The Eliza Richardson Fountain on Main Street has long been a mystery. Who was she and why does the fountain bear her name? Answers were hard to come by, but as various records were unearthed, they began to piece together a picture of a fascinating woman deserving to be remembered.
My grandfather, Woody Rehm, 88, grew up the sixth of seven children during the Great Depression. Like most families during that time, they were poor. The Rehms moved often, all over town and sometimes just down the street, looking for cheaper rent.
Work was scarce. Woody’s father, William, was a painter and his mother, Agnes, stayed at home.
Few places hold memories so dear as the neighborhoods we grew up in. No matter how long we’ve been away, or how much time has gone by, the sights and sounds of childhood always seem to leave their indelible mark.
At 98 years old, Mervin Shiner is a testament to this fact. His recollection of adolescence is as clear and vivid as ever. Several years ago, I had the privilege of interviewing Merv about his childhood neighborhood in North Bethlehem, the same one I grew up in 70-some odd years later.