Skeletons

I’ve taken more than a few lumps over the years for my choice of morning radio programming, but I guess I’ve entered the “rather hear people talking than singing” phase of my life. The morning program that I prefer is a Macon AM station that mainly discusses everything going on in the area, but they often branch out in to national politics as well. Why would I want to listen to gripes from a town 30 miles (and 50,000 people) away? Because it seems like everything that happens in larger cities eventually trickles down to my little town; maybe I’m just looking ahead!

This morning, after failing to get a rise out of anyone about the spending by the new school superintendent, the two hosts ended up discussing presidential choices with a local listener. She stated that she was still on the fence with the remaining choices and that her preferred candidate had already dropped out of the race. She said that he quit the race because of the quantity (and severity) of the “skeletons in his closet”. I hear this phrase used daily, but this morning it struck me as odd. I know this phrase is used to suggest something we have hidden; something that we don’t want others to see, but that we ourselves look at most every day. A skeleton in the closet is a secret.

But what is a skeleton really? A skeleton is the basic framework that each of us cannot live without. It is a complex network of shoring that separates us from simpler creatures. No two are exactly alike, and it gives us our personal identity. A skeleton is one of those things that you understand that everyone has even though it is not clearly visible; you have a skeleton, this is a given. It can only be viewed by others in two ways: with expensive x-ray equipment or when it is broken and pierces the skin…it comes out of the closet. Of course it’s visible in its entirety when you are dead, but at that point it is of no use to you.

So I say what a choice of words! To understand that in each of us there is this framework hidden just under the surface that is the true definition of who were are is a revelation. There will always be more to others than what meets the naked eye and how bad (or good) it will appear depends entirely on the moment it is parceled out. To be discovered something has to first be hidden. I don’t suggest that you should run to Walmart and confess to the shoppers in the produce isle that you smoked pot in college, but I do think that we could all be a little more open; a little more forgiving. Maybe we should all clean out the closet a little before the contents spill out and hurt someone!