A Drive Down Memory Lane

I have been given a wonderful opportunity to contribute to Norwood Patch in a unique way. I get to tell you stories about what makes Norwood, Norwood.

Before I go on I should tell you a few things about myself. I am what you would call a "Norwood statistic." Now that can mean a few different things. It can be someone who is born, raised and dies in Norwood; someone who married someone else from Norwood and raises a family in Norwood (ideally in one of their childhood homes); or, the category I and so many fall into, someone who grew up in Norwood, spread their wings and inevitably moves back. I love to write, to tell stories and to reminisce. I'm the mother of an amazing 8- year-old boy, who just might be mentioned in this column on occasion.

I moved to Norwood in 1979, a year after my grandparents moved here from Roslindale, and I can't imagine having grown up in any other town.

On a recent Saturday morning, I was stopped at a traffic light in the center of town. Now this is one of those rare and often overlooked moments where you have no choice but to stop, and as I looked out the window waiting for the light to change, I got a sense that something in my life was coming full circle. I realized it was this opportunity, the chance to write about my hometown, the town that became home to my family on a rainy day in 1978.

Out the window I saw what used to be Hanlon's Shoes. Now there is a restaurant there, on the corner of Vernon and Washington St., and it has been there for so long I almost forgot about that old shoe store. Before we even moved to Norwood, my mother and grandparents used to take me to Hanlon's a few times a year. It was the only place (or so I was told), to get my holiday Mary-Jane's, penny loafers or "buckle shoes" for school. I remember simultaneously dreading and loving those trips. There was something exciting about the way the older gentleman could always magically guess my shoe size. However, spending more then about 10 minutes in the wall-to-wall, dark green store didn't hold my attention for long.

The traffic light changed in perfect time with my thoughts. If you know anything about the lights in Norwood Center, you know if you stop at one traffic light you will inevitably end up stopping at all of them. Which is exactly what happened to me. As I took a sip of my coffee and continued ahead, I caught a glimpse of a building just off to the left. I pass this building almost everyday yet rarely think of what it used to be - the toy store. And it wasn't just any toy store. This was Sanko Toys. Aisles were stocked from floor to ceiling in the small space with all sorts of toys, though all I cared about were the Ginny dolls. In order to balance out the boredom of our trips to Hanlon's, my grandparents would take me to Sanko Toys to pick out a new Ginny doll or dress. Mr. Sanko never let children far out of his sight, even if you were clutching onto an adult as I was. He also never forgot a child's favorite toy - whether it was the little boy looking for a new Matchbox car, or me looking for the latest Ginny doll dress.

Now I've come to the final light. To my surprise and disappointment it is green. As I exit Norwood Center - and my quick trip down memory lane - I am reminded of something my son said to me not too long ago. At age eight, he already knows he lives in a town that is more than just a zip code; it is a part of his history. He said to me, "Mommy, I don't want to live in any other town except for Norwood, ever." When I asked him why, he said, "It's simple. Because, it has everything, it is home and it is the best place in the world."