Readers! Old hats and fresh fedoras, fried eggs and fresh-laid, wilting flowers and little spoutlings: welcome to The Yale Herald!
We’ve reached middle-age, officially. The Herald turns 40 this year: conceived in the summer of ’85, the first issue popped out on Valentine’s Day of 1986. But unlike a living, breathing sack of blood, guts and marrow, the Herald does not feel its age. Our back does not hurt, our hair has not begun thinning, our temperature can still self-regulate. This body moves better than it used to move: just you wait.
Look out for a big anniversary issue in February. But until then, we’ll give winks to the past, snapshots of our archives and self-aware participation in tradition. Flip the page and find a Herald classic: blurby notes and advice to any first-years out there, and any old ignoramuses who haven’t figured out the lowdown on coffeeshops or LaPlaBlaPa. The ol’ 203 can be a doozy to decipher in the early days, and we have been your first-stop shop for solid vibes colloquial advice for the last forty years—and will be for another forty, goddamnit.
But we’re always changing. When the Herald began, we were the free alternative to the pricey YDN, an alt source of global and local news and opinions and sports coverage. (Sports! We’ll bring that back, just you wait.) And over time we shifted, a kaleidoscope of the times. Now we’re a cultural magazine. The Culture Desk, long a staple of these pages, has been killed and scattered throughout the other desks. Read each piece and you’ll see the ashes everywhere: in Samuel Rosenberg’s inaugural column on election lotteries and in Jaxon Haven’s piece on Sydney Sweeney’s jeans debacle, in Aanika Eragam’s review of Every Brilliant Thing and Diego Del Aguila’s first thwack at re-mystifying the so-called “everyday.” (Who knew using “so-called” before any noun makes your writing sound so much better?)
Anyway, we know there’s a lot on everyone’s plates. Whether you’ve been fresh-laid in this city or waddling on creaky legs, beginnings are never easy. But soon, the so-called “journey” will be over (see?), and you’ll be wishing you were here again. So, don’t worry, and don’t make the mistake of seeing your world like the ant in our office who keeps looking for El Dorito. Go see your family, Ant-hony Edwards. And you! Reader! Do what Ant-hony can’t do! Read the Herald. We promise we will make it worth your while. Here’s to another 40.
Most Daringly,
Oscar Heller and Will Sussbauer
