Opioid crisis

There is a vacant lot at the edge of downtown Philipsburg, Pennsylvania, my hometown. Three years ago, a handsome, sturdy brick factory building stood in that lot, albeit most of the windows were broken, as it had been abandoned for years. After it closed, the building became a favorite hangout for ne’er-do-wells, whose act of arson forced its recent demolition. For decades, though, the clothing factory employed thousands of people and made downtown hum, as workers crowded the restaurants and took care of errands on their lunchbreaks. They – along with the hundreds of people employed by a cigar plant on the outskirts of town – also bought houses and rented properties here and supported locally owned pharmacies, barbers, hardware stores, grocery stores, and the hospital.