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Letter from the Editor

Letter from the Editor 2.6.19

On loving friends I've made through Street


agw letter week 3
34th Street File Photo

I’m going to write my letter this week about something that’s constantly on my mind: my friends.  Without Street, I wouldn’t have friends in college. Okay, maybe that’s teetering on the edge of hyperbole. But I wouldn’t have the same friends, and my friends now are the kind of friends who make working near–constant hours in a windowless office sound appealing. At the very least, they’re the kind of friends who are down to complain about it together. 

Dani, our storied former managing editor, is one of the first people I remember seeing in The Daily Pennsylvanian office. With her tousled brown hair and eyeliner smudged just so, I thought she was the coolest person I’d ever met. And I barely even knew her. 

My sophomore year, after I was first hired as an editor, Dani and I got coffee. To this day I’m not sure if we got coffee as friends or as coworkers, but all of a sudden, we were together constantly. She helped move me out of my dorm. She brought me soup when I was feeling sick. She was the one who first encouraged me to run for the 134th board of the DP. 

I still have her green text message embalmed in a screenshot. “Hey, you should consider running for assignments editor.” I didn’t realize I could.

Freshman year, I met Sabrina. She was a newly hired staff writer, I was a tech beat. What a meet–cute. We first got to know each other at Street socials–dubbed “Strocials”–and soon fell into a pattern of texting, hanging out, swapping articles we’d read, bingeing Buffy the Vampire Slayer on my couch. 

And then there was Angela, Street’s former audience engagement director. Angela’s witty, Whartonite humor carried me through a stressful year. Earlier this week, I made dumplings at her house. We often buy the same clothes now if we see each other wearing something cute. It’s the little things. 

And how could I forget Autumn? We met on a Dining Guide assignment for Street three years ago. In May, I’ll be a bridesmaid in her wedding, draped in a pinkish dress.

I never know what to write about in these letters. Sometimes writing them feels navel–gazey, like I’m fumbling to fill space. But they say write what you know, what you care about. And those are my friends. 

I can’t list every friend I’ve made from Street or the DP–it’ll take up too much space, and I’ll inevitably forget somebody. But here’s to word counts: Harry, Sarah, Daniel, Dalton, Lily, Ethan, Sam, Julia, Nick, Remi, Isabella, and so many more. Thanks for giving me something to write about. 


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