When my parents blocked off two weeks on our summer calendar, I always knew what to expect. They would pack us in the family van for our annual trip to Echo Lake, Montana—perhaps the only place worthy of the long drive we’d endure together. I was eager to see summer friends and cousins, arriving ready to take on the card games and competitions for which I’d been training for months. We floated from dock to dock in our canoes and paddleboats, then spent our evenings challenging each other to midnight swims, just so we could float in the dark, looking back at cabins.