Today Show Celebrates Hoda Kotb’s 25 Years at NBC With Heartwarming Tribute
It’s not every day that you see a national TV studio erupt in spontaneous applause, but that’s exactly what happened on Thursday morning as the Today show paused its usual cheerful chaos to mark a milestone that, frankly, feels almost impossible in the whirlwind world of broadcast news. Hoda Kotb—America’s big-hearted morning confidante, the woman who’s been there for everything from presidential interviews to pajama parties with Kathie Lee—has officially spent a quarter of a century at NBC.
Twenty-five years. That’s longer than some of her viewers have been alive, longer than the average marriage, longer than the run of Friends, The Office, and Modern Family combined. But if you ask Hoda, the years have flown by in a blink, and the secret, she says, is simple: “It kept changing.”
The Today show’s tribute was a masterclass in nostalgia, a montage that zipped through Hoda’s many eras like a flipbook of American pop culture itself. There she was, fresh-faced and bright-eyed, standing in hurricane winds in a plastic poncho. There she was, hair in every conceivable length and shade, interviewing presidents, hugging survivors, giggling uncontrollably with Kathie Lee and later Jenna. And there she was, just this week, eyes welling up as the studio surprised her with a cake and a flood of memories.
“I have to tell ya, I was totally—and continue to be—totally shocked,” Hoda told Jenna Bush Hager, her co-anchor and partner-in-crime for the past few years. “In fact, my mom texted me—she didn’t know—and she took a screengrab of the screen and wrote, ‘Oh, wow. 25!’” Hoda beamed, her signature warmth radiating through the screen, the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’ve known her for years, even if you’ve only ever watched from your kitchen counter.
But this wasn’t just a celebration of longevity. It was a celebration of transformation, resilience, and the quiet power of refusing to fit into anyone else’s box. Hoda’s journey at NBC began in the trenches, as a reporter for Dateline, where she spent years chasing stories that mattered, often under the radar, often feeling—by her own admission—like a “circle in a square trying to fit.” She remembers those early days vividly: “When I first got hired, I felt unworthy of that job, and I remembered them saying ‘Change your hair, change your clothes, change this, change that,’ like nothing was right about me.”
It’s a confession that resonates, especially in an industry obsessed with image and polish. Hoda, though, never let those early doubts define her. She became known as a clear-cut, no-nonsense reporter, the kind of journalist who could cut through the noise and get to the heart of a story. But even then, she was quietly, stubbornly, herself. And that, as it turned out, was her secret weapon.
Still, the path to Today was anything but smooth. When the opportunity for a lighter, looser role on the morning show opened up, Hoda was almost passed over. “If you’ve ever been one of those people who’s been put in a box, and I was because I only covered hard news … when the lighter fare came up, like this show, the bosses were, very early on, sort of against me getting it. They were just like, ‘Not her. She’s boring. Don’t pick her.’”
Imagine that: Hoda Kotb, boring. The same woman who would go on to dance with celebrities, share her adoption story on national TV, and become a surrogate big sister to millions of viewers every morning. But that was the perception, and it almost cost her the chance to show the world who she really was.
Enter Amy Rosenblum, a behind-the-scenes champion who saw something in Hoda that others didn’t. “Amy was one person who fought for me,” Hoda recalled, her voice thick with gratitude. It was Rosenblum who opened the door to a new chapter, one where Hoda could finally shake off the “boring” label and be, unapologetically, herself.
And what a chapter it’s been. From the moment she first joined Today, Hoda brought something different to the table—a willingness to be vulnerable, to laugh at herself, to share her flaws and fears as openly as her triumphs. She challenged the notion that news anchors had to be perfect, polished, and perpetually in control. “I didn’t realize, imperfections are actually what makes something work better,” she said, a lesson she’s carried with her through every twist and turn of her career.
The tribute reel didn’t just showcase Hoda’s professional highlights; it captured the evolution of a woman who grew up on camera, who weathered heartbreak and loss, who celebrated love and motherhood, who learned—again and again—that the only way to survive in this business, or in life, is to keep evolving.
There were clips of Hoda braving hurricanes, her hair plastered to her face by the wind, her voice steady as she delivered the facts. There were moments of raw emotion, like the day she shared her breast cancer diagnosis, and later, her joy at becoming a mother to Haley and Hope. There were endless giggles with Kathie Lee Gifford, their chemistry so infectious it became a cultural phenomenon, and later, an easy camaraderie with Jenna Bush Hager, as they swapped stories about motherhood, friendship, and the absurdities of daily life.
But perhaps the most powerful moments were the quiet ones—the times when Hoda listened, really listened, to the people she was interviewing. Whether she was talking to a grieving parent, a jubilant Olympian, or a nervous child, she made everyone feel seen, heard, and valued. It’s a rare gift, and it’s why, after 25 years, viewers still tune in not just for the news, but for Hoda.
As the celebration continued, the studio filled with laughter and tears. Colleagues shared stories of Hoda’s kindness off-camera—how she remembers everyone’s birthday, how she leaves handwritten notes for crew members, how she makes time for a hug or a word of encouragement, no matter how hectic the day. Fans flooded social media with their own tributes, sharing memories of how Hoda helped them through tough times, how her optimism and authenticity gave them hope.
And through it all, Hoda remained humble, almost bewildered by the attention. “It’s been such a fun 25 years,” she said, her eyes shining. “And I wondered why, in any relationship you have—whether you’re in a relationship with a friend, or boyfriend, or even a job. You wonder, ‘How does it not feel like all those years?’ And I think it’s because it kept changing.”
Change, it turns out, is the thread that runs through Hoda’s story. She never settled, never stopped growing, never lost her curiosity or her sense of wonder. She reinvented herself again and again, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. She chased stories around the globe, then learned to chase joy in the small moments—singing along to a silly song, sharing a cup of coffee with a friend, reading Goodnight Moon to her daughters before bed.
If there’s a lesson in Hoda’s 25 years at NBC, it’s this: You don’t have to be perfect to be loved. You don’t have to fit into someone else’s mold to succeed. You just have to show up, day after day, with an open heart and a willingness to learn. You have to keep evolving, even when it’s scary, even when it means letting go of who you thought you were supposed to be.
As the show wrapped up its tribute, Hoda hugged her colleagues, wiped away a few happy tears, and, true to form, made sure the spotlight shifted back to someone else. That’s Hoda—always generous, always grateful, always looking for the next story, the next laugh, the next chance to connect.
Twenty-five years. It’s a staggering achievement, but if you ask Hoda, it’s just the beginning. Because for her, every day is a new adventure, a new opportunity to grow, to give, to love. And for the millions of viewers who start their mornings with her, that’s the real gift—a reminder that, no matter what life throws your way, you can face it with courage, kindness, and a little bit of Hoda magic.
So here’s to Hoda Kotb—journalist, survivor, mother, friend. Here’s to the stories she’s told, the lives she’s touched, the barriers she’s broken. Here’s to 25 years of laughter, tears, and everything in between. And here’s to the next 25, whatever they may bring. Because if there’s one thing we know for sure, it’s that as long as Hoda’s there, mornings will always be a little bit brighter.
