Editorial: My immigrant family learned about US in national parks; raising entrance fees a bad idea
When I was 7 years old, my father packed our family into our blue minivan and drove 930 miles from our Illinois home to the Black Hills of South Dakota. From there, we traveled to Mount Rushmore and the Badlands. Then west, to Devil’s Tower in Wyoming.
I remember my 2-year-old brother pulling himself up to meet my face in his travel crib. My twin 5-year-old sisters struggling to retain their toilet training on long hikes. My mother cry-laughing in terror over mules we encountered on the road.