Many years ago, on a Sunday, I was home writing a new project and the work felt labored and forced. I was not having a good workday. The phone rang and it was Steve, who was in a similar state of mind with a project he was working on. We chatted for a while—always a treat—and then I hung up and decided to take a break. I went and turned on the TV a

as we were walking over to the opening-night party at Sardi’s, my father said sweetly, “You didn’t tell me that you put your grandfather in the show.” I had never met his father, who passed away long before I was born and about whom I really knew nothing. “What are you talking about, Dad?” I said. “My father, Louis. He was a baker.” That stopped me

memory is uniquely personal and, as time passes, the facts of an event are often rewritten to reflect the teller and the stories he or she chooses to hold true.

Yvonne sang the second line, “It’s hot and it’s monotonous,” someone yelled from the audience, “It sure is!” People laughed.

Turtle Bay townhouse

Clement Wood’s rhyming dictionary.

Also, shelled peanuts if anyone got hungry. (A nod to Jimmy Carter.)

creating this musical about making a work of art was a unique moment for all of us, and in some cases a defining one.

I mean, it’s always an issue when a new thing appears in the budget. It can put everyone in a state of panic.