Every year, one tree in my neighborhood jumps the gun and starts changing color in the middle of July. And every year, it sparks something in me — not dread for the end of summer, but joy for the season ahead.

The quiet power of letters and the way art — even in miniature — can carry messages of trust, balance, and open-heartedness. A gentle reminder of what still matters most.

In this Father’s Day essay, I try my best to honor the memory of a quiet, principled man who led with integrity and signed every card the same way: Love, Dad

I didn’t win a Tony. I didn’t direct on Broadway. But I built a life on my own terms, telling stories that matter, working with actors I believe in, and saying “yes” only when it counts.