My best childhood memories are a patchwork of my time spent in Otis Wood Lands, a small community exploding with my family’s history. Over forty years ago, my grandfather and his brother each bought small cabins in Otis, a tiny town in rural Massachusetts. From our summer family “jamborees” to the wintertime Otis Holiday Week, Otis has become synonymous with family. There’s togetherness from the second we wake up to when we close our eyes.
Stepping out of the car and into the crisp Berkshire air, a sense of relaxation washes over me, unlike anywhere else. Yet, every time I drive through the winding roads of Otis Wood Lands, I’m hit by a wave of nostalgia—not for my own childhood memories, but for a time before I was even born. There is something about the charmingly rustic community that transports me back in time. I explore the same hills and dirt roads that held the conversations and memories of prior generations. As much as I treasure every visit to Otis, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m simultaneously living the same Otis that a previous generation once knew.
Some things in Otis never change. Every Fourth of July, my family gathers with the rest of the Otis Wood Lands community for the annual barbeque and picnic. Proudly wearing our Hotchkiss name tags, without fail, a volunteer will spot us and exclaim, “Wow! You’re part of the dynasty!”—a nod to our family’s long-standing presence in the community. We inevitably spend summer weekends at Tanglewood, an outdoor music venue, just like our parents and grandparents. The highlight of the season is our annual picnic to watch James Taylor. While our picnic snacks may have upgraded since our parents’ concerts, James Taylor still comforts us with the same songs he’s always performed.
Without fail, when he reaches everyone’s favorite line in “Sweet Baby James”—“from Stockbridge to Boston”—we leap up and cheer as if it’s the first time we’ve ever heard the reference. In the winter, we return to the same ski trails at Butternut and Otis Ridge, following the path of those who came before us.
So much of Otis remains the same, but at the same time, a lot has changed. The Farmington River Diner, once a beloved spot to order Mickey Mouse pancakes served in uncomfortable booths, is now Paige’s Place. Of course, we love Paige’s too, but Farmington had a legacy. Terranovas Market, the nearby general store, is now a shell of what it once was, its broken down frame a blemish on the town center.
More than the physical changes, I long for the simpler times in Otis, before renovations and screens. Mornings were spent reading magazines, books, and the local newspaper, instead of silently sitting in each other’s company and scrolling TikTok.
Longing for this Otis I never got to experience led to the creation of “Otis Unplugged.” The rules are simple: at any moment, anyone can shout “Otis Unplugged!” and within seconds, everyone must drop their phones, throw up their hands, and join the conversation. It’s different when it comes from our parents telling us to get off our phones— we would never give in to their nagging. But with the kids’ creation of “Otis Unplugged!,” it feels like a game. For the few hours our screen-free game lasts, we can transport ourselves back to the Otis I long for, the one we never got to see.
Change is inevitable, and we must learn to cope with it. At the same time, we can hold on to—and even revisit—the parts of the past that we cherish most. In Otis, we are able to balance past and present, holding on to its classic charm and nostalgia while creating new memories together. I’ve realized that embracing change does not have to mean abandoning the past. Now, I’ve learned to welcome the future and hold on to the best parts of the past as well.
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