick Bang” might have lived alongside that record — although maybe it wasn’t quite funky enough to make the cut. Still, it is a GREAT track.

In “Heaven,” recorded in 1985, I hear that unmistakable Erotic City-era Prince. I immediately thought about how easily those two songs could have lived next to each other. “Heaven” feels like it could have been one hell of a B-side.

Then comes “I Wonder,” from 1989.

This one has that groove and swing I love — stacked vocals, layers upon layers, Prince playing with sound. The vocals remind me of what I love about “Diamonds and Pearls” and “7.”

And this is the first song on Timeless recorded at Paisley Park.

So now we’re not only hearing Prince’s musical evolution — we’re hearing him inside the creative world he built for himself.

Side note: If you are a music fan and ever find yourself in the Twin Cities, GO TO PAISLEY PARK. And pay the money for the Super VIP tour.

It is worth it.

Just look at my smile.

“With This Tear,” from 1991, appears next on the album.

Prince originally wrote the song for Céline Dion, reportedly after hearing her sing on the “Beauty and the Beast” soundtrack.

I’ve always thought Prince’s ballad writing gets overshadowed by the flashier stuff — the funk, the sex, the clothes, the guitar, the swagger. But some of my favorite Prince songs are the ballads.

“Adore.”

“Do Me, Baby.”

“Sometimes It Snows in April.”

And “With This Tear” belongs in that conversation.

Strings. Orchestration. A huge, sweeping sound.

It reminds you that underneath all of the spectacle, Prince could write a melody that simply broke your heart.

The album keeps moving.

“Stone” takes us to 1995 — and the song just swings.

“Calabama,” from 2003, may be my favorite cut on the entire album. The bass line. The drums. The NPG horns. It's pure, irresistible funk.

“The Guilty Ones” was recorded in 2007 — the same year as Prince’s legendary Super Bowl performance.

This song is about the guitar.

And Prince’s mastery of it.

This may be the one song on the album that makes me most wish he were still alive because I want to SEE him play it live.

You can imagine Prince onstage and Lenny Kravitz walks out. Or Gary Clark Jr. Or Marcus King — Prince would have loved Marcus King, I’m sure of it — and suddenly they’re just trading guitar solos and going completely crazy. The estate released a video for this one — edited by my partner in crime Tine - be sure to give it a watch.

“Bestest Friend” brings us to 2012. I love the lyrics on this one, and the rhythmic piano chords make me think of “The Beautiful Ones.”

The last track on the album comes from 2016

A live performance of “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore?” from Prince’s Piano & a Microphone tour.

Before that tour, Prince said:

“I’m doing it to challenge myself, I won’t know what songs I’m going to do when I go on stage. I won’t have to, because I won’t have a band.”

Prince died one week after the final show of that tour.

That one hit differently.

Because suddenly you realize we have traveled almost forty years with him.

And the Oakland recording reminds you of something else that sometimes gets lost when we talk about the albums, the clothes, the guitar playing, and the mystique:

Prince knew how to work a crowd.

He didn’t just perform for you. Somehow, he made you perform with him.

That may be what stayed with me most about Timeless.

Prince’s music changed constantly because he changed constantly. He absorbed funk, rock, punk, R&B, jazz, pop, gospel, hip-hop — whatever interested him — without ever disappearing inside somebody else’s sound.

Growing up in the Twin Cities, the rumor was always that Prince had this enormous vault and could pull out an album in practically any genre at the drop of a hat.

I have absolutely no idea if that’s true.

But if Timeless is our first taste of what else is sitting in that vault?

I cannot wait to hear what other treats await us.

Maybe that’s what it really means to be timeless.

Not that your music never changes.

That you never stop changing — while somehow never sounding like anybody but yourself.

When Did Being Offensive Become Cool?

Much has already been said and written about the awful Good Good Golf x Callaway ad that was pulled after showing a man pushing a woman to the ground, standing over her and threatening her over a golf club.

And the thing I cannot get out of my mind is this:

How does that idea even make it into the room?

Forget for a moment whether the intent was parody, satire, provocation, or “outrage marketing.”

At what point does someone watch a woman being pushed to the ground and threatened and say:

Yeah. That’s entertainment.

That’s marketing.

People are going to go OOOOOH.

How?

And it made me think about something bigger.

When did doing the unthinkable — or saying the intentionally offensive thing — become cool?

There is this increasingly popular idea that I can say the thing people used to tell me I couldn’t say. I can do the thing that might have gotten me “canceled.” I can offend you because I want to.

And sure.

You have freedom of speech.

But freedom has never meant freedom from consequences.

Somewhere along the way, though, we started treating consequences like they were the problem.

Someone says or does something deeply offensive, and suddenly the conversation becomes: Well, are we really going to SHAME them? Are we going to CANCEL them?

Maybe those aren’t always the right answers.

But I worry about the opposite extreme too.

What happens when a society stops holding its own members accountable in the name of “freedom”?

I’m not advocating censorship.

I am advocating responsibility.

Because freedom and responsibility are supposed to travel together.

Not just in this ad, but in a lot of places, it feels like we have forgotten the second half of that equation.

We have a responsibility to demand a world where we treat each other with respect and kindness. Where truth still matters. Where humility matters. Where being provocative isn’t automatically confused with being brave … or even worse, “a joke”

Maybe this ad becomes a flashpoint.

Maybe the marketers, content creators, and media messengers sitting in rooms trying to figure out what will make the sale, drive clicks, garner engagement, or rack up views stop for one extra second and ask:

Yes, people will watch it. But should we make it? Is that really energy we want to put out in the world?

Those are two very different questions.

Creator I’m Watching: Cederick Campbell

There is a creator I have to put you onto this week: Cederick Campbell.

Here's the link to his site.

He talks about fashion through the lens of architecture — proportion, shape, structure, balance, silhouette — and I am OBSESSED.

It is exactly the kind of content I love because after watching it, you don’t just think, Oh, I like that outfit.

You understand why it works.

Architecture + fashion + storytelling.

Check him out.

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I’ll be back here next week - after church, before kickoff. We’re getting closer to NFL season— who are you picking in your fantasy draft? Let me know!

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It’s a running joke between one of my dear friends and me — I’m always saying it: don’t rush the check.

Because sometimes, after all of it — the scramble to get the reservation, the excitement of ordering, the food, the laughter, the funny thing the server said, the oohs and aahs over the perfect dessert — that’s when the best part actually starts.

The deeper conversation. The courage to say something you’re proud of, or worried about, or need help with. The moment someone takes a breath and finally says the thing they’ve been holding all night.

Sometimes that’s when the real talking begins.

In college, we called it the “two-minute warning.” That was when someone tried to get up too fast, before the conversation had actually finished.

I feel like we live in two-minute-warning culture now.

Back-to-backs. A quick dinner before the next thing. Running from one event to another. Scheduled within an inch of our lives.

But not in Spain. Even when you finally ask for the check, you shouldn’t expect it anytime soon.

And I loved it.

Maybe “don’t rush the check” was never really about dinner.

Maybe it’s about leaving enough room in our lives for the good stuff to happen after we thought the evening was over, before rushing to the next thing.

Back in the concrete jungle, I was lucky enough to have a friend invite me to see Olivia Dean at Madison Square Garden — and from Dive to Easy to Fall in Love to Man I Need, this was a nearly perfect concert.

Her full band was tight and energetic. Olivia was in stunning voice.

But what stayed with me was what she said between the songs.

She talked about how her album The Art of Loving was inspired in part by reading bell hooks — and about the idea that love is a craft. Something we have to practice and work at.

Not just romantic love. All of it.

The love between friends. Between families. Between neighbors. Between people who may not have much in common at all.

I keep thinking about that.

We talk all the time about becoming excellent at our work. Excellent athletes. Excellent artists. Excellent leaders.

But what about becoming excellent at loving?

What if we practiced it the way an athlete practices — intentionally, consistently, even when it’s hard?

Loving your neighbor. Loving the struggling. Loving the people who are easy to overlook. Even finding some grace for the people who aren’t particularly easy to love.

Keeping love as an action verb in our vocabulary.

I think it could change things.

If Olivia Dean is coming to your city — run, don’t walk. 10/10 no notes.

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It’s a Great Time to Be a Sports Fan

We’re about to turn the corner into one of my favorite times of the year. Tennis, baseball, the WNBA playoff race, and football are all colliding — and I’m here for all of it.

🎾 US Open

The star power at Flushing Meadows this year is something else.

Serena Williams is back at the US Open, teaming with Carlos Alcaraz in mixed doubles — a pairing I cannot wait to watch. Venus is back in the singles draw, and after seeing the Williams sisters together in Cincinnati, I’m still holding out hope we get another Serena-Venus doubles appearance in New York.

And then there’s the men’s draw.

Carlos returns to defend his title after months away with a wrist injury. Jannik Sinner is out with a knee injury, which changes the landscape considerably — and I’m hoping this might finally be the year we see an American man make a deep run.

The talent is there.

And before we even get to Flushing Meadows, tonight’s Cincinnati finals give us one last appetizer: Jessica Pegula vs. Coco Gauff and Frances Tiafoe vs. Arthur Fils.

🏀 WNBA

The playoff race is heating up, and yes, I’m biased, but watch out for the Liberty.

It hasn’t been their easiest season, but I watched last night’s win over the Fever, and this New York team finally looks like it’s getting its pieces back after dealing with injuries.

Could they be getting healthy, heating up, and gelling at exactly the right time?

I’m not counting them out.

Minnesota still looks like the team to beat to me — sorry, Aces fans hoping for a repeat — and Golden State has been fantastic. Thursday’s Liberty-Valkyries matchup should be another very good test for New York.

Who’s your pick to win it all?

⚾ Baseball

My eyes will be on Yankees-Red Sox at the end of the week. There are few things better than a meaningful late-summer series between those two teams.

Classic rivalry. Yankee Stadium. Pennant races starting to get serious. Wildcard bids at stake.

🏈 And Here Comes Football…

The NFL is almost back.

Which means fantasy football leagues everywhere are about to start drafting — including mine — and I am currently reading every “10 Keys to Winning Your Draft” article I can find as though there is going to be a test.

So tell me:

Who’s the one player you’re hoping falls to you in your fantasy draft?

Cat’s Thought of the Week

Two of my mentors told me back in 2024 that I should do more public speaking.

At the time I thought: Sure. Sounds great. But when exactly would I have time to do that?

Funny how things change.

So when a representative from the New York City Department of Social Services asked me to speak alongside four other women for their Women’s Equality Day event, I jumped at the chance.

The theme was “Give to Gain,” and there was one thought from my speech that I want to leave with you this week:

You do not have to be the CEO to make an impact on someone’s future.

You can make the introduction.

You can recommend someone for the opportunity.

You can offer the advice.

You can say the encouraging thing.

You can make room at the table.

Or maybe you can simply stay at the table a little longer when someone needs to talk.

Keep that in mind this week as you move about the world.

Don’t rush the check.

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If you enjoyed this week’s Cat’s Corner, please share it with a friend — and I’ll see you back here next week, after church and before kickoff.

About a year ago, one of my dearest friends told me she wanted to celebrate her birthday on a boat off the coast of Mallorca, watching a total solar eclipse.

I’ll be honest with you, I was not first in line to raise my hand.

It sounded beautiful. It sounded like a dream. But the money. The time. A girl has bills, responsibilities, and a company to build. I was a late responder — and even when I said yes, there was a quiet asterisk somewhere in my heart: sure, sounds fun, we’ll see.

But the stars — quite literally — aligned.

There we were: fourteen of us, a beautiful mix of old friends, family, and people I had only just met, on a boat with Captain Tino, who positioned us in exactly the right spot on the water. I had made a playlist — and somehow, it timed perfectly to the moment of totality.

And then it happened.

I have covered eclipses. I have been in dark control rooms, headset on, calling shots, making sure the pictures read right for the audience at home. I have produced eclipses — as content to be captured and delivered.

I have never just... sat. And watched. And felt something that big and that quiet move through me all at once.

Fourteen people. All of us still for those few minutes. All of us looking up at the exact same thing.

A quick aside for my spiritually-inclined readers: the Lion’s Gate portal — which opens every year in early August when Sirius rises with the sun in Leo — had just peaked four days before our eclipse. One guide I met offered an interpretation I’m choosing to embrace: she says this year’s portal stays open all the way until NEXT YEAR’S eclipse. Scientific? No. An excellent excuse to take a leap? Absolutely. LET’S GOOOOOO.

Here is what I know now that I didn’t know a year ago: sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is say yes to someone else’s vision. You don’t have to fully understand it. You don’t have to feel certain. You just have to trust that a person you love thought it was worth doing — and let that be enough to get you on the boat.

Because sometimes, in helping someone else fulfill their dream, you find one you didn’t even know you had.

Start making your plans for Egypt.

A total solar eclipse will cross North Africa on August 2, 2027 — and Egypt is in the path of totality. I’m serious. Don’t be a late responder... and if you’re planning to go, hit me up - I just may join you. :)

A Story You Should Know

On Friday, Professor Jason Arday was found dead at his home in south London. He was 41 years old. He had been the youngest Black professor in the history of the University of Cambridge when he was appointed in 2023 — a breathtaking milestone for a man who, because of autism, was unable to speak until he was 11 years old.

In the weeks before his death, he had resigned from Cambridge under the weight of a very public plagiarism scandal. The coverage of his death has been enormous. What much of it has not told you is this: the university that awarded his doctorate — Liverpool John Moores — investigated the original plagiarism allegation and upheld its decision to award him his PhD. That finding existed, even as Cambridge later opened separate inquiries into other questions surrounding his academic record. Yet much of the coverage has overshadowed that finding with the allegations themselves.

His family released a statement calling what he experienced “a campaign of sustained abuse” and “misinformation.” His Cambridge colleague Professor Simon Baron-Cohen told the BBC that Arday “wasn’t coping with the loss of his career, the loss of his reputation, and he felt he couldn’t go on.” Arday himself said when he resigned that it should not “be mistaken for an acceptance of the narratives that have surrounded me.”

We do not yet know all the circumstances of his death. But we do know what relentless public scrutiny did to a living human being, because he and the people closest to him told us.

I am a journalist. I know how hard and how fast these stories move. I know that context gets lost in the rush. But Jason Arday was a real person; the media onslaught he endured was far from in the public’s interest - and lasted entirely too long. Jason was a father, a partner, a son, and he deserved the full story told about him while he was still alive to see it. We owe that to him now. Read more about who he was before all of this. His story of getting here is extraordinary. Holly Robinson Peete was collaborating with Jason his journey for a book. I hope she gets to complete it.

Cat’s Culture Picks

Avengers Assemble

The second Avengers: Doomsday trailer dropped at D23 this weekend, and I have thoughts. Robert Downey Jr. is back — not as Tony Stark, but as the villain Doctor Doom — and the Russo Brothers have assembled what might be the most staggering cast in MCU history: Chris Evans back as Steve Rogers, the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, the Thunderbolts, seemingly everyone who has ever appeared in a Marvel film showing up to face down Doom’s army of Sentinel robots. My read? Steve Rogers going back in time may have helped mess up Doom’s world, and the children of our beloved Avengers may have to pay for Dr Doom’s loss in the multiverse. December 18 feels very far away— but my pal Randy has already snagged us tickets…. and it can’t get here soon enough. Are you excited for this next chapter in the Marvel Universe?

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Support Your Local Journalist

I missed seeing my NABJ colleagues at this year’s convention — shout-out to all who went - presented, shared knowledge, networked - and got their groove on at the annual Sports Task Force Party (iykyk). In a media landscape that keeps contracting, I cannot say this enough: Supporting journalism also means demanding good journalism — fair, rigorous, contextual journalism. Support the ones you know are doing that - read and watch with a critical eye. Subscribe and share the work of those who are really doing the work. The journalists covering your city, your school board, your neighborhood, they need you right now, and you need them more than you know.

Try This

Olive Oils from Mallorca

Those who know me know this - I hate olives - but I was told the best olive oil comes from Spain, plus - my favorite Doc - Dr. Jennifer Ashton wrote about the benefits of Extra Virgin Olive Oil in her weekly newsletter, Ajenda - here’s a link . So I booked an EVOO tasting - and it was glorious - hearing about the origins and tasting the different types of olive oils - plus tasting chocolate truffle made from olive oil - AMAZING

Thanks for joining me this week—please share this with anyone else who might enjoy it, and I’ll be back next week—after church, before tip-off.

I took some time off this summer — and it’s been great. But minicamp started this week, so it’s time to get back to being in touch with you all.

And I know I said Knicks in 6 — but I’ll take Knicks in 5! (And if you know me, I find at least one moment a day since the win to say it!!) What an incredible run for a great team. What a time to live in NYC. And with LeBron joining the Sixers, the East should be a lot of fun this season.

A lot has happened since we were last together — but what stopped me this week was the power of forgiveness.

A few weeks ago, I woke up to news that a friend had died suddenly. We last saw each other at Blondies — during the Knicks' playoff run. He had come in to grab a quick dinner and leave before the bar got super crowded and crazy in all the best ways. My phone was pinging with texts as our friend group found out, and as the haze of just waking up faded, I reflected on our friendship and felt a twinge of regret. See, this friend and I had had a falling out — over a decade ago. It wasn’t one of those drama-filled falling outs with yelling and screaming. It was a calm conversation: “You really hurt my feelings, and I’m not sure us being friends right now makes sense.”

Since that conversation, many things had happened in both of our lives — and through mutual friends and social media, we generally knew what was happening in each other’s lives. He had told other friends he hoped we could reconcile, but he also understood and was giving me space. Recently, in the last year, the space between us was growing smaller. We’d see each other and chat — about the NFL, the NBA, my career, a documentary he was working on, his career, the weather. And when I started this Substack, he was one of the first to sign up; there wasn’t a column I’d write that he wouldn’t text or note me about: “Really liked what you wrote this week.” “When you wrote about XXX it really spoke to me.” “Keep up the good work.” He had invited me to a show he was acting in — and I had considered going — but that wasn’t meant to be.

That morning, I had a thought: Man, I wish we had more time. I took too long to forgive him.

Mutual friends assured me that I had done nothing wrong — that standing my ground and protecting my peace was the right thing to do. But I can’t help but wonder what conversations I missed out on by holding on, maybe a little too long, to that distance. I’ll never know. But I’ll always think about forgiveness in a new way.

As of this writing, there are still a lot of questions surrounding the death of Nolan Wells — and PLENTY has been written about his death. One story I want to share:

A few years back, I met up with a friend who happens to be white — race is germane to this story, which is why I mention it. I asked him about his son, how he was faring in school, in sports — the usual. And he told me a story about how his son and a friend had gotten into a little trouble. When his son got home, my friend had a long talk with him about how his son’s friend was Black, and he was white, and how — yes, they were boys, and they were going to test limits — but how he was never to leave his Black friend alone. How it was his duty as a friend to make sure his friend was treated fairly. And how sometimes that doesn’t always happen.

I remember trying not to cry as my friend told me this story. I remember how proud I was of him — of him realizing this — of the fact that this particular friend and I had never really talked about race in America, but he got it.

There are good and bad people in the world of every race and creed and in every profession. I believe it’s up to us to protect each other from the bad people. And good people know good people. It’s up to us — no matter what our age — to make sure all of us get home safely each night. It’s also up to us, when we’ve done something wrong — even if there was no ill intent — to own up to it, speak the truth, and deal with the consequences. I hope the Wells family gets the full truth of what happened. And I hope it comes soon.

Cat’s Culture Corner

Spider-Man: Brand New Day

This is an A+ film. Even if you are not a Marvel or superhero fan — this is a great movie to see in an air-conditioned theater on a hot day. Tom Holland is at his best here, playing Peter Parker as he really breaks into adulthood — and I can’t wait to see what he does with Fred Astaire after this. For me, Zendaya is the best MJ of all the franchises — she gives MJ a certain strength and grace, not to mention humor. Mark Ruffalo, Jon Bernthal, Florence Pugh, and yes, Sadie Sink, along with a returning Jacob Batalon and Liza Colón-Zayas from The Bear as Detective Jean DeWolff, and Tramell Tillman round out a very strong cast. This one is worth it — and heck, much easier to get into than The Odyssey at this point!!

Survival of the Thickest / Netflix

Its third — and possibly most personal — season yet. Michelle Buteau and her team have crafted another season of love, fashion, and drama, and it is just beautiful. Particularly Episode Five, where our heroine deals with a heavy subject, conveyed on screen through incredible work from Michelle and the rest of the cast. I’ve been a longtime friend and fan of Michelle, and it’s beautiful to see how she and her career have grown.

The War & Treaty / Tiny Desk

My favorite Americana duo is on fire this month — a new album, a talked-about performance at the BET Awards, a very real interview with Rolling Stone, and this linked Tiny Desk performance. Take a listen. They are some of the most dynamic live performers I’ve ever seen, and they are on tour this fall — take the time to catch them when they’re in your city. Tell them Cat sent you!

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As we enter the last weeks of summer, let me know what you want to hear more about.

Thanks for sticking with me — I’ll be back next week, after church, before kickoff.

I was hiring a DP, a director of photography, for an upcoming shoot. Standard call. We’re talking through the project, the schedule, the rate. And then he asks me something no one in twenty-plus years has ever asked me:

“Is it a sad story we’ll be shooting?”

I stopped. I’d never been asked that before.

He told me he’d been on a run of true-crime shoots lately, back-to-back-to-back, and needed a break from it. The heaviness. The darkness. Sitting inside other people’s worst days for weeks at a time.

He told me that if this had been another one of those, he would have turned down the money.

He would have turned down the work to protect his own mental state.

Here’s a working professional who looked at a paycheck and looked at his own mental health and chose his mental health. That’s not weakness. That’s a grown man who knows what he can and can’t carry right now. He had the self-respect and the courage to say it out loud to a stranger who was about to hire him.

The courage to know that the money will come, but that health is priceless.

We should ALL be so honest. With ourselves, first. And then with each other.

You are Not Alone

If you or someone you know needs help, here are some resources:

• NAMI HelpLine — 800-950-6264 (or text “NAMI” to 62640). Free, confidential, Monday–Friday, 10am–10pm ET. It’s not a crisis line — it’s a real human who can point you to resources, support groups, and answers when you don’t know where to start.

• 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, any time, day or night. If you’re a veteran, press 1.

And one organization close to my own heart: SAVE — Suicide Awareness Voices of Education. I’m proud to sit on their board, and I’ve watched up close the work they do to prevent suicide and support the people left behind by it. If you’re looking for a place to put your dollars this month, they’re a beautiful one. Donate if you can. Share their work if you can’t.

For the Ones Who Served

It’s also Memorial Day.

My dad was a veteran.

We say “thank you for your service”, and we mean it, but the truth is our veterans sometimes need more than a thank-you. They carry things home that most of us will never see. The transition back is hard. The quiet after the service is loud. And too often they’re fighting battles long after the uniform comes off.

So today, by all means, fire up the grill and enjoy the long weekend. But also: reach out to a vet you know. Make the call. Check in, not just today, but next month, and the month after. And if there’s a veteran in your life who’s struggling, that 988, then press 1 line above is for them specifically.

To my dad, my friends who have served, and all the Vets and soldiers who keep us safe and allow us to live the life we live: thank you. We’ve got you

.

Signs From Above

My dad’s birthday was yesterday.

And this past weekend, I was on a shoot when I ran into some old childhood friends and their parents, people I hadn’t seen in ages. Out of nowhere, my friend's mom started talking about my father. About how much she’d appreciated him. About how, when everything around us was going crazy for whatever reason, he was the calm one. The steady one. And how he used to just look at her and say:

“Hey. You have to live your life.”

On his birthday. From a person I hadn’t planned to see. The exact thing I needed to hear.

I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I think if you stay open — if you actually show UP in the world instead of hiding from it, the universe finds ways to tap you on the shoulder. My dad found a way to get me a message during our birthday week.

Thanks, Dad.

Speaking of Living Your Life…

New Yorkers — DO NOT miss this moment.

The Knicks are up 3-0 on the Cavs, and one win away from the NBA Finals. Tonight. Game 4. We have not been here since 1999. Let me say that number again for the people in the back: NINETEEN. NINETY. NINE.

There is NOTHING like New York when the Knicks are good. The whole city changes temperature. Strangers talk to each other on the subway. The bars get loud in the best way. It’s the IRL magic I’m always going on and on about, and it’s about to be everywhere.

So watch the game. With friends. With family. With total strangers at a bar who’ll be hugging you by the fourth quarter. And if they close it out tonight and SWEEP into the Finals, this city is going to be ELECTRIC.

Be out in it. Be part of it. Live your life.

Tell me how you are living your life in the comments below.

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See you next week — after church, before tipoff.

GO NY GO NY GO!!

IRL is going to be the new trend.

It’s so easy to stay home, watch a show, get your food delivered, and work out in your living room. But IN PERSON is where we understand each other. Where we realize we are more alike than we are different. And where we realize there is real power when we all strive toward a common goal.

We are in a moment where the algorithms want us alone, scrolling, sealed off. And the answer, the only answer I keep finding, is to go somewhere.

All Roads Lead to the South

We have to start in Selma… and the Power of the Vote. I won’t stop talking about this, and you shouldn’t either.

This Saturday, thousands of people gathered at Tabernacle Baptist Church and walked across the Edmund Pettus Bridge — the same bridge where, sixty-one years ago, John Lewis and Hosea Williams led marchers into a wall of state troopers on what we now call Bloody Sunday. This time, they came for what’s happening RIGHT NOW.

The Supreme Court just ruled in Louisiana v. Callais, and the decision further guts Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act, the exact provision Selma was about. Days before the march, the Court also allowed Alabama to use a congressional map it had previously ruled racially discriminatory. Let me say that again. A map that the Court itself called racially discriminatory is now being used to draw districts, to pick winners, to dilute Black political power.

So they marched. Faith leaders. AOC. Cory Booker. Senator Reverend Raphael Warnock. Bernice King. Congresswoman Terri Sewell. Over twenty sitting members of Congress. Civil rights veterans who were teenagers in 1965, and now find themselves doing it AGAIN, sixty-one years later, in their seventies and eighties.

The action was called “All Roads Lead to the South.” And the message could not have been clearer: this isn’t commemorative. This isn’t a remembrance walk. This is happening, RIGHT NOW, to undo what people bled for.

If you couldn’t be there in body, the next best thing is to be there with your vote, your voice, your dollars, and your time. The midterms are six months out. SHOW UP.

The right to vote is SACRED. Don’t waste it. And if you need help, Vote411 is a great site to make sure you’re registered, and to see what’s actually on the ballot in your area. Use it. Make voting fun — get your people together and make a plan for the fall. Be informed and get involved.

A Last-Minute Flight and a Band I Love

Showing up IRL doesn’t have to be heavy. Sometimes it’s just JOY.

Friday, I made one of those decisions you don’t quite know you’ve made until your Delta app lights up with a notification. Dave Matthews Band. Charlotte. One night. My best friend and constant seat buddy was in on the plan, plus the option of seeing friends I hadn’t seen in too long. So I burned some miles, cashed in some points, and we were off.

If you’ve never used miles and points for a one-day spontaneous trip like this, I’m telling you — THIS is what they’re for. Not “someday.” Not “when the perfect itinerary lines up.” For NOW. For the band you love, when they’re playing close enough to friends to make a turnaround trip work. That’s the whole point of the hoarding.

And the band did not disappoint. There’s something about being in that crowd, hearing those opening notes, looking over and seeing people you’ve known for years singing along to the same songs you’ve all loved for decades. That’s the IRL premium. That’s what Spotify cannot give you. Not for any price.

To my Charlotte people: I love you. Let’s not let it be that long again.

Visa Taps In — and Means It

Earlier in the week, I was lucky enough to be at the unveiling of Visa’s brand-new FIFA World Cup 2026™ campaign. They’re calling it “Tap In,” and it was one of those nights where you show up expecting to nod politely at a press release and walk out actually FIRED UP.

The campaign itself is fun. Jason Sudeikis anchors it (yes, Ted Lasso headlining a football campaign — chef’s kiss), alongside Lamine Yamal, Erling Haaland, Christian Pulisic, Jorge Campos, and the legendary voice of Andrés Cantor. The metaphor is sharp: in football, the “tap in” is the simplest finish — the smallest touch that creates the biggest moment. Visa is using that to talk about their payments tech, but they’re also doing something I respect more than your standard sponsor activation.

It’s called Tap In to Impact. Visa is putting $600,000 across three nonprofit partners — one in each host country: SCORE in the United States, Pro Mujer in Mexico, and Futurpreneur in Canada — all focused on small business owners, mentors, and community builders. The idea is to make sure that when the World Cup rolls through your city this summer, it doesn’t just leave behind ticket stubs and empty stadiums. It leaves behind LOCAL ECONOMIC IMPACT. Real businesses that got a boost. Real entrepreneurs who got mentorship. Real communities that got built up.

That’s what a corporate sponsorship is supposed to look like.

And, back to the IRL theme, I got to reconnect with old friends in that room and make a few new ones. That kind of night doesn’t happen on a Zoom. Big love to the Visa team for putting on something with actual teeth.

Cat’s Culture Corner: A Toast to The Late Show

This is Stephen Colbert’s final week on The Late Show. The series finale airs Thursday, May 21. After eleven years, 1,801 episodes, and one of the most consistent voices of political comedy in modern American TV, CBS is ending the show. They’re not replacing him. They’re retiring the franchise entirely.

The cancellation made news for a reason. Paramount was in the midst of a merger that needed Trump administration FCC approval. They had just settled a frivolous Trump lawsuit against CBS News for $16 million, which Colbert, on air, called “a big fat bribe.” A few weeks later, the show was canceled. CBS says it was a financial decision. Plenty of people, including David Letterman, aren’t buying it. As Stephen himself told the Times: “It’s possible that two things can be true.”

But here’s the part I want you to hear.

I had the privilege of being in that audience last month. And the thing that struck me wasn’t Stephen — though he was brilliant. It was the STAFF. The producers. The writers. The audience wranglers. The crew. Every single person was giving it everything, at a show they all knew was ending. They knew their jobs were wrapping up, and still they showed up, fully present, fully professional, fully ALIVE in the work.

That’s craft. That’s class. That’s love of the job.

To the entire Late Show family: thank you for what you’ve made for us. Eleven years of staying funny when sometimes the news was anything but. Here’s to better days, new gigs, and a soft landing for every single one of you as you begin what’s next. The industry would be smart to scoop you up fast.

One Last Thing

Selma. Charlotte. The Visa event. A taping at the Ed Sullivan Theater.

What do they have in common? People showing UP. In person. Together. Making something happen with their actual bodies in actual rooms.

And here’s the thing — May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and we cannot talk about mental health in this country without talking about loneliness. The Surgeon General has called it an epidemic. People are more isolated, more anxious, and more disconnected than at any point in recent memory. It’s not in your head. It’s in the air. It’s in the design of the apps. It’s in the way our days have been built.

In a moment where so much is engineered to keep us alone, scrolling, sealed off, in our heads, the answer is to go somewhere. March somewhere. Fly somewhere. Walk somewhere to see a friend. Make the call. Plan the dinner. Text the group thread back and actually pick a date.

So go.

And speaking of being there, TOMORROW NIGHT. Game 1. Knicks vs. Cavs. Eastern Conference Finals. Madison Square Garden. 8 pm tip on ESPN. I’ll be out watching with friends, screaming at the TV.

Someone asked me recently — why the Knicks?

My Mom was a Knicks fan. It was the first team she followed when she came to America, and she talked about them ALL THE TIME when I was growing up. How she’d go on dates to Knicks games and then over to the Village Vanguard to hear the Ramsey Lewis Trio. It was that version of NYC, through her eyes, that I grew up hearing about.

Plus, the Minneapolis Lakers had moved to LA (and don’t even get me started — there are NO LAKES IN CALIFORNIA, but I digress). I have a soft spot for the Timberwolves. In fact, one of my very first “real interviews” was with Kevin Garnett when he was drafted. They sent me because I was young and they thought he would relate to me. He was a great interview, not yet “The Big Ticket,” but I just knew he would one day bring a championship to someone. (Spoiler: he did. Just not in Minnesota.) His podcast is HILARIOUS — if you like ball, take a listen.

Back next week. After church — before tipoff.

GO NY GO NY GO!!

The Virginia Supreme Court struck down the redistricting referendum that Virginia voters had just approved — by a 52-to-48 percent margin — just weeks ago. THREE MILLION people cast ballots. THREE MILLION Virginians said: we want fair maps. We want fair representation. And a 4-3 court decision just threw it out.

The court’s reasoning? A procedural technicality — the Democratic-led legislature didn’t follow the exact required steps when they put the question on the ballot. And look, I understand the rule of law. But here’s what I also understand: this is happening in the middle of a national redistricting war where Republican-led states across the South have redrawn maps specifically to dilute Democratic votes — many of those votes belonging to Black and Latino communities — with the full backing and pressure of the White House. Tennessee just passed a new map aimed at eliminating its one Democratic congressional seat. Louisiana, Alabama — they’re all in play. And analysts say if Virginia’s maps stay blocked and the GOP redistricting holds across these states, Republicans could end up with as much as a 12-seat structural advantage going into November.

TWELVE SEATS.

The fight for House control is already on a razor’s edge. Democrats need to flip just three seats to take back the majority. Republicans can only afford to lose two. And they know that. Which is why the map-drawing has been aggressive, relentless, and strategic.

Here’s the thing I keep coming back to: the midterms are in November. Early voting starts next month in Virginia. The political winds are shifting, the President’s approval ratings are low, and, historically, the President’s party loses seats in midterms. Which is EXACTLY why the map fight is so fierce right now. They know what’s coming. They’re trying to build the wall before the wave hits.

Governor Abigail Spanberger said it best: “More than three million Virginians cast their ballots. In November, they will, and they’ll power Democrats to the House majority.”

It’s a reminder — like it always is — that the vote matters. THE VOTE MATTERS. Every single one.

My friend Mike Muse has a great program called Vote Quadrant about how to make sure you’re voting locally and nationally for the issues that matter most to you — check it out, be prepared, and make sure you vote.

You Should Be Able to Work Without Being Insulted

I’m going to say this plainly: what happened with Rachel Scott at the Lincoln Memorial this week was embarrassing. Not for her — for us.

Full disclosure: Rachel and I were colleagues at ABC News. I know how hard she has worked to get where she is.

Here’s the setup: Trump was at the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, showing off the blue paint his administration put on it. Rachel Scott, one of the sharpest political correspondents in the business, asked a completely reasonable question about why the administration was focused on a reflecting pool renovation while there’s an active conflict with Iran, a fragile ceasefire, and gas prices are climbing.

His response? He called her question “stupid.” A “disgrace to our country.” And then, well, there’s a video circulating that a lot of people believe shows him calling her something far worse as he walked away. Snopes is still investigating exactly what was said and to whom. But this is hardly the first time. In December, he called her “the most obnoxious” and “a terrible reporter.” In January: “She hasn’t asked me a good question in years.” In March on Air Force One, a different reporter dared to ask why thousands of Marines were being sent to the Middle East, and he told them, “You’re a very obnoxious person,” before moving on.

This is the pattern. Women reporters asking legitimate questions about serious topics get called obnoxious, stupid, and terrible. And it’s not just frustrating — it’s DANGEROUS. Because when you call the press the enemy of the people, when you demean journalists by name in front of cameras, you’re not just being rude, you’re telling your supporters that those reporters don’t deserve respect. Their questions don’t deserve answers. That accountability doesn’t apply.

Rachel Scott asked about the Iran conflict and rising gas prices while standing in front of a PAINTED POOL. That’s not a stupid question. That’s exactly the question a free press is supposed to ask. The insults are deflections from answering what’s actually being asked — and kudos to the entire press pool for pressing on no matter what.

Cat’s Culture Corner

Kid A Mnesia — You HAVE to Experience This

I went last night, and I am still not over it.

For those who don’t know, the Kid A Mnesia Exhibition is a collaboration between Radiohead and artists Stanley Donwood and Thom Yorke. It’s an immersive, room-by-room visual journey through the world of Kid A and Amnesiac. Those records came out in 2000 and 2001, and they sounded like nothing else. They still don’t. And in addition to the exhibit itself, there’s a 75-minute film featuring some of the best cuts and some new music, set to their artwork.

What they built is genuinely stunning. Some rooms are overwhelming, others are completely still — but throughout, the music and visual art work together in a way that feels almost biological. Like it’s happening inside you, not around you. The artwork, when animated and combined with the music remixed in spatial audio, is pretty AMAZING.

And in a world where the internet tends to keep us apart, there was something really special about being in a room with strangers, all experiencing the same thing — catching someone’s glance or smile at a particular moment. With ticket prices rising everywhere, I think these kinds of shared IRL experiences will only become more popular. Something we do together, in smaller groups, fully present.

It’s only heading to Mexico City, San Francisco, and Chicago after its NYC run.

If you love Radiohead, or even just like them. If you love art. If you love checking out something genuinely different.

GO. Don’t think about it. Just go.

RAYE — “Joy” from This Music May Contain Hope

On the complete opposite end of the emotional spectrum from everything above — and yet somehow the perfect antidote to it — is this song.

RAYE released her second album, This Music May Contain Hope, in March, and “Joy” is the track that has me on my knees. She performs it with her two sisters, Amma and Absolutely, and it is a full-on gospel declaration. It pulls from a James Brown vocal loop, builds like a sermon, and the chorus goes: I may cry through the night / but my joy comes in the morning.

That line is from the Psalms. Ancient poetry. And RAYE, who has been open about her faith, her sobriety, and her survival, delivers it as if she means every single word. Because she does.

I think about what she’s overcome: a label situation that silenced her for years, assault, addiction, despair, and then the Grammy moment, and now this album, and I hear “Joy” differently. It’s not a happy song. It’s a resilient one. There is a difference.

After this week — redistricting courts, reporters being demeaned, and the world feeling like a lot — hearing someone declare, "I may cry through the night, but my joy comes in the morning," feels like a release.

What brings you joy? Share with me in the comments.

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I declare there will be joy. I’m going to hold onto that.

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Thanks for being here this week — share this with someone who needs to hear it. I’ll be back next week — after church, before tip-off.

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Happy Mother’s Day!!!

GO NY GO NY GO!!

Everyone says believe in yourself, brag about your wins — but those same people will turn around and say don’t be vain, don’t be too confident, know your place, be humble. We send both messages constantly, often to the same people.

What really gets me is who we allow to be confident. Who we decide has earned it.

This clip surfaced this week of Shedeur Sanders. With the NFL Draft happening, a reporter asked Deion’s son what it was like last season — after being “the man” in high school and college — when presumably he wasn’t “the man” anymore. His answer? “I feel like I was the man. I don’t let nobody else dictate how I feel about myself. If you allow that, then you are living for the wrong reasons. I know who I am as a person, as an individual, and just being a child of God…. If I allow that, then I am not mentally strong. I got to be able to be mentally strong in each and every situation that life throws at you.”

For some people, that’s arrogance. For others, that’s exactly the kind of unshakable belief a starting quarterback needs to survive in the NFL. And honestly, this is the son of Deion Sanders. Prime Time himself. Did we expect anything different?

It reminded me of this famous clip of a young Venus Williams being interviewed, and her dad stepping in to check a reporter who kept rephrasing the same question — clearly fishing for doubt. At the time, it looked like an overbearing tennis parent shielding his kid from tough questions. Looking back now? That was a father protecting his daughter’s confidence while it was still being formed.

I thought about both of them this week during a job pitch.

The question was simple: talk about something you created from start to finish that you’re proud of. Easy enough. But in setting it up, I had to explain why I was given the opportunity: a show I executive-produced had landed number one in its time slot.

Every time I got to that part in practice, I stumbled. It came out apologetic. Almost embarrassed. I had to stop and do the mental work to remind myself:

YOU did that. Say it with your chest.

It brought back one of my favorite quotes: " We want our work to speak for itself — but the work doesn’t speak.” It needs us to translate it. To say what it took to build, how hard it was, and what the win actually meant.

In this world — where even your 9-to-5 increasingly requires you to pitch yourself like an independent contractor — learning to talk about your accomplishments isn’t vanity. It’s a skill. And like any skill, you have to practice it before the moment counts.

So that’s your homework this week: find the one thing you can brag about yourself and actually say it out loud. Put it in the comments. I want to read it.

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Cat’s Culture Corner

The Michael Jackson movie has everyone talking. My full review is coming next week — but in the meantime, read this sharp opinion piece from my friend and colleague Nekesa Mumbi Moody in the New York Times. Link below.

Why I Still Love Michael Jackson

It’s Tony Season on Broadway — I had the privilege of attending opening night of Joe Turner’s Come and Gone last night. August Wilson is one of America’s great literary treasures, and this production does his work real justice.

Debbie Allen directs a cast that is simply connected to the text, each other and the audience throughout the show. Cedric the Entertainer brings his comedic timing into dramatic territory and doesn’t miss a beat. Taraji P. Henson is magnetic — as powerful in the quiet moments as the big ones and we get to hear those pipes!!! Rubén Santiago-Hudson turns in the kind of performance that has Tony buzz written all over it, and Joshua Boone gives an electrifying take on a genuinely difficult role that you won’t soon forget.

Beyond the performances — the set design, sound design, costuming — every department is doing excellent work. This one’s a must.

Next on my list: Proof and Lost Boys. What are your must-sees this season? Hit me in the comments.

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Thanks for being here. Share this with someone who needs to hear the confidence piece this week — you know who that is.

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Back next week, after church, before tip-off. GO NY GO NY GO!!

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The film blends vivid images and hard facts with the beautiful storytelling of three births, three excited Black families. It manages to hold both the harrowing statistics of being Black and pregnant and the joy of Black motherhood when supported by professionals who not only understand the risks but also understand the particular anxiety Black mothers and fathers carry during this special time.

I wish my first sentence this week could have said “the celebration of” instead of “the observance of”, but the numbers leave nothing to celebrate.

The Numbers

It was 2018 when Serena Williams told Vogue about the complications she faced after giving birth in 2017 — how she almost died, and how she felt like no one was listening.

I covered the Serena story in 2018. I was championing Black maternal health segments in 2021. So I was genuinely surprised, sitting in that talk-back after The Ebony Canal, to realize: the data hasn’t really changed.

According to CDC data from 2024:

44.8deaths per 100k live births — Black women

14.2deaths per 100k live births — white women

17.9national average per 100k live births

Black women die from pregnancy-related causes at more than 3 times the rate of white women. And perhaps even more striking: Maternal Mortality Review Committees find that 87% of pregnancy-related deaths among Black women are considered preventable.

“How is it that Serena told us about this in 2018 — and still, almost a decade later, the numbers haven’t really changed?”

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What has changed

What I did see throughout this whole week, across media and community organizations, was community activism. That has changed.

The Black Mamas Matter Alliance has done excellent work centering their mission on educating women about their rights during childbirth, and on alternatives, such as doulas and midwives, to shape the birthing experience. There are walks. And this week, in Congress, politicians asked the Secretary of Health, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., directly about how the government can help bring these numbers down.

Because the mistrust many Black Americans feel toward the healthcare system isn’t imagined, it’s earned. From the Tuskegee Syphilis Study to ongoing disparities in treatment and outcomes, that history lives in the present.

But this week I also saw something else in my feeds: Black women talking about first trips to OB-GYNs being met with care, with acknowledgment from their providers that they would be listened to, that their pain and anxiety would be taken seriously. That is a step forward.

And Level Forward, the public benefit entertainment company, is producing a series of narrative short films centered on Black Motherhood: Real Outcomes/Future Visions. Humble brag: I will be working on one of those films, The Mixer, written by Abeni Bloodworth. The script is set in the future and filled with color, suspense, and joy. It reunites me with my director from Soul of a Nation, Tine, and I cannot wait to share more as we dive in.

And one more thing: Prince

This Tuesday marks the 10th anniversary of the death of one of my all-time favorite artists. LZ Granderson wrote a beautiful column in the LA Times this week about how the deeper he digs into Prince’s lyrics, the more they speak to him.

The devastating effects of Operation Metro Surge had me thinking of Prince often. One of the last times I saw him live was in Baltimore, a concert he gave after the death of Freddie Gray, to help bring healing to the city. He was always telling us that love was the way. But he also pushed us toward our dreams.

“If the elevator tries to break you down — go crazy, punch a higher floor.” Let’s Go Crazy

Prince would have been so proud of the people in Minnesota. I wonder what kind of song he would have written.

Comment below with your favorite Prince memory.

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And she said something I haven’t been able to shake:

“Everyone’s too worried about being perfect to be human.”

She went on to describe how, once she started opening up about her academic struggles, something shifted. Her classmates began sharing too, and suddenly, they weren’t alone. They exchanged study habits, tutoring resources, and ways to get through it.

That’s how we move forward, and not feel so lonely in our struggles, not by pretending, but by telling the truth.

It’s how we build real connections. Real support. Real progress.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot this week, especially hearing Charlie Puth talk about vulnerability on his recent press tour for his new album, Whatever’s Clever!

Here was the same thing happening at scale.

Puth has spoken openly about how, for a long time, he was trying to be what he thought people wanted him to be in order to be successful.

I’ve always admired his talent. The man is a musical genius.
So much so that even Taylor Swift gave him a nod in her song End Game, declaring he deserved a bigger stage

That line alone also made Puth think. What do the biggest artists do that he doesn’t do?

Vulnerability

Something Taylor herself has mastered.

He made up his mind to make this album his most vulnerable ever.

To add authenticity to his mastery of music.

It’s hard, and it’s scary, but we are at our best when we show up as our full, authentic selves.

It’s easier to shape-shift—to be who we think our boss wants, what the room expects, what society rewards.

But in doing that, we flatten ourselves.

We stifle creativity.
We limit growth.
We stay inside the lines—when the world is actually asking us to color outside them.

Outside the lines is what I thought of when I started listening to Raye’s album My 21st Century Blues. It is the sound of an artist refusing to shrink herself.

It’s unconventional: full orchestration, songs that stretch past five or six minutes, not your standard 3:30 radio formula.

It’s different.

And that’s exactly why it works.

In a world saturated with content and constant noise, the way to stand out isn’t to fit in.

So this week, the goal is to trust my voice and let it be enough.

And celebrating all the humans I’m lucky enough to do life with.

Because vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s infrastructure.

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Thanks for reading - be sure to subscribe, and I’ll be back next week, after church, before tip-off.

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If you ever get the chance to visit that part of Northern California, please do. It is absolutely GORGEOUS — a reminder of just how beautiful this country is.

But the heart wants what it wants — and it was great to be back at Blondies for the Sweet Sixteen this weekend.

And something Duke player Isaiah Evans’ mom, Marieke Lémon, said to a WRAL reporter has been staying with me. Evans didn’t get a lot of playing time last year — averaged only 6.8 points per game, about 14 minutes a game — but this season he’s a bona fide star. Lémon talked about how sure he could have transferred, chased more NIL money, and found more playing time. But instead, he sat in adversity. He chose to get better right where he was. And that decision is exactly what made him a standout. this season.

Sometimes you have to sit in what’s making it hard. You can’t always take the easy way out — even when it’s standing right in front of you. Sometimes staying in place, learning to make the uncomfortable comfortable, asking God or the universe what am I supposed to be learning right now? — and then leaning in and doing the work — is exactly what gets you where you need to go.

I was reminded of this again while watching the new Hulu documentary Breaking the Glass: The Pat Summitt Story about legendary Tennessee Volunteers coach.

Produced by Robin Roberts and her Rock’n Robin Productions, and directed by award-winning director Dawn Porter, this film shows us how Summitt became a legend. But did you know that the first time she tried out for the national team, she was told she wouldn’t make it? She went home that year, got in the best shape of her life, and of course, made the team. Being told no is what made her better. That’s where her origin story was born.

All of it is a reminder: the dream never dies. Sometimes we just have to take the long road to get there, and sometimes that road is all uphill.

I want to thank everyone who gave to the Bloomingdale School of Music this week — and share this video with you. One of the young people who really impressed us at our annual benefit concert was Autumn Redd, a flute player who joined our composition program at a teacher’s suggestion. And WOW, this young man has talent. Enjoy this snippet. And for those who still want to give, you can click here.

Thanks for joining me this week. I’m off to finish the Duke women’s game and the Michigan men’s game — and catch the Duke men’s game with some friends a little later.

I’ll see you next week — after church, before tipoff.

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Instead, I found myself on the sidelines of a flag football field, right back at the start of my career.

Sometimes, you have to go back to move forward.

This week, I was distracted (in the best way) by the inaugural Fanatics Flag Football Classic.

A round-robin, three-team exhibition featuring current and former NFL players, world-class athletes, and Team USA Football, five-time international champions in the flag football world.

For many, this felt like a preview of what’s coming: with flag football making its Olympic debut in Los Angeles in 2028 for both men and women.

The anticipation was high:
Could NFL stars dominate a different version of the game they’ve mastered?
Could Team USA remind everyone why they own this space?

All week, we talked to stars like Tom Brady, Jalen Hurts, Von Miller, Gronk, and others about how their skills might translate to the flag game.

Then it was tournament time!

OBJ was pulling in one-handed catches. Brady launching deep balls.
Davante Adams turning his hips, a critical flag football skill, to keep his flags from getting snatched.

Two things hit me at the same time:

First — how much fun they were having.
Second — how brave it actually was.

Because make no mistake: Team USA dominated.

The games were competitive, but the pros were stepping into unfamiliar territory. They studied film. Brady said he started throwing seriously again about three months ago when this was announced.

This wasn’t just an exhibition — it was a test.

And honestly? One they didn’t have to take.

Turned out, it was a test for me too.

I teamed up with my friend Mike Muse, turned my iPhone into a mobile rig with mics, and got back into the field.

Running. Gunning. Covering everything, from the draft to open practices to game day, for The Mike Muse Show on SiriusXM.

And just like that, I was transported back to my early days in New York.

I learned the ropes of covering huge stories in the Big Apple by field-producing two to three times a week while also doing my line-producing gig when I first moved here, working alongside some of the best photographers and editors in the business.
Together, we covered everything, breaking news, sports, marches, parades, high-profile funerals, and town halls.

Those grizzled vets taught me a lot of what I know today, and the new kids and I learned from them and created magic together.

We learned by watching - and then doing, innovating, taking chances, always making slot.

This week felt like that again.

I was even sending frames back to one of those same photographers, getting real-time feedback like I was just starting out.

And just like TB12 was out there competing…

We were, too.

Did we dominate like Team USA? We were close.

But like the NFL players, we were having a blast, and making slot.

Because at the end of the day, no matter the medium, the outlet, the team I’m on, I’ll always be a storyteller.

And going back to basics doesn’t take away from leadership…

If anything, it’s essential.

You have to understand what you’re asking people to do.
You need the language. The muscle memory. The technical instincts.

Especially now, when everyone is being asked to wear more hats than ever before.

As I left to head to another project, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a while:

Proud. Energized. Grounded.

The same way Brady looked in that final press conference.

They didn’t win.

But they learned something.
They had fun.

Tom Brady said, “ Moments like this remind me why I love this game'“

And that’s the part people forget:

Starting over isn’t a step back.

It’s the move that takes you forward.

See you back here next week - NCAA Sweet 16 Weekend. I’ll still be pulling for Duke.

After church, before tipoff.

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I’ve covered the Oscars in one way or another for more than two decades — from the red carpet to the press room to the control room. Last night gave us A LOT to talk about.

But before we get into the show…

A huge thank you to everyone who joined my live stream with the team at Nerd Initiative. Mike Rothman and Chris True are the real deal — thoughtful, funny, and true pros. I’m grateful they invited me to jump in on Oscar night, and yes… we’re already talking about doing more.

Now — let’s talk about the Oscars.

There are really two ways to look at last night:

1. The show itself

2. The awards

Let’s start with the show.

Monologue – Conan did a great job — a little political, but not too much. And the kids chasing him around the stage was genuinely funny.

Pace – pacing was good, I thought – I would have moved up the performance of Golden, where I thought the pace was getting slow – also, for the love of comedy, next time let the Bridesmaid team just get up there and riff, they are THAT good.

In Memoriam– well done – Billy Crystal remembering his friends, Michele Singer and Rob Reiner. The tributes to Diane Keaton and Catherine O’Hara were filled with respect and emotion.

And even though I heard it was coming, Barbara (Babs :)) coming out telling us a story and then singing – that was a once-in-a-lifetime moment – SHE DOESN’T DO THAT – she just doesn’t, she has incredible stage fright – for her to do that shows how special Robert Redford was to her.

Performances – I Lied to You from Sinners – had to rewatch this twice - I mean c’mon – Buddy Guy, Brittany Howard, Kingfish, Shaboozey – MISTY COPELAND (fresh from retirement and hip surgery) dancing from the Firebird suite, The Vampires being stopped at the stage from going up?, just like in Sinners the movie – well thought out, well performed with tons of easter eggs for those looking

Golden – again – great staging – great easter eggs – and that song is just a banger – couldn’t be happier for that team winning – KPOP is here to stay.

Did I miss hearing the other 3 songs nominated? Kinda? But I was ok with it this year to make room for the longer In Memorium segment.

Taped Skits – some were better than others, I’m not sure we needed them at the expense of letting the winners get through their speeches (especially noticed when the team from K-Pop Demon Hunters won for Golden)

The Tie! – Kudos to the Oscar producers!! I guarantee the producers probably went over “what to do if there is a tie” with every presenter. Kudos to Kumail Nanjiani for listening – 7th Tie in Oscar history, first since 2013, and although it was probably hectic backstage, it was a great moment - Live TV is still the best.

Clip Packages: Thank you for bringing them back!

At 3 hours and 40 minutes, the show should have dragged — but somehow it didn’t.

And maybe I’m in the minority here, but let it run long. This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment for many of these winners. Let them have it. Let them say what’s in their hearts.

Overall Grade: B+

Now the awards….

All in all, I thought the voters got it mostly right

Let’s start with the good:

Autumn Durald Arkapaw winning for cinematography – first woman to win in this category, as well as the first Black person and first Filipina– and the 22nd Black woman to win an Oscar overall – this entire awards season, she has stunned with her mastery of the craft and her classiness in all situations – her asking the women in the room to stand up brought goosebumps

Ryan Coogler winning for original screenplay – YES YES YES – and him asking his cast and crew to stand up so he could give them respect – what a moment – and I love the fact that Iron Man, Robert Downey Jr. (soon to be Dr. DOOM ), and Captain America, Chris Evans, were the ones to give him his Oscar.

Jessie Buckley’s portrayal in Hamnet was devastatingly beautiful – and also the one Oscar win that was on lock early in the season.

Amy Madigan achieved an impressive victory in a surprising role.

First casting award goes to the casting director from One Battle of Another, Cassandra Kulukundis – I’m ok with this, she found Chase – casted Teyanna in her most visible role to date, that landed her a nomination – not to mention Penn/Leo – this also could have gone to sinners Miles Canton was inspired casting as well – but I’m ok with it.

Documentary Short -“All the Empty Rooms,” I was pulling for this or “The Devil Was Busy, “but seeing the mother of a Uvalde victim up there made the win for All the Empty Rooms feel important -

Documentary Feature – I wanted this to go to “The Perfect Neighbor,” but “Mr. Nobody Against Putin” was also a very poignant film.

Michael B Jordan, what a win – what a season – what a campaign – I believe that MBJ is our next true Hollywood Star

Now to the other stuff

Paul Thomas Anderson – wins for best director // One Battle after Another (OBAA) wins for Best Film.

Probably the most controversial wins of the night. Let’s take a closer look.

It’s not easy for a black man or woman to win for best director (just ask Spike Lee) but let’s dig into the numbers on PTA’s first win - this isn’t his BEST film (I liked Boogie Nights and Magnolia much better), but many felt this win was OVERDUE, a win for his body of work - let’s break this down – a bit.

Scorsese: 9 nominations before his win

Spielberg: 4 nominations before his win

PTA: had 4 nominations before his win

Nolan was nominated in 2002 and then didn’t win until 2024 – and “The Dark Knight” snub and the uproar over it was how we got the rules changed to allow 10 Best Picture noms

Cameron was considered a master of technique for over a decade until he made a historical pic (with a dash of romance), and he won his first nomination.

I’m not even going to get into women directors — that’s a whole separate Substack post.

But PTA won every award during the season, so I was confident he’d win last night. This is as much a legacy award as an award for the work done in OBAA.

Best Picture: OBAA – great acting, great cinematography, but a story that is problematic at best –

After reading a lot of online discourse, here’s why I think people are upset. A lot of critics and viewers describe OBAA as this “message” film because of what is happening in the world, and OBAA comes out when Los Angeles is going through a siege in its community by ICE.

The film flirts with revolutionary politics — immigration, resistance, the border — but never fully commits. Simply putting revolution on the screen doesn’t make a film revolutionary.

In fact, the story ultimately circles back to Leo and Sean Penn’s characters, once again centering white men in a narrative that uses the body of a Black woman as its catalyst.

PTA did not do himself any favors during his campaign by not giving a nod to the real revolutionaries who are showing their courage in LA, Chicago, Minnesota, and Vermont, who are not only under siege but also doing the work right now. There was no discussion about how the excellent craftsmanship in the movie actually helped inform the message -

By Contrast –By contrast, Sinners is intentional in every message it sends. It’s an original story rooted in history, using vampires as a symbol while delivering incredible acting, cinematography, and costume design.

Sinners never shies away from showing you the parrels between the racism of the 20’s and how it fits into today’s narrative – the idea of one group of people thinking that they can capitalize on anothers creativity – can steal one group’s land – the idea of how we are stronger when we are together – but there will always be some people who try to pull us apart - The message is clear, direct and unafraid. The cast and crew in their campaigning for the movie always kept that focus – and reinforced how they used their craftsmanship to carry the message forward.

Doesn’t make OBAA any less of a movie – but more people need to call out the movie for what it really is – instead of what they think it stands for

But this is what makes movies great, isn’t it?

That we can sit in the same room, watch the same story, and walk away arguing about what it meant.

In a world that feels increasingly disconnected, the Oscars reminded us of something simple: stories still bring people together.

So go see something you’re not sure you’ll like.

Go to a theater.

Put your phone down.

And let a story take you somewhere for two hours.

One question before I go:

What movie from this year will people actually still be talking about in 10 years?

Let me know in the comments.

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and I’ll see you back here Sunday after church ... before tip off

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I went to a taping of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert … a show with a little more than one month left before it signs off. I’ve worked on shows that have been canceled but still have episodes to fill. It’s usually cold: no energy, people just mailing it in. Not the case here. The staff was upbeat and welcoming. The warm-up host was funny, but honest about the show’s future. Stephen Colbert himself was well-prepared and visibly grateful for the audience. That kind of environment only comes when it’s modeled from the top.

I’ve always said this about Oprah. Early in my career in New York City, I was fortunate enough to interview her at the height of her fame. It was a Queens mall, where she was introducing her Angel Network. Because of the crowd, we ended up doing our one-on-one interview in the back of a shoe store. What impressed me then wasn’t the setting. It was her team. From her security to the producers to her assistants, every single person treated my crew like we were the stars. When Miss Winfrey herself grabbed my hand and led me through the crowd, people screaming and clapping, reaching for her from every direction, sometimes grabbing me instead, it was truly something to experience and witness all at once.

I wondered, walking into the podcast taping years later, whether it would still feel the same. She’s still Oprah, but not the Oprah of the 1990s. I was not disappointed. From the thoughtful check-in complete with snacks in the audience holding room, to being seated and made comfortable, to watching her interview the remarkable psychotherapist Esther Perel, to being walked out and handed a copy of the author’s book — everything was considered. And again: that doesn’t happen by accident. When the person at the top is insistent that everyone who enters their orbit is treated with kindness and respect, that reverberates. You remember it.

Leadership isn’t only about who’s in the room; sometimes it’s about who you allow yourself to become.

I’ve been captivated by Harry Styles’s new album, and particularly by what I’ve read about his producer Kid Harpoon’s journey to make it. This article from the New York Times really breaks down the way Harpoon had to work through his own creative blocks, through therapy, through permission to play, and the way Harry had to stay open to experimentation and lean into sounds from the ‘80s and ‘90s, and fuse them with his pop instincts and the feeling he got recently from dancing in the clubs in Berlin: that’s a kind of creative trust that shows in them music they delivered. The album, Kiss All the Time. Disco Occasionally, sounds like it. His SNL performance proved it. And now I have to find tickets to Madison Square Garden.

Speaking of MSG: how about those tournament championships? Later today, we’ll hear the seedings, and my Duke Blue Devils should be sitting at #1. And let’s not sleep on the women’s tournament: the level of play and the rise in fanbase make this anybody’s game. The next three weeks will be filled with March Madness.

One detour for me: the Fanatics Flag Football Classic next Saturday in Los Angeles, moved from Saudi Arabia because of regional unrest, featuring Tom Brady, Jalen Hurts, Jayden Daniels, Rob Gronkowski, and more. I’m genuinely curious to see how these guys do against men who’ve been playing tackle football their whole lives. You can catch the game on Fox, Saturday at 1 p.m. Eastern. And when the madness ends, we get Yankees Opening Day. Let’s go.

Tonight is Oscar night, and I’m stepping out of my comfort zone a bit. My friends at Nerd Initiative and I are combining for a live stream with real-time reactions to every winner. If you know me, you know I love an award show, and the Oscars are the standard. There’s nothing better than watching someone who has dedicated their career to an art form get honored by their peers. The glitz, the gowns, all of it. We start at 6:30 PM Eastern. Bring your second screen. https://www.youtube.com/@NerdInitiativeNetwork

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Thanks for reading — I’ll be back next week — after church, before tipoff. Go Duke.

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But what stopped me was the compassion and accountability we witnessed in real time after what happened at the BAFTA film awards last weekend — a moment meant to celebrate cinema that also became an unexpected lesson in empathy. During the broadcast, a man in the audience who lives with Tourette’s syndrome vocalized involuntarily, many times, a lot of hurtful words. The BAFTAs air on a tape delay on the BBC, and when it aired, SOME of the outbursts were edited out (along with some phrases from some of the winners), but one particular outburst that happened when Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo were on stage was not. A word that has a very painful history.

At first, people were upset with John Davidson, a filmmaker, who was there to celebrate his own nominated film. But as people began to really research the disease, public opinion started to shift. Variety reported that Davidson reached out to Warner Brothers to schedule time to personally apologize to Jordan and Lindo. (My colleague and friend Clayton Davis explains it really well in his interview with Davidson — link here.)

The blame shifted to the BAFTAs and the BBC. Why was that particular word left in when others were edited out? Public apologies were made.

What was illuminating was watching people actually dig in and do the research to understand what happened and why. As the public educated themselves about Tourette syndrome, you saw opinions shift — compassion for Davidson and accountability demanded. In our “blame first because I read it online” culture, this felt like a slight but real shift. Maybe we are starting to try to find real empathy for those who are different.

One last thing — if you watched the NAACP Image Awards last night, did you notice how loose and relaxed Michael B. and Delroy were? Because they knew they were in a space where they were protected. How do we strive to create spaces like that for each other — whether in the workplaces we lead or the next party we throw?

Speaking of the men from Sinners cleaning up accolades this awards season — I’m going to try something different tonight. I’ll be watching the SAG Awards (now called “The Actor Awards) and dropping some observations in the Notes section here on Substack, especially what it might mean for the Oscars in just two weeks. Hope you’ll join me.

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The Power of Spontaneity

(photo credit: Catherine McKenzie)

Tuesday night, my friend Samantha sent me and #lifeofbrett a text with a link to Mumford & Sons’ Instagram. The post was a handwritten note that just said: “Music Hall of Williamsburg.” 8 pm.

Long story short, the band was doing a pop-up concert in two hours, first-come, first-served. I called #lifeofbrett, we grabbed a cab, and off to Brooklyn we went, the whole anxiety and excitement of will we or won’t we get in hanging in the air. We told ourselves if we didn’t make it in, we’d comfort ourselves with a table and some dips at Lazer Wolf.

Lazer Wolf would have to wait. We got in.

As the show went on, the band told us they’d gotten the idea around noon when they realized no one was booked at one of their favorite venues, and they just made it happen. The security guys we spoke with said they received the call around 4 pm. One of the greatest sets I’ve ever seen, barely any amplification, a crowd of around 650, a magical night, right before they went and made more magic on SNL later this week.

I wish more bands would do stuff like this. Keep surprising us in the best ways. Give us reasons to get together offline and experience the togetherness of everyone sharing the same thing at the same moment — something you can only get in a performance space or a movie theater. I read somewhere that creation is a form of rebellion. What better rebellion, when so many forces seem bent on tearing us apart, than to create spaces where more of us can come together?

Cat’s Culture Picks (bringing this back!!)

Paul McCartney: Man on the Run

Prime Video. This is my favorite kind of celebrity documentary — the kind that takes a specific window of time and really zeros in on it. Here it’s Paul in the years right after the Beatles broke up, through the period of John Lennon’s assassination. There are a few directorial choices that I don’t think quite land — a metaphor the director seems to be reaching for — but the deep dive into the archive, hearing all those old Wings tracks, and watching how Paul’s voice as a composer evolved are genuinely fascinating.

Mumford & Sons — Prizefighter

Ani DiFranco — Ani DiFranco

Touch of Funk — one of my favorite mashup playlists

“A lie — no matter how powerful the person is — is still a lie. And the truth — no matter how small the person is — is still the truth.” — Ryan Coogler.

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See you next week — after church, before tip-off.

There’s a stereotype about Americans — that we are loud, brash, and brag­docious. Many cultures frown on that. But over the last few weeks, Americans in the spotlight have used their platforms to speak out about what’s happening in our country. From Springsteen to Amber Glenn, from Brandi Carlile to Hunter Hess, from Bad Bunny to Rich Ruohonen: musicians, athletes, artists all choosing to use their voices.

It is time for us to turn to each other, not on each other.

— Rev. Jesse Jackson

Some chose to ridicule them for it. People celebrated when they stumbled in Olympic competition. People have asked, “When did they get so political?” when they hear certain lyrics. It’s as if we’ve forgotten what makes us American, why the founders wanted to break from the British in the first place. As if someone saying something we disagree with means: off with their heads.’ But that’s not the promise of the red, white, and blue.

Freedom of speech is just that — the freedom to say what you want. Now, that doesn’t mean there are no consequences for speech that is harmful or an outright lie. But I will defend your right to say it. Just don’t trample on mine. And what good is the freedom of speech if you don’t use it? I believe it is no longer the time for us to be idle, to sit out this democratic experiment that is America.

“Deliberation and debate is the way you stir the soul of our democracy.”

— Rev. Jesse Jackson

Not all of us are orators like the Reverend. But I’ve been struck by how many different ways there are to use our voice, voting, talking with someone who sees things differently, and really listening, volunteering, writing a song, a play, or a book, creating a piece of visual art, or donating to a cause that matches your values. The more we all speak out in all those different ways, the more we affect the people we put in power to represent us. The more we show them that we know right from wrong and we demand the same from our leaders.

“At the end of the day, we must go forward with hope and not backward by fear and division.”

— Rev. Jesse Jackson

A quick aside on the Reverend. At the 2016 Democratic Convention, I was producing a small team in the convention hall. As with all my shoots, snacks were abundant. We were on the air when Rev. Jackson stuck his head into our production area and asked if he could have one of our Diet Cokes. Without missing a beat, I said, “Sure, as long as you’ll sit down for an interview.” He obliged, and it was a highlight for all of us. He was kind. He offered wisdom on camera, and off camera, he encouraged every one of us to keep doing the work. Jesse Jackson wasn’t perfect — but because of him, many of us saw a different future for ourselves. And learned to stand up for ourselves. Rest in power, sir.

So this week, it was hope that stopped me — hope I saw in musicians and athletes, in politicians and judges, in friends and neighbors. We must keep using our voices to inspire it.

“Hold your head high, stick your chest out. It gets dark sometimes, but morning comes. Keep hope alive.”

— Rev. Jesse Jackson

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How are you holding on to hope? Tell me in the comments. And I’ll see you here next week - after church - before tip off,

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To me, both felt like a choice — a celebration of humanity over cruelty. A choice of LOVE over HATE.

Lately, I’ve been fascinated — bordering on obsessed — with how we’ve seemingly forgotten how to talk about our differences in a space of safety and, frankly, love.

I grew up in the soundtrack of those differences.

When I was a kid, my parents and their friends hosted the kind of dinner parties where the kids were sent to the playroom while the adults stayed in the living room, with their cocktails and the TV on or the music turned up to 10. I remember being mesmerized by the volume of it all. I can still hear my father’s bass voice boisterously arguing about everything from Rod Carew’s batting average to his treatment in the Army to the future of the Episcopal Church.

I can hear my mother’s Midwestern-meets-Panamanian accent tackling immigration policy or lamenting that the Reverend’s Sunday sermon didn’t talk about love nearly enough.

They disagreed — loudly and often — but they never left the room.

In America, we tend to talk about love in a narrow, almost binary way. But I’ve been thinking about a broader, more radical version of it.

This past summer, while on a shoot, I met a Native American elder from the Yurok tribe. She told me about a tradition in which elders retreat once a year for a full week of prayer—not just for their tribe or reservation, but for the world. The purpose is to restore ecological and spiritual balance for everyone.

There’s a catch.

Before an elder can participate, they must have a clear mind and conscience. Any anger, resentment, misunderstanding, or lingering grievance must be released, forgiven, or addressed. If you’re carrying “petty” in your heart, you’re not allowed to go.

Imagine being so consumed by a grudge that you couldn’t show up to pray for the world.

For the Yurok, caring for the environment is inseparable from caring for humanity. It’s an act of love for future generations.

It reminded me of Yom Kippur — the Jewish Day of Atonement — and now, as Lent begins for Christians, that same call to pause, reflect, and make room for mercy.

Across traditions, the message is similar: renewal requires humility. Clarity requires release.

And yet everywhere we look, we’re being encouraged to dwell only on our differences — to weaponize them, to let them harden into anger.

At a seminar I attended last week, a practitioner said something that stopped me cold:

“In the moment, difference is killing promise.”

She challenged us not only to empathize with one another, but to lean into our differences — to respect them, to use them as a bridge rather than a barrier. And at the foundation of that work is love.

We’ve become afraid of real conversations because we’re afraid of conflict. But without those conversations — without a little discomfort — how do we truly understand one another? Or ourselves? How do we challenge assumptions and change hearts and minds instead of simply assuming what someone thinks or feels?

As creators, this is when we are at our best. You don’t really know what you believe until you’re asked to stand up and defend it. And in that process, we begin to see one another’s humanity — and often discover we are far more alike than different.

I’m tired of letting the haters win. Tired of letting those who profit from division use our anger as fuel. Tired of being encouraged to believe the worst in one another instead of expecting the best.

Creating — whether as a journalist, a singer, a playwright or a filmmaker — is an act of rebellion in itself. And history has shown us that we are our best creative selves when we create from a foundation of love.

Now, Minnesota.

With the administration announcing a drawdown that residents and journalists say they are still waiting to see, here’s what the data shows:

• The Department of Homeland Security and the White House reported approximately 4,000 arrests

• A review of that data by FOX 9 Minneapolis–St. Paul found that just 5.2% of those arrested were convicted criminals

• This tracks with national data showing that since the administration’s ICE crackdown, nearly 73% of those arrested had no criminal conviction

• Nearly half had no criminal conviction and no pending criminal charges

There were reports of two civilian protestors killed during encounters involving federal agents, and one detainee reportedly died in custody.

The estimated economic impact to Minneapolis alone was $203.1 million in a single month, not including Saint Paul or the surrounding suburbs.

Courts already overwhelmed are now handling lawsuits alleging unconstitutional policies, racial profiling, and violations of the 1st, 2nd, 4th, and 10th Amendments.

The emotional and spiritual damage cannot be quantified.

And yet — we also witnessed love in action. Neighbors showing up for one another. People — even those considered “on the other side” — are using their voices, resources, and courage to protect their communities.

For those wishing to help folks in Minnesota, you can go here for a list of charities, find one that fits your values, and give if you can.

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Whether it’s a boisterous dinner party debate, a week of silent prayer in the woods, or a day of atonement, the common thread is a clear mind.

We can’t build the world we want — or even have a decent conversation about it — if we’re white-knuckling our resentment.

So this week, I’m taking a page from the Yurok elders. I’m asking myself where I’m too petty to pray, and what I need to release to make room for something better.

Because if we want more love in the world, we have to start by making a little more room for it in ourselves.

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See you need week - after church - before tip-off

Both versions of it.

Despite announcements of a drawdown, ICE agents are still all over my home state of Minnesota, and now apparently moving into Wisconsin, another place I have deep ties to. I worked there. My dad went to college there. (Shout-out UW–River Falls — Division III football champs!)

And the ICE that doesn’t seem interested in melting and leaving the streets of New York City to give us clear walkways has stopped me many times.

When I worked at a legacy news organization, I was famous for saying in meetings:

“We lose the audience when we don’t call a thing a thing.”

So let’s call it a thing.

The meme the President posted Friday morning — I’m not going to link to it to avoid giving it more oxygen — was racist.
End stop.

According to Twin Cities TV Station KSTP Fox 9, ICE has detained nine children from Minnesota during recent immigration enforcement actions, sending many of them to detention centers in Texas. This isn’t just morally reprehensible — it is very likely unlawful. And we’re already seeing how this kind of trauma emotionally scars children in ways that last far beyond the headlines.

A lot of what’s happening in America right now has gone beyond policy. Beyond red versus blue. Beyond party loyalty.

It’s the kind of moment where you read the stories, see the polling, and feel your body lock up. You want to help, protest, or scream—but instead you freeze. The scale of it feels overwhelming.

Like being trapped inside a block of ICE.

When I get stuck like this, a few things help:

1. Take a break. From the news. From the feeds. From the constant intake. Cry if helps… it helps me.

2. Then do something tangible. Call someone affected and just listen. Donate to a cause that reflects your values. Give time if you can. Write your senator or congressperson. Pray. Meditate. Whatever your practice is for grounding and clarity.

3. Live your values out loud. Show people your moral code by how you move through the world. Be the change you want to see — not as a slogan, but as a daily practice.

Now, for my media folks…

Three hundred journalists laid off from The Washington Post.
Kelly Clarkson announcing she’s ending her show.
Sherri canceled.

UGH.

By my count — across ABC, CBS, NBC, The Washington Post, Politico, Axios, Business Insider, and outlets I’m probably not even aware of — the equivalent of an entire network news division (and then some) is now out of work. Add in advertising and sales teams, and it’s likely the size of a full agency as well.

That’s heavy. And if you’re job-searching right now, it can feel paralyzing.

There’s a quote by David Bowie I keep coming back to:

“If you feel safe in the area you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in… when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.”

Many of us were comfortable. And comfort can quietly suffocate creativity. Some of us were in places where that creativity wasn’t rewarded, so we stopped trying.

This moment — painful as it is — can also be one of freedom. Create with abandon. Start the Substack. Launch the YouTube series. Learn new tools. Try new ways of working. Work with different people.

I was at Sundance last week, and a producer said something that stuck with me:

“Die with your memories, not with your dreams.”

Now is the time to turn those dreams into realities — or at least to learn why they won’t work by trying and failing.

You don’t have to be perfect.

You just have to begin.

Share with us one dream you’re going to put into reality - let’s cheer each other on.

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One last thought on this Super Bowl Sunday

Brandi Carlisle (one of my favorite artists) is singing “America the Beautiful” today, and what she said about the song stuck with me. As she studied all the verses, she found it to be less a patriotic anthem and more a prayer for where we need to go, not just where we’ve been.

When Katharine Lee Bates first penned the verses more than a century ago, she wasn’t merely describing wide skies and purple mountains… she was asking for grace, brotherhood, fence mending, and a dream that sees beyond the years.

In this moment — marked by fear and division, what if we treat this song as exactly that: a prayer?

A prayer that we see beauty even when the skies feel stormy.

A prayer that we choose grace when we are tempted by anger.

A prayer that we build brotherhood instead of walls.

A prayer that we mend every flaw in ourselves and in our country.

A prayer that our best gains are ones that lift up all of us.

That doesn’t mean ignoring the hard truths — it means turning toward them with humility and purpose.

So as we watch the game, listen to the notes, and take in the night, let’s hold those words not as nostalgia but as aspiration. Let’s be honest about where we are, and intentional about where we’re going.

May that prayer give us the courage to act with integrity, compassion, and conviction.

So for now, put the phone down. Watch the game. Call your people. Eat the wings. Rate the commercials. Put on your dancing shoes — as Bad Bunny said, it’s not important that you know the words, only that you move. Rest isn’t disengagement; it’s how we stay in the fight. The Super Bowl is one of those events where we move past our differences for a few hours and have community.

Thanks for being here—feel free to share. I’ll be back next week—right after church, before kickoff… or tip-off—as we fully swing into NBA season.

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That number is staggering — but what it doesn’t show is the part that lingers after the goodbye parties, the texts, the phone calls…

The moment you realize you may have to start over again.

According to the job placement firm Challenger, Gray & Christmas, employers announced roughly 1.2 million job cuts in 2025, one of the highest annual totals since 2020.

That’s a lot of people trying to find their footing in a landscape being reshaped by AI, changing viewing habits, and significant shifts coming out of Washington, D.C.

What does that mean in real life?

It means more people than ever are trying to pivot — into new careers, new schedules, new realities. Often that requires learning new skills, reworking old ones, or starting at a lower level in industries where your experience is transferable — even if your title isn’t.

But here’s the part I don’t hear people talking about enough:

How do you sustain in the meantime?

The rent or mortgage is still due.
Food still needs to be bought.
Tuition still needs to be paid.
The car still needs gas.

And beyond the logistics, there’s the emotional lift.

You were good at your job.
You mastered it.
And now you’re being asked — or forced — to start over.

UGH.

But here’s the thing I keep coming back to.

Most of us are experts — or at the very least, really good — at something. And despite what the economy says, people still need that thing.

A friend of mine said something that stuck with me:

“The independent contractor is back.”

Think about how often someone has said to you:
“Can I pick your brain about ___?”

That knowledge is worth something.

It’s also something you can do while you’re networking, retraining, and figuring out what’s next.

Find your thing.

And the next time someone asks to “pick your brain,” make it a barter.

Because your time is valuable.
Your brain is unique.

Stop giving away your insight, strategy, experience, and contacts for free.

It will feel weird at first to set a rate, but as Nike says, “just do it. Trust me.

This week, I was listening to Indiana Hoosiers quarterback Fernando Mendoza during his press tour following his impressive showing in the College Football Playoff.

He was asked why, with a year of eligibility left, he was declaring for the draft.

His answer stopped me.

He said he was a pretty good college quarterback — but he was ready to get better. Ready to master being an NFL quarterback.

And I thought: that’s it.

We master one thing — and then sometimes, it’s time to master something else.

That can mean relearning the basics.
Sharpening old skills.
Being vulnerable enough to ask for help.
Walking into rooms where you’re no longer the smartest one there.

It’s not easy.
It takes courage.

But there is absolute satisfaction in moving forward — even slowly — instead of standing still.

So this week, even if you love your job, ask yourself:

What is my time worth?
What is my expertise worth?

Don’t be shy about it.

And don’t be afraid to start at the bottom again — because there’s only one way to go.

You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You are not starting from zero.

You ARE starting from experience.

Now — Minnesota.

This weekend, I heard from so many of you.

Firsthand accounts of fear.
Of people being detained.
Of friends, neighbors, teachers, and family members disappearing from daily life.

And at the same time, I heard stories of people I grew up with marching, holding watch, buying food, praying, donating, and protecting one another.

It’s a complicated feeling.

I am deeply proud of my home state — and deeply heartbroken that it has come to this.

I’m trained as a journalist, so I turn to facts.

Let’s compare Chicago and the Twin Cities.

Chicago’s metro area has roughly 9.1 million residents. Reports indicate hundreds of federal agents were deployed as part of “Operation Midway Blitz.” That works out to approximately one agent per 20,000 residents — a presence that, while serious, remains somewhat diffuse in a city of that scale.

The Twin Cities metro area, by contrast, has about 3.7 million residents — yet approximately 2,000 federal agents have been deployed here under what officials have described as the largest immigration enforcement operation in state history.

That’s roughly one agent for every 1,850 residents — nearly ten times the concentration seen in Chicago.

That difference matters.

Because when enforcement density increases to that level, it doesn’t feel targeted — it feels unavoidable. It feels like a siege. Visible. Militarized.

And when you dig deeper into the numbers being cited, more questions emerge.

While federal officials report thousands of arrests — many labeled as involving “criminal illegal aliens” — independent reviews of court and custody records suggest that a significant portion of those figures include individuals already incarcerated in Minnesota state facilities, transferred to ICE custody upon release, and reclassified as new arrests.

Additionally, nearly one-third of those detained reportedly have no criminal record. Others are flagged for minor or decades-old offenses.

The result is a numbers game — one that inflates routine transfers and low-level cases into something that looks like a war.

And when you compare Minnesota to cities with far larger populations but far smaller federal footprints, it raises a troubling question many advocates and lawmakers are now asking:

If this isn’t about proportional public safety — what is it about?

Power.
Visibility.
Control.

And the fear that comes with all three.

For those who want to donate directly to charities in Minnesota, making a tangible impact, please check here.

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If this essay resonated, you’re not alone — and you’re not meant to navigate this season by yourself.

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I write What Stopped Me This Week as a place to pause, reflect, and make sense of the world — especially during moments of transition. Please comment below, tell me what you liked - and what you’d like to hear more of. Next week, I’ll have some stories of my first time at the Sundance Film Festival.

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Some of you noticed I didn’t post last week. I had that awful cold/cough that seems to be going around, and I was tired. But if we’re being honest, that wasn’t the real reason.

I had started working on an essay about how to find inspiration to get those creative juices flowing. And then the shooting death of Renee Nicole Good happened in my hometown. Blocks from where George Floyd was killed. Blocks I’ve walked on. Blocks where friends of mine live, raise kids, and go to work.

And then the stories started coming.

This friend was detained.
That friend stopped leaving the house.
My mother wasn’t leaving hers.
A teacher had ICE in her school.
An old accompanist of mine — who happens to be deaf (that’s a story for another day) — watched a deaf colleague get detained without an interpreter, and to this day they haven’t located him in the system.

Suddenly, writing about creativity felt shallow.
Talking about my undying love for the movie Sinners during awards season felt stupid.

So I didn’t write.

And even as my cold got better, I didn’t feel any better.

I am the child of immigrant parents — parents who came here legally from Panama and, for many reasons (none of them the weather :) ), chose to make Minnesota our home.

(For context: Minnesota isn’t a primary destination like California or Texas for migrants. We rank right in the middle of the pack nationally—with an undocumented population of about 2%—but that number is still higher than many of our neighbors. The community here is real, present, and vital.)

Growing up, the only thing most of my friends knew about Panama was that it was a Van Halen song. But my parents made sure I knew the stories — about the Canal, about how my great-grandfathers on both sides helped build it, about what it meant to shop in the Canal Zone, and what it meant when President Jimmy Carter gave the Canal back to the Panamanians.

My father was a Vietnam War veteran and is buried at Fort Snelling.
My mother, who still lives in the Twin Cities, was a paralegal who worked for some of the city's biggest firms, often bringing me to work during spring break while other kids were off skiing.

They raised me in a Black Episcopalian church centered in the heart of Saint Paul. (shout out Saint Phillips!)
They sacrificed to send me to a predominantly white private school. (Let’s go, Spartans!)
As their only child, they gave me every experience they could afford — figure skating and tennis lessons, clarinet and voice lessons, a deep love of theater, and countless trips to watch the Golden Gophers play basketball on that “weird” raised floor.

They had green cards for most of my life and became citizens after they retired.

My mother served on the Roseville Human Rights Commission, then the state commission, and was among the first trained mediators — helping countless immigrants adapt, navigate our laws in the United States, and belong.

I grew up experiencing Minnesota’s immigration patterns — from the Mexicans to the Hmong, to the Somali communities, and others. I saw their struggles and their triumphs, but mostly I heard how excited people were to be here. How Minnesota Nice could sometimes be deceiving — but how, by and large, people were grateful. Grateful for safety. Grateful for hard work and decent wages. For good schools. For a place where they could belong. A place where we play duck duck grey duck not duck duck goose.

The Twin Cities aren’t perfect. I can tell you stories of racism and unjust treatment.

But I can also tell you stories of support. Of friendship. Of love. Of bonds made that are so strong, I still talk to people from elementary school. I’m on text chains with kids I grew up in church with. The woman who lived a street over from me, with whom I played tag and rode bikes, just posted a video of her and her girlfriend protesting ICE. I am an anomaly living in New York - most Minnesotans are well-traveled, but they don’t leave. They stay in the state - why? Ask Prince. (iykyk)

Minnesotans don’t stop — no matter how cold it gets. Surviving a Minnesota winter together makes you respect one another on sight. Neighbors help neighbors who don’t look like them dig out of the snow. They bring cookies or a hotdish casserole when someone moves in. Give advice on how to dress for the cold (substance over style). They invite them over when they throw a BBQ. They ask awkward questions about your heritage — not always gracefully, but often because they genuinely want to know.

Minnesota is where, as a fourth-grader, I met a Holocaust survivor. She was my friend’s grandmother. She showed me her tattoo and let me touch it. If I close my eyes, I can still feel it.

Minnesota is where, as a seventh grader, I was allowed, after writing my parents a one-page justification, to miss school and march to make Martin Luther King Jr. Day a federal holiday.

Minnesota is where my father, a Black man, was an insurance agent whose territory was the northern part of the state, and he never once came home from those predominantly white towns upset about how he was treated, but it’s also where, if we went to a restaurant and we weren’t served within 15 minutes, we left. I am fully aware of its complexities.

When I was interviewing him, Spike Lee once found out I was from the Twin Cities and exclaimed, “That’s the land of interracial love and harmony.” I laughed and shook my head. The first true love of my life was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Swede — afraid to introduce me to his grandmother because she might be racist. He did. She wasn’t. And all was well.

For the past two weeks, I could tell you about the texts I’ve received. The Facebook posts from high school and college friends that brought me to tears.

But you don’t need my inbox — you see it every time you open your phone or turn on the news. It’s loud. It’s violent. And now it’s deadly.

During the George Floyd uprising, I said Minnesota was the perfect place for it to happen. Because Minnesotans are like siblings — they may not always like you, but they love you. They stick up for each other.

This is the land of Humphrey, Mondale, Wellstone, Klobchar and Waltz. But it is also the land of Pawlenty, Ventura, and Emmer. The place that birthed Prince, Dylan, The Replacements, Garrison Keillor, and Soul Asylum. It’s a place that knows right from wrong. A place that understands accountability — but also knows when the punishment doesn’t fit the crime, and when something is deeply, fundamentally unjust.

And Minnesotans know that what is happening now is not right.
And they cannot look away.

So yes — I didn’t write last week.

But I’m back.

And as much as I try not to write about politics, this felt bigger than that. We are at a point where the only thing that should matter is that we are all human beings.

Martin Luther King Jr. said,
“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

May we all stay safe.
But may we also speak up — for our neighbors and for ourselves — when cruelty is the point, when the punishment does not fit the crime, and when silence feels easier than truth.

Love, honesty, and respect may be the only things that can save us.

For those who want to donate directly to charities in Minnesota making a tangible impact, please check here.

Stand With Minnesota

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