I mentioned the riggers in my last story about Dad’s experiences at the Bethlehem Steel; they were one of the roughest and best paid shops in the entire company, and they knew it. The riggers did all the work on the high steel, often balancing on I-beams in wind or snow or rain. They often brought their young sons in to send them walking along the ( Read more... )

Dad’s Stories: How I-You the Syrian almost became an I-Beam ( Read more... )

Be warned, the end of this story might be genuinely disturbing to some folks ( Read more... )

Dad’s Stories: Tales from Ingot Mold #4 ( Read more... )

This is a story that should resonate with some of the people I know here. And I’m kinda surprised that I remember Dad telling it. Be warned: some of this may be offensive in an un-PC way ( Read more... )

Okay, this is a less than pleasant story here, but it’s one I have to tell. If only because I can’t get it out of my mind unless I do this ( Read more... )

Be warned, long entry ( Read more... )

Just recently found out something about Dad that surprised me. Some of you may remember my once commenting on how my father lost all feeling his his feet after an accident at the Bethlehem Steel where some molten steel splashed onto the floor. It was just enough to form a layer on the floor, and it ran under his feet (he had work boots on). He said ( Read more... )