How did you build your village? We asked NPR’s audience this question in our newsletter in January, inspired by Life Kit’s interview with Priya Parker on how to create community.

The key is to start imagining the community you might want to live in and then take steps to make that a reality, says Parker, a conflict resolution facilitator and the author of The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters.

Many of our readers have done just that. We received dozens of responses from folks who’ve found creative ways to make lasting connections where they live.

One person said he’d gotten closer to his neighbors by hosting a weekly coffee date. Another strengthened her network of mom friends by organizing a night out. One man grew a garden in his front lawn just to have something to talk about with passersby.

Here’s a sampling of village-building activities from our readers. These have been edited for length and clarity.

Throw a party for your neighbors (and get their contact info) 

I live in a cul-de-sac with about 20 homes. We organized a Memorial Day cookout, invited the neighbors and requested their contact information. We have used the information to check in during power outages and weather events, like tornadoes. It helps us feel more connected to our neighbors, many of whom we would not know otherwise. — Linda Ray Miller

Find comforting ways to help out during hard times 

I grew up in a tight-knit Southern neighborhood where people just seemed to know what to do in times of trouble. If there was a major illness, a death in the family or any other difficult situation, the freezer-friendly meals, offers to babysit and cards of condolences would flood in. Everyone stepped up to make those who were struggling feel less alone and take burdens off their plate. — Annie Lerner Smithson

Invite neighbors out for coffee and conversation 

We have a wonderful new café in town, and I’ve been hosting a weekly table where I invite two neighbors to come and have coffee and conversation. It is now more important than ever to reach out to those who may not share our views, so that when a big tree branch falls across our driveway, we’re going to feel comfortable enough to go down the road and ask to borrow a chain saw. — Christopher Irion

Grow a garden as a springboard for small talk 

I had a very small front yard of grass and formal landscaping. I removed them and planted bulbs, perennials and blueberries. This gives my neighbors something to be interested in and something for us to talk about. It also motivated my immediate neighbors to plant flowers. — Friday Ululani

Make the mom village you wish you could have 

When my daughter was young, we noticed another child at her day care who seemed to have a similar personality. We sent a note home asking if they wanted a play date and have since become very good friends with that family.

A few months later, I was chatting with a few moms during day care pickup and suggested a night out for a drink. One of the moms literally gave me a hug! Six of us [now regularly] go out for “mom’s night out.” We’ve even got the dads going out for trivia once a month as well.

I’m so glad I didn’t stop at one mom friend and opened up my circle and created a village! — Emily Johnston

Share what makes you happy 

My daughter died a couple of years ago and I needed to have some sort of purpose to live.

With a bit of meditation, I realized what had always made me happy in life: sharing food, stories, music, art and games.

This is what I’ve begun to do. I started with potlucks. Then potlucks with an open mic. We’ve gone on to gathering around the fire with instruments and stories, bowling once a week and attending the local girls’ roller derby.

I started with just four couples, and now [the group numbers] 24. I expect this spring’s/summer’s potlucks will expand the group by a lot. — Terry Garrett 

Support a local business 

I just started a Punk Rock Movie Club in my little town of Catskill, N.Y. I wondered if anyone would come. In less than a week, 55 people in the Hudson Valley signed up to be members. It supports the theater that has reopened and gives me an opportunity to share my guilty pleasure and build a tribe of enthusiasts. — Jenny Toomey

Send them snail mail 

My favorite hobby is snail mail. I send over 200 letters and packages every year. I have a huge stash of supplies: cards organized by sentiment, a crate of fun things I can throw inside the card and a giant collection of stickers.

It’s a calming and fun activity, and it sincerely has led me to remain connected with people I otherwise would have completely lost touch with. — Mandy McGee

Thank you to those who emailed us with your responses for this callout. Stay in touch with Life Kit and sign up for our newsletter. You’ll get a weekly dose of expert advice on health, money, relationships and more.

The story was edited by Malaka Gharib. We’d love to hear from you. Leave us a voicemail at 202-216-9823, or email us at LifeKit@npr.org.

Listen to Life Kit on Apple Podcasts and Spotify, and sign up for our newsletter. Follow us on Instagram: @nprlifekit.

Brandi Glanville
I GOT FACE PARASITE FROM BOOB JOB

Published
February 18, 2026
1:00 AM PST

If there’s anything I miss in pop culture, it’s the presence of ordinary movies. I don’t mean blockbusters like Avatar or cultural events like Barbenheimer or Oscar contenders like One Battle After Another. I’m talking about the routine, well-made entertainments that, for nearly a century, used to open in theaters every week. You’d go see them because the story sounded good or you liked the stars or you just wanted to enjoy something as part of an audience.

I was reminded of how much I’d missed them as I watched Crime 101, a pleasingly rare example of what used to be commonplace. Based on a 2020 novella by the terrific crime novelist Don Winslow, Bart Layton’s movie boasts a slate of top-notch stars and puts a nifty, self-conscious spin on the old-fashioned heist picture. Hopscotching through Los Angeles’ glamor and grit, the action centers on three solitary characters, each at a personal Rubicon.

Chris Hemsworth plays Davis, a virtuoso jewel thief who pulls off clockwork robberies in neighborhoods along the 101 Freeway. A study in terse masculinity — Davis is a Steve McQueen fan, it’s worth noting — this control freak gets knocked off his bearings by running afoul of his mentor (played by a menacing Nick Nolte) and by getting involved with a charming publicist (Monica Barbaro) who wants him to open up.

His nemesis is an honest police detective named Lou, nicely played by Mark Ruffalo. Rumpled and brainy, Lou’s got an unhappy wife (Jennifer Jason Leigh) and an unhappy boss who tells him to stop chasing the 101 jewel thief and start padding LAPD arrest stats by closing easier cases. But Lou’s obsessed.

Both he and Davis wind up crossing paths with Sharon (an excellent Halle Berry) who works selling high-end insurance to rich jerks (one played with fine jerkiness by Tate Donovan). Waiting for a promotion that never comes, Sharon suffers from insomnia — her sleep app chastises her — and seeks refuge in self-affirmation tapes.

Chris Hemsworth plays a jewel thief and Halle Berry is an insurance broker in Crime 101.

Merrick Morton/Amazon MGM Studios

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Merrick Morton/Amazon MGM Studios

Now, if you’ve ever seen a heist movie, you know that the action will inevitably build to a big robbery that brings all the principals together. Crime 101 does this quite deftly and even stirs into the brew a young thug, played by Barry Keoghan in comical blond hair, whose run-amok emotions make him dangerous. That said, one of the movie’s pleasures is that it isn’t clogged with action sequences. It’s got an old-fashioned interest in character, especially compromised characters, and gestures at darkness rather than diving into it. It glistens with the silver-lined optimism you find in Elmore Leonard.

The dialogue is intelligent and often witty; the stars seem like stars; the tension keeps building. And now that filming has largely abandoned LA, it’s a treat to see a movie that once again captures the many textures of the city, from its taco stands and snaking freeways to its yoga-mat beaches, billionaire mansions and encampments on the streets. Layton lets us see how the whole plot is driven by the abyss separating the entitlement of LA’s haves from the struggle of its countless have-nots.

Winslow’s original novella appeared in a collection called Broken, and that’s a handy clue to what makes this movie interesting. Davis, Lou and Sharon are all wounded, but essentially decent people who follow specific codes of honor. Davis’ robberies take care to never ever hurt anyone; Lou doesn’t bust innocent people just for the arrest stats or cover up police shootings like other cops; Sharon behaves like a proper insurance agent, believing she’s helping people feel safe and climbing the corporate ladder diligently.

Yet they inhabit a broken reality. Davis’ fellow crooks don’t actually believe in honor among thieves; Lou’s colleagues care less about justice than covering for each other; Sharon’s bosses think that women agents age-out because rich male clients only want to deal with hot, young ones. As the story builds, each must confront this broken world, and decide whether or not to do some breaking of their own — starting with their own personal codes.

Naturally, I won’t tell you what — or who — gets broken. But I will say that Crime 101 pays off neatly. Probably too neatly. But I didn’t mind at all. That’s how ordinary movies are supposed to end.