A New Start in a Small Town

After 25 years in North Bergen, New Jersey, I was transplanted to Bloomingdale against my wishes. I should clarify, since I have noticed that when I mention “North Bergen” up in these parts, people think I am referring to Northern Bergen County, North Bergen is actually in Hudson County. 

To put things into perspective, North Bergen is 5.6 square miles and as of the 2010 Census, had a population of over 60,000 in comparison to Bloomingdale’s 9 square miles and less than 10,000 in population. The home I lived in for 25 years was a mere 3 miles from the Lincoln Tunnel entrance to New York City.

You might know North Bergen for its breathtaking views of New York City or for you TV and Movie buffs, from Law & Order: SVU or Cinderella Man.  The house I left in North Bergen was a generic railroad house with high ceilings and you would have to walk through a bedroom to get to the bathroom or kitchen. It was built with a row of houses right on Routes 1&9. It was a great house when we were growing up.

You were a stones’ throw away from everything, the grocery store, school, banks and parks. Which was a good thing, because it’d serve you better to walk places and not drive because of the congestion. It’s a far cry from the life I was about to start here in Bloomingdale.I remember driving into Bloomingdale and wondering how I was going to adjust to this life. I starting thinking about my car lease and the mileage I would put on it driving back & forth to civilization and then, a traffic light! I couldn’t believe my eyes, there was a traffic light!

Then a gas station, the bank that I used, a deli, nail salons (3 within walking distance!) it was a sight for sore eyes! What a relief when I found out that the house was literally right off Main Street! Now to some, that would be a disturbance but NOT to me.Very early on in my move, I would learn that I was living in one of Bloomingdale’s more “famous” houses. I found that no matter whom I met, once I told them what street I lived on, they would immediately ask if it was the “big Victorian house with the white picket fence,” and it was.

It seemed the house had a life of its own here in town. I can understand, it was beautiful house that boasted seven bedrooms, three bathrooms, a wrap around lemonade porch, in-ground pool and a dumb waiter. It was certainly a work of art. When we moved in, the house was painted white with pink and blue shutters, a life-size dollhouse. Thankfully the owners throughout the years had wanted to preserve the character of the home as best as possible, so there are plenty of original closets, floors and woodwork.It has since changed color twice and while my parents still reside there, I have moved just down the road.

I can’t wait to share some of the interesting things I have found in the house. Not to mention the scary and bizarre things too!