July 13, 5:00 P.M. En route. The Zephyr: Here I am this mid-July afternoon going home. And glad to be going home. Surely I care little about home and never have. Back to Nebraska to the hateful heat of summer, to work day after day, to monotony most would say. But glad! This long silver train makes swift passage. It is streaking across the flat Colorado country as I sit here alone. (Why should I be so near to tears?) The whole trip to Colorado is like a dream now. The whole thing drops from my shoulders now like a jeweled coat, and I lay it aside feeling I’ve never worn it at all.

The Yellowstone Park is something absolutely unique in the world, so far as I know. This park was created and is now administered for the benefit and enjoyment of the people. The scheme of its preservation is noteworthy in its essential democracy. The only way that the people as a whole can secure to themselves and their children the enjoyment in perpetuity of what the Yellowstone Park has to give is by assuming the ownership in the name of the nation and by jealously safeguarding and preserving the scenery, the forests, and the wild creatures.

I can’t accept the world the way it is. It’s too horrible, but I have to try to change it. My choice is either take it or do something about it — or try to do something about it. I think we have an obligation to those who have died and to those have survived. To try, never to stop trying to make it a more humane world. And that’s what I do and I ask others to do the best they can — try. And if we try hard enough and long enough, I’m confident it will come about.