I'd like a pop-up magazine with 45 articles on Russell Crowe.

Caroline Rhea once spoke with playful candor: "I'd like a pop-up magazine with 45 articles on Russell Crowe. I'm like a teenager. I'd have 'Teen Beat' if I could, for grown-ups." Behind her humor rests a deeper reflection on the enduring nature of admiration, the timeless spirit of fandom, and the way youthful enthusiasm can survive well into adulthood. She confesses, without shame, that the passions we associate with youth—adoration, fascination, delight in a figure of charisma—do not simply vanish when we grow older. Instead, they remain, dressed differently, but alive all the same.

The origin of this quote lies in Rhea’s career as a comedian and actress, known for her wit and lighthearted honesty. By referencing "Teen Beat," a magazine that once fed the dreams and obsessions of young readers with endless photographs and stories of their idols, she places herself squarely in the lineage of youthful longing. Yet, she makes it clear: even as a grown woman, she feels that same spark of excitement, her admiration for Russell Crowe carrying the energy of a teenager’s crush. In this, she acknowledges a universal truth—the heart does not age as quickly as the body.

History has seen many such examples where admiration transcended age. Consider the noble Dante Alighieri, whose lifelong devotion to Beatrice—whom he first saw as a boy—continued to inspire his poetry well into adulthood. Or the crowds of Shakespeare’s admirers who gathered to hear his plays, their rapture at his art resembling the fervor of youthful devotion, even among the mature. The phenomenon is not new: the ability to admire, to be captivated, to celebrate another’s greatness is a timeless human trait.

Rhea’s words also speak to the joy of embracing one’s inner youth. She does not mask her excitement under a veil of adult seriousness. Instead, she claims it boldly: “I’m like a teenager.” In doing so, she shows us that to retain the wonder, humor, and enthusiasm of youth is not immaturity, but strength. For too many lose this spark as they age, exchanging passion for cynicism. Rhea teaches that it is no shame to delight in the brilliance of another, no shame to be an adult who still feels the heart race at a magazine spread or a story well told.

At a deeper level, her longing for a “pop-up magazine with 45 articles” reveals the hunger for connection and immersion. Just as teens once surrounded themselves with posters and stories of their idols, so too do adults yearn for narratives that inspire, entertain, or uplift them. The difference is not in the desire but in how society perceives it. What Rhea dares to say aloud is what many quietly feel: that fandom is not bound by age.

The lesson for us is clear: never be ashamed of your enthusiasms. To admire another person’s talent, courage, or beauty is to recognize the greatness possible within humanity. It is not childish to celebrate these things; it is deeply human. Whether it is the voice of a singer, the craft of an actor, or the genius of a thinker, let yourself be moved. Do not kill the spark of passion in the name of appearing “mature.” For true maturity is not the absence of wonder, but its wise embrace.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, learn from Caroline Rhea’s honesty. Guard within yourself the fire of youth, the capacity to adore, to celebrate, to admire without irony. Find joy in the gifts of others, and let their brilliance ignite your own. For the heart that admires is the heart that is still alive, still open, still capable of love. Do not fear being “like a teenager”—fear instead the day when no one inspires you anymore. For inspiration is the breath of the soul, and without it, we wither.