Our past is not past; it oozes into the present. Skeletons in the closet from generations past still drip, drip, drip into our lives. Sometimes this fuels possibility and opportunity, lighting a lamp for us. Sometimes these bones invisibly drip fuel onto the fire of our anxiety and rage. A buried past is not dormant. Ignoring the past is not a way to escape it. Indeed, the buried past probably takes more than it gives.
