Ghosts, Memories and Lobster Rolls: A Visit to Block Island and the Past.

By Billy Finn
We drove about three hours north from New York City, fighting traffic the whole way. It was a humid, cloud-choked morning in mid-July and we sat with slipping patience as endless lines of cars stuttered their way up 95 like hesitant toddlers learning how to walk.
My wife and I were on our way to Block Island, Rhode Island: a place I’d been many times and one that was quickly becoming a favorite of Emily’s, an Indiana girl used to lakes and rivers still marveling at the very idea of an island surrounded by water in every direction.
Newly married and fried from months of planning a...