44

The morning after.

I’m listening to Walk on the Wild Side by Lou Reed, who I discovered through Patti Smith’s memoir. It’s hitting. The next song is Sad Disco by flipturn. No idea. This is my Sunday NYC playlist, Retro NYC. It’s the first time I’ve listened to it since I’ve been back. I’m a year older. This is that post.

First, I feel lucky as fuck.

I get to write this. I have friends, acquaintances, and family who obviously love me. I’m not naive to that fact. Does anything else really matter? Outward projections of success? Money? Things?

The more experience I get, the less it does.

If my 20s were about money and selfishness, my 30s were about recognizing my values, and my 40s are about growing from the lessons of those decades, I’m here for it.

My wife wasn’t with me for my 44th. Not a big deal at all. We had just spent the previous eight or so days living la dolce vita in Italy and laissez-faire in France to the extreme. (Not the heat, though yes, we caught the beginning of the heat wave.)

I wanted to bring in 44 chillllll.

She had commitments in Seattle, so I stayed in NYC. My parents were here, so I brought them around, and they brought me around, each of us following the other's whims.

I woke up early for a weekend, around 6:30 a.m., made coffee, and of course the Facebook posts, texts, and Instagram birthday messages started rolling in. Then I headed to the gym.

At 10 a.m. I met my parents for breakfast at Friend of a Farmer, where we sat for a couple of hours talking while a light rain fell over a humid Manhattan.

Around 1 p.m., sitting in their hotel lobby, we—or really, I—decided, "Let's see a matinee." We ended up at The Fear of 13 on Broadway featuring Adrien Brody.

We took the R train from Union Square, which dropped us almost directly in front of the James Earl Jones Theatre.

The line was long.

But if I’ve learned anything about Broadway, it’s to buy directly from the box office. Everyone says to use the TodayTix app. I like rolling the dice. Somehow I’m now four for four buying tickets 30 minutes before curtain. Never rejected.

Broadway has become one of the biggest surprises of living in New York.

For some reason, live theater always felt...high school-ish to me. Just another stubborn opinion I carried through my 20s, 30s, and into my early 40s.

How wrong was I?

Every show has brought something different—the subject matter, the acting, the staging, the emotion. There really is a Broadway show for everyone.

Don’t sleep on it.

And there are options at just about every price point.

After the standing ovation, we headed back toward Union Square for an early dinner.

I know I’m basic when I say this, but I love the simple comfort and quiet sophistication of Union Square Cafe on my birthday.

Okay...it’s really the off-menu caviar tater tots.

You’re welcome.

With dinner behind us, we spent the next couple of hours in Gramercy Park with cigars, people-watching, talking, and doing absolutely nothing important.

Before heading home, my parents hugged me, kissed me, and wished me one final happy birthday.

Man, I’m lucky.

Once home, I settled into my classic evening wind-down.

Dean Martin. Shower. Coffee prepped for the next morning. Read a little. Sent 100-plus thank yous for the birthday wishes.

Then I slept.

Hard.

This morning, June 28, I woke up, started the coffee, turned on my playlist, read the belated birthday messages, wrote this...

...and now I’m heading to the gym.

I’m 44.

Mark AshleyJune 28, 2026