Welcome back to The Daily’s Sunday culture edition.

Friendships sometimes fall to the wayside out of not malice but unintended neglect. When life’s responsibilities pile up, performing the requisite (though enjoyable) friendship maintenance can sink lower and lower on the to-do list. So we asked The Atlantic’s writers and editors: How do you like to stay in touch with your friends?

Lately, I’ve been trying to connect with friends when I find myself thinking about them—especially if it involves a funny memory that we share.

A recent example: I was driving on the Pennsylvania Turnpike a few weeks ago when a song came on the radio by a beloved female pop legend. My mind jumped to my friend Anne, whose husband is an old friend of said pop legend. Anne, however, is not a fan, because the artist was once very mean to her dog, Pancake.

Next thing I know, I’m calling Anne, whom I had not seen since before the coronavirus pandemic. I told her that I had just heard a song by this particular Grammy-winning, dog-hating singer—and that I did not enjoy the song, out of loyalty to Anne and to the memory of Pancake (since departed).

Great laughter ensued on both ends.

“I have nothing else. I just wanted to let you know I was thinking of you and why,” I told Anne.

“Thank you!” she said, still laughing. “This makes my night.”

The exchange took less than a minute. The joy lasted longer.

— Mark Leibovich, staff writer

***

Don’t get me wrong: I love—love—gabbing with the girls. But sometimes, I’m so tired that I can’t hold up my end of the chat. I haven’t a single juicy life update to share. I wish to simply listen to my friends talk—like a live podcast?—but conversation is apparently a “two-way street.” In these moments, there’s nothing better than sitting side by side, silently, in the dark.

I’m talking about movies! I’ve gotten in a lovely rhythm: Some pals and I have the app Mubi Go, which allows you to watch one film in theaters each week and does the work of choosing for you. This way, we know we’ll get together regularly; it’s just a matter of coordinating which day to watch. If the movie is one I’ve never heard of before, I like to show up without Googling the title, so I truly have no idea what I’m in for. Afterwards, we’ve got plenty to talk about; we compare notes over a snack or a drink, debating divergent interpretations or naming scenes that moved or frustrated us. And you know I’ll be sending movie-review links in the group chat until the next showing—so the dialogue never ends, in the best way.

— Faith Hill, staff writer

***

My roommate has a sweet, older black Lab named Ethel. Lately, I’ve been asking my friends to come with Ethel and me to the dog park near our apartment for some people-watching, especially now that the cherry blossoms are in bloom. We’ve seen a man playing the saxophone on our street corner, pickup-basketball games on the courts, and plenty of picnics along the field’s perimeter. While my friend and I catch up and exchange gossip, Ethel also gets to socialize with some of her friends: Pluto the dalmatian, Ruthie the Samoyed, Anchovy the Chihuahua. Going to the dog park is great because it’s low-commitment and endlessly entertaining; it gets me and my friends into the sunshine, and it gives Ethel an extra hour of playtime too.

— Genevieve Finn, assistant editor

***

I’m always reading books, watching shows, and listening to music that friends have recommended to me (which may help explain the tens of thousands of minutes I logged on Spotify last year). We talk about what we liked and disliked, and I’ll often send them recommendations of my own. It’s an easy way to connect with friends who live far away or have busy schedules: Why not make some time to listen to a good song?

Occasionally, this practice has taken me outside my usual viewing and listening habits. Once, a friend asked me if I’d watch horror movies with him, a genre that I wasn’t interested in—and a little afraid of. But he said that no one else would go with him, and I wanted to hang out. That’s how I found myself sitting in the front row of a theater, watching vacationers get picked off one by one in Midsommar. I surprised myself by growing to like the genre. When the pandemic hit months later, we saw a horror movie together almost every weekend over Zoom.

Of course, friendship is about more than just having the same taste. But investing in those points of connection can lead to other conversations, ones that go deeper than what’s on your screen or in your headphones.

— Will Gordon, senior associate editor

***

Much has been made of how people of my generation (Millennials) and younger don’t like to talk on the phone anymore. Texting is the primary medium of friendship these days. I accept this, and I do like to text (please, don’t stop texting me, friends!). But since texting took over, the phone call seems to have become a drawn-out affair. My friends and I text to schedule a time to catch up over the phone, and block out an hour or two on the calendar. It’s a Whole Thing, a big, hearty meal. As satisfying as this is, if that’s the standard we hold, we’ll be more reluctant to call one another regularly. And that’s a real shame.

The snack-size phone call is a dying art, but I’m trying to keep it alive. I love a random, unscheduled chat. I love to hear my phone ring and not see “Potential Spam,” as expected, but instead the name of a dear friend. I love to give a pal a quick jingle and chat for a few minutes while I’m walking to the store, or folding laundry, or even soaking in the bathtub. Hearing a friend’s voice and having them keep me company in life’s mundane moments is so lovely—even just for a couple of minutes.

— Julie Beck, staff writer

Here are three Sunday reads from The Atlantic:

The Week Ahead

Essay

The End of the ‘Generic’ Grocery-Store Brand

By Ellen Cushing

Read the full article.

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