Boundary Stones | WETA's Washington DC Local History Website

It’s Election Day, and hopefully most of you are braving the weather and the lines at your local polling place to make sure your voice is heard. If you cast your ballot for a presidential candidate in the District, you exercised a right that has only been around since 1961; that’s how long DC residents have had the right to vote in presidential elections, a right granted by the 23^rd Amendment.

Well, the Redskins may have trouble winning football games these days, but they have proven quite effective at predicting presidential elections over the years. Since the team moved to Washington in 1937 there have been 18 presidential elections. In 17 of those, the so-called "Redskins Rule" has held up:

If the Redskins win their last home game before the election, the incumbent's party will win the election and keep the White House. If the Redskins lose, the challenging party's candidate will win the election.

So, what does this mean about this year's election?

I came across this photo while doing some research about the National Zoo. It's a picture of jazz quintet playing a concert for a polar bear in the 1920s. Errr... what? I'd really like to know what precipitated this. Did these dudes just wake up one morning and say, "Hey, let's go down to the zoo and play a set for the bears." "Good idea, I'll see if Gertrude is free to dance for them."? Well, in any case, the bear seems to be enjoying it. Or maybe he's just waiting for his chance to take a swipe at them through the bars.

See the full size photo »

Amish horses and buggies in the Washington, D.C. Metro area? Yep. It's true. Over 200 Amish families live and work in St. Mary’s and Charles counties in Maryland, less than 40 miles from downtown D.C. The settlement, which is centered around the town of Charlotte Hall, dates to 1939 when seven families migrated to the area from Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania for the cheap Maryland land(!) and to escape pressure from the Pennsylvania state government.

You’re sixteen years old, caught up in the intoxicating freedom that comes with your new driver’s license, and it’s Halloween night. You and your friends are driving around your small town looking for a quiet place far away from adult supervision. You decide to park on the side of the road near a secluded railway overpass. It’s the perfect place to get “up to something,” as your mother would say: woods creeping up on either side and the complete darkness you can only find on rural roads without streetlamps or nearby houses.