Hello boys and girls, today I will tell you a story about a place called Island Park, Rhode Island, right near Portsmouth. I visited there yesterday, and it is a teeny strip of land that at some places is only a few hundred yards across. Back in Ye Olde Days in the beginning of the twentieth century, Island Park was an amusement park, and it had the biggest and best roller coaster in Rhode Island or something. Then in 1938 there was a great hurricane, known, suitably, as the Great Hurricane of 1938, and it leveled all of Island Park and much of the rest of New England. After that, the owner of the amusement park, who no longer had an amusement park because it was all smashed up, subdivided all his land and now there are lots of charming little New England houses in funny shapes with things that spin in the wind outside. He built his own house on the land, and now some other very nice people live there, and they collect all kinds of things, like vinyl records, cigar boxes, and little jars. We went for a walk on the beach, which is covered in rocks the size of ostrich eggs (I think), and found a dead skate and ate it. Just kidding.