Why is History so important?

As you get older you often think about different things. This week I've been contemplating my history a bit. How I came to be, what I am, what my son perceives of me and what his history is and what his future will be. The point is that I have a very rich history...much more rich than I at first thought. The older I get, the more I appreciate it. It's really hard to explain to someone who's ancestors came over on the boat with Christopher Columbus or is the great grandson of General Robert E. Lee. I think you get the point. I come from a long line of hard working people with a very rich history. They've worked with their hands, their feet, and their backs for their entire lives. Even my dad, God Bless his hard work. If you've ever heard the song..."Daddy's Hands". That totally applies to him. Every time I shake his hand I feel the history in them. The blisters and callouses, the cuts, imperfections from scarring. Dad, if I will never feel that I've thanked you enough. I know you and grandpa worked hard for everything I have. I hope you're proud of the fruits of your labor. I'm trying to make you proud. Mom, you too. I know what you went through in your life. It hasn't exactly been a cake ride. Waking up early all the time, making lunch, working in the fields, rasing us, etc. I can't forget your parents either. I still remember begging welito Chon that we needed to go already, that it was going to pour...and finally he picked up his hoe and off we were! Running for the "cavezera". Man, those were the days. He was working in the fields in his 70's. Amazing when you think about it. And grandma (both of them) were still making "lonches" for them. And here I sit, in an office, with my tools being my brain, my education, a couple of computers, and an appreciation for the blood, sweat, and tears that were endured before me.