Op-Ed: A Love Letter to Norwood
Dear Norwood, I can’t remember when I didn’t love you. When I was little, Mom and Dad and a half-dozen siblings would come to Perry Avenue, to Nana and PopPop’s house. It was so exciting after East Greenbush. We’d come down on the Thruway and get off at 233rd Street, and go down Jerome Avenue. I was convinced that the end of the No. 4 train at the Woodlawn station was the gateway to New York. You could see the world from Nana’s house — the subway, the Thanksgiving parade, or just feeding the ducks at Woodlawn Cemetery.
