There I was today, standing in a doorway, mere inches behind a now empty chair, overlooking the stage of the Ford Theater where over a hundred years ago, on a dark day in our nation's history, John Wilkes Booth stood in my place. From only six inches away, he fired a bullet into the back of Abraham Lincoln's head, stabbed his guest, Major Rathbone, and clumsily leaped the 10 feet down to the stage. Whereas the rest of theater is not worthy of any special mention, the spot behind Lincoln's chair changed the whole feel from ho-hum to eerie.
Yesterday, we went to the National Zoo. It was nice that it was free to get in, though based on the meager quantity of exhibits and animals, I think they should start charging admission so they can get something worth seeing. It pales in comparison to almost every other zoo I have ever seen. It would have been a waste of day if I hadn't had such good company.
I have been trying to get over to the National Portait Gallery and Museum of American art. Maybe today.
