Letter from the Editor 02.01.2022

I’ll let you in on a secret: I’m bad at keeping up with my friends.

I joke that it’s an issue of object permanence—that as I naturally begin to see someone less, I have a difficult time remembering they exist. And as cruel as it sounds, sometimes it’s true. As my schedule and inbox fill up with work and I run from meeting to meeting, I notice that more and more people I once saw every day barely even cross my mind anymore.

I don’t think I’m alone in this. Being a young adult is all about change—you move apartments every year or two, live with new people, take new classes, and work new jobs—and you make peace with whatever was left behind. A lot of your high school friendships fade, replaced with college friendships that shift just as quickly.

I think the truth is that I’m just bad at having acquaintances. I’m bad at allowing people to only exist on the outskirts of my life without fading away. I’m bad at maintaining a relationship once convenience or proximity disappear. 

We often romanticize staying in touch for the sake of staying in touch—high school and college reunions are evidence of this—but I’ve always felt comfortable with friendship’s transience. People will inevitably come in and out of my life, and that’s okay. I shouldn’t need longevity or shared history to appreciate the ones who are here now.

After all, isn’t it more important to nurture the few friendships you really care about than to maintain a dozen half–assed ones?

For this issue, Street’s staff talks about relationships—our profile of James the Seventh digs into how her family and past inspires her music today, and our piece on Rosie Nguyen and Fanhouse explores how content creators interact with fans online. This week’s feature explores the Penn men’s basketball team’s decision to sit during the national anthem, and what that meant to its players.