Northvale, NJ

Nothing says home more than the smell that overcomes our noses the moment we step into our house. In my home, it is always the aroma of Filipino food being cooked by my grandma slaving away at the old stove that somehow fits in the small corner of our laundry room.

But home isn't limited to the however many square foot house you might inhabit but also the town, the city, the locale, that might stake claim to that bit of property.

For me it's a 1.3 square mile little plot of land called Northvale in Bergen Co., New Jersey.

There really isn't much in this town of 4400 people besides housing, a school and a shopping center. Prior to the construction of the shopping center my town only had 2 traffic lights...now we have three. I guess the shopping center increased the traffic by 50%.

The picture below shows a sketch of the shopping center in my town. What I find humorous are the people walking so casually into the shopping center. They're walking without a care in the world. In real life, someone would have ran them over with their car (it's a busy entrance...and we're dealing with Jersey drivers here).

Living on the main road of the tiny borough, I always looked up and down the street thinking that it was nothing more than a drive through town.
"Nothing to see here folks, just keep on driving by" I would always think people would say in their cars as they passed (if they had nothing more interesting to talk about of course).

This little suburbia seemed like every other Jersey town: Great place to raise your kids, but oh boy is it boring. But I can't ignore the fact that the place I call home has its own history and has its own story to tell.

The first mention of a town existing where Northvale is today was way back in 1866 when the Bergen Co. Clerk named printed out maps with the area designated as "Carrieville" named after his wife. At this point, this area used to be a rest stop for those making their way to New York.
Can you imagine, during the 1800s it was a 2 day trip on stagecoach and ferry from Northvale to New York? Today, if I speed, I can make it to the Bronx in 25 minutes, and Manhattan in 40. I'm guessing a day trip back then was visiting the next town over to shop for fine linens and silk (or whatever dainty things they purchased back then).

On my way to school everyday I would pass the Northvale Auto Shop thinking nothing of it even as English Ivy crawled up the side of the pewter gray stoned building. I knew it to be a place of business...an old and decrepit building nestled between typical early 20th Century houses. But I didn't think anything else of it. It was there. It stood. It existed.
But then I found this old photo.
It was apparently the Waist Factory at one time or another. "Waist"? I wondered initially...did they mean "Waste" or was it a factory for the manufacturing of Waist Products. Searching the term on Google, I only happened to stumble upon the story about the Triangle Waist Company fire back in the day, which was a manufacturer of woman's blouses and linens. So I guess that's what they made...blouses.

But what I really noticed was the road in front of the factory. A dirt road exudes rusticity and romance. Also, an era when people pioneered this country and ingrained their dreams into each home they built. The road in the photo has so much to say, that I'm surprised that today it is like every other road...paved with a double yellow line.

Below is another view of the street where I live.


This photo is a view from the main intersection in my town (Livingston Street and Paris Avenue). The house on the left is now a PNC bank, the house on the right is a dentist's office and the right foreground corner is our lovely little Irish Pub, the Fox Hunt Inn.

So how has this small town shaped me? My town continues to be as small as it was back then just with paved streets and a few more traffic lights. Plenty of the houses still look the same as the ones in the photo and it is still quite nothing more than a residential place. It was a charming place to grow up...but it couldn't satisfy my desire to see more.

The idea of Suburbia has masked the histories of so many places where we live today. "It's just another suburb" people would say and quickly overlook the potential the place has of teaching us.

Look into your own town's histories. You might find something very interesting.
I leave you with this final photo:


My town had a beautiful ornate archway built with the names of those on the honor roll etched into it. I want an HONOR ROLL ARCHWAY! My name would be all over that thing...(except that one marking period freshman year... :-\)

Until next time:
~ Safe Travels but Travel Daringly

Von