I grew up in Youngstown, Ohio, a steel town in the northeast corner of the state.  When I was a child, it was common to see a fine film of rust colored dust in the air, on the surface of cars and buildings, and on the ground near the steel mills.  But when I was in college, the mills suddenly closed down, putting nearly 40,000 people out of work. The sky became much more blue and the rust film eventually washed away, but countless lives were forever altered after the mills were shuttered.  Some 40 years later, I can still feel the stories of grief and hardship encased within those abandoned mills, and if you are quiet enough, you might hear them, too.