Oldheads, younglings, and everyone in between––
Happy Herald season! After a glorious year of watching Will and Oscar march around Phelps 207 (rest in peace to our short-lived home), conjure grudges from thin air (shoutout Oscar for another tastefully curated blocklist… coming next week), and invent themes that put the “daring” in “most daring publication” (shoutout fish issue, we’re gonna run it back), it’s hard to believe that we’re the ones writing these LfEs to you dear reader, who will hopefully stay long after our time here has passed.
With each new iteration of the Herald, we can’t help but reminisce. But as much as we love to indulge in nostalgia, we must inevitably turn over a new leaf. As Fleetwood Mac so aptly put it: “But time makes you bolder / Even children get older / And I’m gettin’ older, too.” We follow in a forty year-old tradition of the most daring creative, journalistic, reflective, and critical prose this campus has to offer. The journey continues: We strive to capture the energy of the student body by building an inclusive space in which we prioritize craft, verve, and voice.
This first issue marks the transition between the end of summer and the start of the school year. It captures the many voices and quirks––old and new––that have defined the Herald. We hope these pieces offer a breath of fresh air in the whirlwind of new decisions and responsibilities. Herein, you will find the quintessential musings of a back-to-school-issue: words of wisdom from the Herald masthead to first-years, apprehensive or intrepid. Poems about love, fishing, and a first-year orientation program. But we also have some wild cards. Former EIC Will Sussbauer on grieving morally-gray male celebrities, Sam Bolitzer on the politics of a Yiddish slang term, Kira Tang’s review of a canine art exhibition, and oh so much more.
Part of being daring is not knowing what comes next, yet still facing the storm head-on. So as you all embark on your own journeys, embrace the turbulence. Let your thoughts be awkward and jumbled and a run-on sentence that is every editor’s worst nightmare. Write for the Herald even if that means cringing at your 19-year-old self years later. It’s all about the attempt.
Here’s to another daring year!
Angel and Hudson
