Ilove Washington, DC. As a citizen, patriot, and history and genealogy nerd, it has no rival in my heart. I do not love it because it is perfect, but because it is mine. I feel the same way about my country.

The first time I went to Washington, I traveled with my brother and sister in my brother’s VW bug. It had a heating system in name only, and it wouldn’t start if it was rainy, misty, or humid — or if it just wasn’t in the mood.

We stayed in a youth hostel. It was in a “bad part of town,” meaning that we had to step over people sleeping on the sidewalk to get where we wanted to go. I remembered thinking that it was a shame, in a country like ours, that these people had no homes.

We went to the Ford Theater, where President Lincoln was assassinated, and saw a play — I don’t remember w

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