The Ten Most Memorable Events of My Twenties

8. The Summer Before Law School
June-August 1996
Age: 22

This was the best summer of my life. I’d been accepted into UVa Law in the spring, so now I could relax; after so much drifting, a secure future finally lay ahead of me. Even better, I didn’t actually have to do any work yet.

I’d spent the year after college working a couple of different jobs at UVa. Since February, I’d been a full-time staff member at the UVa music library, a wonderful job because 1) the music department had been my second home as an undergrad, 2) I didn’t have to work too hard, 3) I liked my boss, and 4) I got to interact with students, many of whom I already knew.

All year long I’d lived in a dimly-lit basement apartment in Charlottesville, about a mile away from UVa and far from my friends. I liked having my own space, but I felt isolated. In May, though, I learned that a friend’s housemate was looking to sublet her bedroom out for the summer. I jumped at the opportunity — the house was only a short walk from the music building, the bedroom was bright and sunny, and I’d be living with people I liked. I gave up my month-to-month lease on my basement apartment and moved into the house at the end of June.

So I had an enjoyable job for the summer and I could walk to work. But that wasn’t the best part.

Summer in Charlottesville can be oppressively hot and humid, but it’s also empty and quiet, and you wind up bonding with your few friends who are still around. Three of mine — members of my old a cappella group — were in town for the summer, and the four of us formed a little gang; we hung out almost every night, or at least it seemed that way. Sometimes, toward the end of the day, one or another of them would come into the music library and listen to something or play a keyboard while wearing headphones, so I didn’t even feel like I was at work. Then, after the library closed at five or six, we’d walk up to the Lawn and throw a frisbee around. (I could barely throw a frisbee at the start of the summer, but I was very competent by the end.) At night, we’d grab some dinner, see a movie, or drink and watch a video.

That was the summer of the Atlanta Olympics: Kerri Strug’s moment of fame (which we missed because we’d gone out to see “A Time to Kill,” only to return to a house of yelling and cheering women who lectured us for missing such an exciting event), and the Olympic Park bombing. It was the summer of the TWA explosion, Bill Clinton’s re-election campaign, “Independence Day,” and the launching of MSNBC. It was the summer I discovered the “The X-Files.” (I was instantly hooked.)

When I think about it, “the best summer of my life” lasted less than two months. I probably saw my friends less often than I recall, and I’m sure many boring days have been wiped from my memory. But what stands out from that summer are close friendship, fun, and the certainty of finally knowing where my life was headed, or so I thought. I’d never had a summer quite like that before, and I’ve never had one since. It was the last carefree summer I ever had.