So, the time has come! “Wish you were here” has turned into “welcome back,” “miss you loads” to “see you later,” “slide to answer” to “meet me on steps,” “Join Zoom Class Session” to the creak of a Hamilton door. The campus our magazine has faithfully covered is at last, once more, a campus. First-years dress in long-planned Pinterest outfits and old friends hug on the steps. Professors no longer peer from odd angles into misdirected Zoom cameras, and students must (alas!) don pants. We all get to hug again.
The end of the virtual campus means the end of the virtual magazine, and The Blue and White staff certainly look good in blue and white. We’re thrilled to present our first print issue since February 2020. The transition back from the digital world has certainly brought its own obstacles: Loosening funds from the vice-like grip of a reeling post-Covid bureaucracy in time to deliver this issue proved, for example, quite the task. Word limits, which had receded only to the dreamlike memories of our beloved staffers, crashed down on first drafts like anvils. And I certainly didn’t know what “kerning” was—nor “reflow,” “drop cap,” or “glyph”—until the printers demanded a layout and Annie Poole delivered.
Our writers and illustrators offer you an energetic array of insights and explorations into the cobwebbed corners of our once-empty school. Alexander Aibel trails an unmoored horse, and Annelie Hyatt investigates the legends and secrets of a rich man’s mansion. Grace Adee profiles the sensational Sarah Kinsley, whom listeners from Lorem to DOPAMINE, Next Gen to free refills should know well. Claire Shang, perspicacious as ever, reports on student involvement in progressive politics in the social media age, and Tarini Krishna reflects on the apertures and advantages of campus cultural organizations. I also invite you to enjoy this issue’s duel between Hart Hallos and Cy Gilman, two newly minted swordsmen, over a certain twig-legged alumnus and his peach.
If you’re feeling nostalgic for in-person nights gone by or excited for first flings to come, a coterie of Blue and White seniors have logged their fondest memories of campus weekends with elan. Dante will certainly have comforting words for you if the Big Apple has you feeling a little, well, small. And if the dining hall your tour guide sold you on has proven, on first taste, less delicious than disgusting, enjoy a conversation with famed gourmand Melissa Clark, whose recipes Lyla Trilling tests.
Loyal readers will note the absence of some beloved columns from our print issue, but never fear! We haven’t done away with old Verily or the shortcut. You can find them, and more Features, Essays, Blue Notes, and Campus Characters—even a second Conversation—on our website, theblueandwhite.org. Glut yourself on our colorful and lengthy September release, of which this bound blue treat is only a taste.
We’ve awaited this reunion for seven cycles. Much has changed at The Blue and White since last we hit Low Steps for distribution, but we think the quarantine cut suits us well. It’s so nice to see you again.
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