The Steven Spielberg edition of “Inside the Actor’s Studio” ends with Holly Hunter, Spielberg’s good friend and one of his favorite actors, crashing the taping. Host James Lipton calls Hunter to the stage and, after exchanging amused greetings, she asks Spielberg how he enjoyed the evening. Spielberg’s reaction reveals the magic of the show.

The Steven Spielberg edition of “Inside the Actor’s Studio” ends with Holly Hunter, Spielberg’s good friend and one of his favorite actors, crashing the taping. Host James Lipton calls Hunter to the stage and, after exchanging amused greetings, she asks Spielberg how he enjoyed the evening. Spielberg’s reaction reveals the magic of the show.

“Best time of my entire life,” he says to her.

Hunter’s eyebrows raise excitedly. “Really?” she asks, and he repeats himself.

As the audience resumes a standing ovation, Spielberg shakes Lipton’s hand and draws the host into an embrace. Spielberg speaks quietly into Lipton’s ear, but the microphone is still live, and the viewer can hear Spielberg tell Lipton, “I really want to thank you. I’ll never forget this.”

“Inside the Actor’s Studio” is a fascinating combination of education and celebrity worship. Lipton, who runs the New School film department, interviews Hollywood stars in front of an audience comprised of university film students and assorted film buffs, all of whom want an honest glimpse into an actor’s mind.

My parents had “Studio” tickets this past semester, and I attended one of the evenings (with Dennis Quaid as the guest). The night is incredibly long and intense: Lipton’s interviews can last three hours, and the Q&A sessions that follow can easily run an hour or more.

I assumed actors and directors who volunteered for the interrocation did so because of the honor, but Spielberg’s comments reveal something more.

“Inside the Actor’s Studio” makes these people feel special. Indeed, they are often placed on pedestals, sometimes against their will, but that is out of admiration or envy, dissociate characteristics to the craft of acting.

Lipton gives the interviewees a different angle: They are special not because of their celebrity, but because of what they do and how they do it. Not because of looks or humor or good casting, but because effort and accomplishment is seen and appreciated by people who understand the degree of difficulty behind such excellence. Celebrity is shallow; recognition of craft is an invaluable reward.

A man like Steven Spielberg can make money in his sleep and receive awards and bring things to life that touch the world. But for him, spending a few hours discussing his craft with an excited, impressionable audience, and being appreciated by his peers for the superlative quality of his craft, is a rare and special treat.

I’m engaged!

I met Amy in November 2000, a half-blind setup by my friend Steve and his fiancee, Ilysa, who had Amy crash drinks with us at the East 64th St Merchants NY. I didn’t know I was being marketed until the cab ride home, when Ilysa grilled me with, “What’d you think of Amy wasn’t she cute isn’t she nice do you want to call her I think you should call her here’s her number she’s expecting you to call so give her a call good luck,” and left me in the cab with a scrap of paper.

Dutifully, I called. Amy and I went on three dates in the span of a week and a half around Thanksgiving; the first was fun, the second two, less so. We were both intrigued but not quite “there.” Regardless, Amy invited me up to her apartment for a nightcap after our third date.

I turned her down and didn’t see her until January.

Prompted over the holidays by an insistent friend, I called Amy just after New Year’s 2001, curious about trying again. She called me back six days later. Our dates went much more smoothly, and our third date the second time around was a magical night at Jules in the East Village. We stayed out late listening to jazz and drinking red wine. Amy invited me up for a nightcap. This time I accepted.

Two days later, we had a swirling, all-night phone call, and somewhere around 3 a.m. I professed a desire to date her exclusively and see what happens. She thought I was mildly crazy but she ran with it.

We fell in love in the springtime: me first, declaring it at lunch outside her building, a little too earnestly; her a few weeks later, in a whisper, walking with me down Ninth Avenue. We spent the summer kissing, snuggling, holding hands, and looking googly-eyed at each other, as any happy lovebirds should.

In the year since, we have grown fully into each other’s lives. We look out for one another, take care of one another, challenge each other to be better and stronger individuals. More often than not, we are ridiculously romantic. I dote on her, bring her flowers, make the bed; she prepares my lunch, runs my errands, giggles at my jokes. We see each other every day and hate being out of touch for more than a few hours at a time. We are, in short, hopelessly in love.

Last summer, we went to the Charlotte Inn on Martha’s Vineyard for our first real vacation together. The weekend was romantic and wonderful. When we discovered this past spring that the puppy I was to give Amy would be delayed until the fall, Amy asked if we could go back.

I booked the room in mid-May and started planning.

My relationship with Amy is like none I’ve had before. No one excites, inspires, surprises, or adores me like she does. I have never been as caring, selfless, trusting or revealing as I am when I am around her. We share laughs, values, hopes and dreams. My friends and family cannot stop telling me what a wonderful person I’ve found, and I couldn’t agree more.

Saturday night in the Vineyard, after dinner at the inn’s restaurant, I brought Amy to a magnificent room filled with flowers and champagne. On the floor was a DVD player—she’d been asking—and in my pocket was an oval diamond in a platinum setting with trillions on the side, the ring of her dreams.

“Of course I will!” she exclaimed.

To my biggest fan and most devoted reader: I love you, Amy. I couldn’t be more excited to spend the rest of my life with you.

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