Northern Valley Press
Featured Columnist
The gem caught my eye.
But what stayed with me lived deeper.
No assignments. No outlines. Just full trust to find the story–and tell it well.
For Hidden Gems, I had complete creative freedom to explore the people, places, and moments that shape life across the Northern Valley. I chose every subject, did every interview, wrote every word, and took every photo.
Each piece started with the gem–but somewhere in the writing, it always found its way back to me. Some stayed light. Others dug deeper. Each found its own way to connect.
One was reprinted in another paper–a reflection of the column's growing reach. Another sparked a complimentary letter to the editor, followed by a printed reply from the Editor-in-Chief. The column resonated–and readers kept coming back.
It started with researching the towns. But somewhere along the way, I rediscovered parts of myself, too.
Out of the many stories I wrote for the column, these five are a few that stayed with me long after the deadline passed.
Memory Lane:
Veolia Watershed Recreation Program
An open gate into public land–and an unexpected portal to the past.
This one started with a question from my daughter: What's your earliest memory? It brought me back to childhood Saturdays with my dad–early mornings, matching boots, and long walks that felt like adventures.
Years later, I stumbled on the Veolia Watershed and was surprised to learn it was open to the public–a serene expanse hiding in plain sight. What began as a simple article to share that discovery became something more: a reflection on my early-riser habits (Sorry, Dad!) and a story about connection–between father and daughter, memory and landscape, past and present.
The watershed wasn't just a setting. It felt like a gateway to my own first hidden gem.
Click the image to enlarge and read the full column.
Click the image to enlarge and read the full column.
Leprechauns, Four-Leaf Clovers, and Biddy O'Malley's
Irish myths, family roots, and a gastropub that helped me untangle both—over a pint and a pie.
With a name like McCann, I grew up surrounded by Irish symbols—shamrocks, Claddagh rings, and a vague sense of green-tinted identity. So this piece wasn’t just about a beloved gastropub in the next town—it was about what that place unlocked on St. Patrick’s Day. It pulled at the threads of what I’d inherited—and challenged me to decide what still fits.
Part Irish pub backstory, part cultural deep-dive, part personal unraveling, and part shepherd’s pie review (research, of course), this story took me from childhood confusion about St. Patrick to adult clarity over a Guinness. Along the way, I explored generational myths, the nuances of cultural inheritance, and how one local pub made my heritage feel real.
Turns out, finding your roots is easier with a fork in hand and something Irish on tap.
Valentine's Day, Conrad's Confectionery, and "Love-Love"
Valentine's baggage, the holiday's backstory, a candy shop–and a surprising moment of "Maybe!"
I've always had a love-hate relationship with Valentine's Day–fueled by a personal track record best summed up as "better luck next year." So when I started working on this piece about a local candy shop famous for its Valentine's sweets, I figured I should understand the holiday behind the hype.
A little digging turned up a Roman martyr, a beheaded bishop, a pagan dating festival, and–of course–the red-foil commercialism we know today.
Then I stepped into the shop. At first, I was just there to gather a few details–and, I'll admit, pick up some nonpareils. But somewhere between talking to the woman behind the counter and eyeing the heart-shaped boxes, I started to feel it.
She told me about the family that's run the shop since 1928, the hand-dipped chocolates, the 1940s machine still in use–because they believe in staying true to tradition.
I can't say I left the store a Valentine's Day convert.
But I can say the shift from love-hate to love-like had officially begun.
Click the image to enlarge and read the full column.
Click the image to enlarge and read the full column.
New Year's, Birthdays, and
The Gift of a Good, Rewarding Hike
Freezing temps, birthday dread, and the looming threat of another failed New Year's resolution–interrupted by a hike and a castle in the woods.
Every January, the questions return like clockwork: How will I get through this weather? Will I actually stick to my resolution of exercising this year? And seriously, how is it possible I'm about to turn another year older?
Realizing I like nature a whole lot more than Nautilus, I decided to tackle at least one of them–with a hike.
The Women's Federation Monument trail winds through Palisades Interstate Park and leads to a cliffside "castle" built to honor the women who saved the land–teachers, suffragists, and strategists who took on the quarry companies. And won.
I thought I was going for exercise.
Instead, I found a story I hadn't expected, sweeping views of the Hudson, and a reminder that movement counts–even in thermal socks.
The other two concerns?
I'll worry about them later.
Golden Oldies Like "Moon River"
We Played Them All
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Great stories don't write themselves. Let's talk.
Tara McCann