“This is how you hug,” my mother-in-law said to my teenage son. She wrapped her arms around him firmly, holding him tight and lingering just long enough to make her point. My son froze, his shoulders stiff and uncertain, his face fixed in an awkward smile. Gradually, his expression softened as he hugged her back—whether it was a reluctant acknowledgment that Grandma might be right or simply a concession so that he could get back to playing Fortnite.
Viktor Frankl’s book Man’s Search for Meaning is one of the most unique self-help books ever written. It’s not your typical “Ten Steps to Success” guide, and it’s not filled with quick fixes or easy answers. Instead, it’s a guide to living a meaningful life, born out of Frankl’s harrowing experiences as a Holocaust survivor. The book weaves together his personal story and the psychological principles he developed—offering not just inspiration, but a framework for finding purpose in life.
Sometimes, an idea is so good that everyone around can’t help but pitch in. Take the story of stone soup, a folktale about a traveler who convinces an entire village to create a feast out of nothing but a stone and a pot of water. It begins with skepticism, but with a little charm and some shared curiosity, the villagers contribute their carrots, onions, and spices. What starts as a trick becomes a celebration, a collaborative act of creation.
October 7th, 2023, was a day of tragedy, horror, and unfathomable loss. Everyone has their own way of carrying the weight of that day. Many people turn to memorials like the Nova Exhibition, which has been traveling from city to city, offering a raw, unflinching portrayal of the attack on the festival. Some colleagues from work attended, and I considered joining them. But even the video clips of the exhibition were enough to wake me up with nightmares. I knew I needed to find a different way to connect with what happened.
“You’re not wrong, but you’re not 100% right either.”
– Wise words from my boss Joshua Feldman
Imagine this scenario: A facilitator walks into an office to mediate a conflict between a boss and her employees. She begins optimistically: “This is a safe space. Share how you feel. There are no wrong answers.”
One employee jumps right in. “I feel like I work for a huge SOB with impossible demands.”
The boss barely pauses before replying. “I feel like my people are lazy, always looking for an excuse to leave early.”
For many nerds like me, The Big Bang Theory felt like more than just a TV show — it felt like validation. Unlike countless other sitcoms where nerdy characters were relegated to sidekicks or punchlines, this series placed them firmly at the center. It celebrated the quirks and passions that define nerd culture: an unabashed love of sci-fi, comic books, and video games, alongside the social awkwardness and intellectual curiosity that often accompany them. This wasn’t a world where debates about Star Wars continuity or the ethics of time travel were niche obsessions — here, they became full-fledged storylines.
If a nerd is someone whose every word and deed are predicated on the belief that appearing smart is more important than getting laid, then They Might Be Giants are, in fact, nerds: their music doesn’t sell sex; it sells smart-kid whimsy. Arty, melodic, and well wrought in a formal way, it bristles with wordplay and musical ideas. — Azerrad, Michael. “Urban Legends.” The New Yorker, August 12, 2002.
Friday night, Ari and I went with my high school friend Michelle and her husband to the They Might Be Giants concert at Kings Theater. It was an awesome experience, seeing so many middle-aged nerds getting together to celebrate the original nerd rock band. It’s like everyone took a night away from their crossword puzzles and board games to belt out songs about the capital of Turkey.
Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t look around once in a while, you could miss it.
—Ferris Bueller
There’s so much going on. My kids are growing up so fast, and I’m desperately trying to keep up with the whirlwind of changes in the world, especially with AI. Like many people, I feel this constant temptation to do more, more, more—thinking that if I can just be a little more productive, I can get ahead of all of this change and find happiness.
I’m pissed. Bestselling nonfiction books have been lying to me. I know I shouldn’t care so much about this, but these books hold an odd level of cachet in our world. Books like those by Steven Levitt (Freakonomics) or Malcolm Gladwell (Outliers) have ideas that I used to take seriously. But seem to go viral throughout culture, shaping the way we think and talk about the world.
This year, Yale honored Constance L. Royster ’72, the second Black woman to receive the Yale Medal (as far as I can tell), the university’s highest alumni honor. Ms. Royster was celebrated for her extraordinary contributions to Yale—her dedication, her advocacy, and her unwavering commitment to building a stronger, more inclusive community.
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