Sunday mornings in Bay Ridge are quiet. I dozed away most of last weekend’s, drifting off among the gentle sounds of skateboards banging off curbs, whirring automobile tires or aircraft whining as they make their final approaches to LaGuardia. The noises reminded me of the sound I still miss after 45 years: the clip-clop of the horses drawing Freihofer’s bakery wagons.
I am an upstater, born in Troy, NY, and largely raised near Albany. Back then, when America’s local busine
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