One fine evening some weekends ago, Mother Bear, her Chris and mine ventured over the Long Island Sound to a little treasure known as Block Island. I’ve only been there once before and the entire perimeter can be covered in approximately fourty-five minutes on a moped.

My mother the jetsetter.

As we strolled about in the late afternoon, fisherman were docked for the day cleaning up the daily catch. It looked so fresh, so good; all I wanted to do was eat it. We dined at a local hotel, The National, while unwinding on the porch with a couple of tasty beverages. There’s nothing like having a hobbyist pilot in the family who thinks flying somewhere for dinner is the ish.