American magazine, July 2016

Melody Powers
CAS/MA ’10
AMERICAN
American University magazine
Vol. 67, No. 1
MANAGING EDITOR
Adrienne Frank, SPA/MS ’08
ASSOCIATE EDITOR
Rachel Feingold
STAFF WRITER
Mike Unger
WRITER
Ali Kahn
ART DIRECTOR
Maria Jackson
DESIGNERS
Rena Munster
Henri Siblesz
PHOTOGRAPHER
Jeffrey Watts
CLASS NOTES
Traci Crockett
VICE PRESIDENT,
COMMUNICATIONS
Teresa Flannery
ASSISTANT VICE PRESIDENT,
CREATIVE SERVICES
Kevin Grasty
ASSOCIATE DIRECTOR,
CONTENT STRATEGY
Laura Garner
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Copyright©2016.
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The livin’ is easy
Here’s what I remember about my summer breaks in
suburban Phoenix:
When we were young, my mom sent my brother and
me to vacation bible school—any vacation bible school—to
keep us busy and her sane. My time with the Baptists and
the Lutherans eventually gave way to babysitting gigs
and a budding lawn care service, which came to an
abrupt end after my dad, whom I paid in Big Gulps, was
stung by a swarm of wasps.
Ours was the only house on the block without a pool,
so we relished housesitting when neighbors set off for
cooler climates. My brother and I also “cooled off” by
sledding down the stairs in a sleeping bag—a stunt which
mortified my mom when she learned about it last year.
There were trips to the library (I lived vicariously
through the girls of Sweet Valley High); excursions to
the dollar theater; sleepovers with my beloved grandma;
evenings at Skateland, singing along to DJ Jazzy Jeff
and the Fresh Prince; and twilight bike rides in the park
that snaked through our suburban development. I still
remember the joy of coasting down hills, the mist from
the sprinklers providing a delightful reprieve from the
sweltering Arizona heat.
As I got older, there was band camp, where I danced
with a boy for the first time, and soccer camp, where I fell
madly in love with the chivalrous young man who let me
stick my sprained ankle in his water jug. When I spent
one summer waitressing, my friends would come in for
burgers and leave dollar bills folded in tiny bows.
And then there were our family vacations. My
parents would strap the canoe to the roof and steer the
car toward Yosemite, the Painted Desert, and the Grand
Canyon—or as I would say, with a dramatic teenage
eyeroll: “that big hole in the ground.” I would take
Dramamine and pass out in the backseat with my
headphones on (much to my parents’ delight, no doubt).
Growing up, it seemed there was nothing
extraordinary about my summers. But looking back, all
those nothings mean something to me. This summer
I wish for you laughter and adventure, good books and
even better ice cream—all in the company of those who
mean the most.
32 1 POV
Before Facebook,
there were yearbooks
4 4400 Mass Ave
Ideas, people, perspectives
16 Metrocentered
34 Your American
Connect, engage, reminisce
Adrienne Frank
Managing Editor
Send story ideas to afrank@american.edu.
Correction: “Where History Lives” (March 2016) mistakenly
indicated that AU’s Archives and Special Collections are
private. The collections are open to the public.