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The Ghosts of Good Neighbors
Timothy Falconer
Sep 18, 2002
I went to Lehigh well before the Steel had shut its doors. At the start, my thoughts of the plant weren't fond. Looking down from the dining room in Rathbone Hall, Bethlehem Steel seemed like an industrial wasteland. I didn't particularly like the way the air smelled after each rainfall. When I gave people directions, I'd make them go out of their way to avoid the plant because I didn't want them to think less of where I lived.

Almost two decades later, my attitude towards the Steel has completely changed. As I drive down Third Street, or across the Stefko Bridge, I'm always stealing glances at what's left. As pathetic as this sounds, I'm nostalgic for something I never really knew.

Now I realize — the soul of the southside still resides in those twisted scattered scraps and empty buildings. The surrounding streets are saturated with decades of memory, of hard honest work, of good times & bad, of family dreams and joys. Those streets are haunted by the ghosts of good neighbors, whose stories I wish I knew.

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