There’s a little town in Upstate New York. It’s not much of a town, really. It’s run down and shabby and pretty low income. Everyone seems to know everyone else and their business, the local barbershop really is a great place to get the town gossip. Once upon a time this town had a paper mill. I guess it wasn’t really different than any other mill.
At one time most of the men in this town worked at the little paper mill. Men moved here from other states for the opportunity, because once upon a time getting your hands dirty was considered an honest days work. Some men put 25-30 years of sweat and backache into this little mill. Then one day the mill closed. Men moved on to other jobs or retired and the town suffered. But that’s just the way things are in our modern America, so no one outside this little town really noticed. Years passed and the buildings stood next to the river, their empty shells a fading reminder of what once was.
Today they began tearing down the mill. There’s no assurance that anything will ever take it’s place, but it’s time for the hollow shells to be no more
(click the pictures to see them full size)
Soon there will be only pictures. The men that toiled in this mill are slowly dying or dead and it seems that no one really tells stories anymore. Great great-grandchildren will never know, even wonder what their ancestors did to put food on the table once upon a time. Because this once upon a time with be replaced by a newer shinier once upon a time. Until those pages also begin to yellow and curl, and then the cycle will start all over again.