M y grandmother, father, little sister, and I, posing in front of a big white rental car somewhere in Yellowstone. We set out from Ankeny, Iowa on a quest to discover some wonders of this strange country for ourselves. During our time in Yellowstone, highlights included a family of brown bears crossing the road in front of our car and a solitary bison who seemed to enjoy the Ta Ra Rum Pum soundtrack. My sister loved the rainbow-sheened hotsprings. I remember a tour guide correcting the way my parents said “geyser”— Guy-zer, not Gee-zer. We happily disregarded this. Old Faithful didn't care what it was called; it towered above us all regardless of pronunciation. My grandmother recalls the trip with particular fondness and says, “I go into a different world when I see those pictures.”