—  A Southwick Time Machine Historical Curiosity     In 1971, Massachusetts lawmakers approved the creation of a state lottery, an ambitious effort designed to provide local aid to all 351 cities and towns across the Commonwealth. The following spring, that idea became reality with the promise that ordinary people might suddenly find themselves extraordinarily lucky. On March 22, 1972, the first ticket for  “ The Game ”  was sold. Just weeks later, on April 6, the first drawing took place at Boston’s Faneuil Hall, where seven winners each claimed $50,000.  On October 3, 1972, the Massachusetts Lottery held its seventh “Million Dollar Game.” The drawing took place at the Sheraton Boston Hotel, where more than a hundred finalists from every New England state except Vermont gathered, each hoping their name would be called for the top prize: $1 million, paid in annual installments of $50,000 over twenty years. Alongside the million-dollar prize were additional ...

      — A Southwick Time Machine Original   Eleanor “Ellen” R. Rowley died at her home on Smith Hill in Colebrook, Connecticut, on May 6, 1920. She was 97 years old, having passed just 12 days after her 97th birthday. At the time of her death, she was the oldest resident of the town. Her health had declined following a fall in her home about seven weeks earlier, from which she never fully recovered. She was the last surviving member of a family of at least 16 children. Ellen had at least nine children of her own; six survived her. Among them was her son, Waldo, who was born on Smith Hill but later relocated to neighboring Tolland, Massachusetts, where he spent most of his life, aside from a few years in Naugatuck.    The Rowleys (Waldo top left; Eleanor seated) Waldo was known locally for his farming. In 1899, he took first prize at the New Boston Agricultural Fair in Sandisfield, Massachusetts, for exhibiting a yearling colt described as “very fine.” Trage...

    — A Southwick Time Machine Original   Farmers in Southwick, Massachusetts, and the surrounding hill towns didn’t speak of “agricultural science” in the modern sense, but their records tell a story of extremes: outsized harvests, enormous livestock, and seasons that refused to follow the rules. (Image inspired by the story) About 1756, a farmer in Granville, Massachusetts, believed to be Luke Hitchcock, rode horseback all the way to New York and returned with just four potatoes, then still a novelty. Two froze on the journey home. From what remained, he planted fourteen small hills, and by season's end,  harvested four full bushels. From almost nothing came abundance. Decades later, the pattern continued. In 1822, a single apple grown in Granville weighed one pound, seven ounces. That same year, a cabbage grown in Granville measured more than three feet, five inches in circumference after all of the loose leaves were trimmed away. Not long after, in 1827, workers ...

  — A Southwick Time Machine Original   On April 1, 1836, in Suffield, Connecticut, Stephen Rose Jr., aged 28, was attempting to cross a drain of water concealed beneath snow and ice. In an effort to test the ice before stepping forward, he held a loaded rifle with both hands near the muzzle, extending the breech away from his body. In doing so, however, the muzzle was directed toward his own head. At that moment, the weapon discharged, firing into his cheek near the mouth. The projectile lodged within his head, causing immediate death.   A recreation of a scene similar to the one described in the story   In early 19th-century New England, it was common practice for men to carry firearms during routine travel, whether for hunting, protection, or general utility, making their presence in even ordinary moments a familiar, if sometimes perilous, reality. Rose died instantly—his life ended not by violence of intent, but by a single misjudgment on a cold and uncertain cro...

— A Southwick Time Machine Original | True Crime     In the spring of 1834, a long-simmering dispute over land in the border town of Suffield, Connecticut, reached its breaking point—with fatal consequences. For years, John Winchell, Jr.—an aging, gray-headed man with darkish eyes—had been locked in a bitter conflict with his son, Uriel Winchell—his youngest child—over a tract of land. Years earlier, John had conveyed the property to his father, who in turn transferred it to Uriel, who was still a minor at the time. When Uriel came of age, John sought to reclaim the land, arguing that the original transfer had been made without proper consideration. Uriel refused. What followed was not a single quarrel, but a long deterioration. Both men claimed the land. Both used it. Both cut wood upon it. Over time, their disagreement hardened into something far more dangerous. Testimony would later reveal threats, physical altercations, and a father who frequently carried weapons—sometime...