When I was little, I spent a lot of time at my grandparent’s house. On one of those days we were sitting on the porch together, breaking up beans, when I noticed Papaw’s work boots by the door. They were old, I’m sure he’d had them since before I was born. “Papaw, you need new boots.” He looked over to his boots. “What do I need new boots for?” he replied. “Well...They’re old.” I said. Calmly and with patience in his voice, he replied, “Just because they’re old doesn’t mean I need to throw them away.” Well, Papaw was right. Just because something is old doesn’t mean its ready for the trash. That old stuff is history. Our history. All of us.