So, here’s the thing about history: sometimes you read about it in textbooks, nod sagely, maybe even ace a quiz on the date, and then promptly file it away in your brain’s “Random Trivia for Jeopardy” folder. But sometimes (if you’re very lucky), you stumble into the actual physical space where it happened. And that’s when your brain short-circuits because the ghosts of the past are suddenly real estate you’re standing in. That was me at Ford’s Theatre and the Petersen House (aka “the house where Lincoln died”). Spoiler: I was so dumbfounded that I completely forgot to take pictures at the Petersen House. Whoops.