American Beauty

Just 13 miles off the Rhode Island coast lies a place that has managed to preserve its 19th-century charms, protect its verdant landscapes, keep two lighthouses ablaze, and be home to about 1,400 souls. Welcome to Block Island

- Tracey Minkin,Julien Capmeil

Odysseus knew what it was like to want to get back to an island. Sure, he was king of his Greek homeland, and gods and goddesses kept getting in his way, but I cannot help thinking about his drive to return to a magical place—especially an island—when I step off the Block Island Ferry.

Ferry views

I regard the waterfront I last saw 20 years ago. The decades collapse like a magician’s prop: There’s the gingerbread cupola, bright white clapboards, and black shutters of The National Hotel, its long porch’s parade of American flags snapping in the ocean breeze.

Glass Onion

Just as I left it. There’s Rebecca’s Seafood nearby, with its bright green takeout window awning and umbrellas shading faded picnic tables: It feels like I grabbed a post-ferry lobster roll there yesterday.

Blocks of Fudge

There’s the Empire, the little movie theater repurposed from a Victorian roller-skating rink.

Block Island Farmers Market

There’s Star Department Store, where I spent hours indulging my then-growing children with summer-vacation toy expeditions and blown-out flip-flop replacement missions. It’s still here.

The Oar

And now I’m here—finally, and so gratefully—back on Block Island.