I saw three layers of history at an event from which that I just returned. The Downtown Indianapolis Kiwanis Club conducted its 36th version of the Abe Lincoln Scholarship Luncheon. Local high schools nominate deserving high school seniors who have overcome extraordinary obstacles to be successful and promising students. Each student had a stirring, emotional story to share. It was wonderful, inspirational, draining, and sobering, all at the same time.

Three layers of history were there–living, breathing, organic. One was the stories of the students themselves. Their tales were their pasts. A second layer was, of course, the honoring of Lincoln’s life and example, a testimony to overcoming the odds. The third layer was that the program’s chairman was in his 26th year of service, with this year being his last. He wept as he gave his final invocation for the program.

Three layers. The roots of life go deep into each one. They weave together from one layer to the next.

Anyone who says that history is the dead past is not only wrong, they’re a fool.