Perhaps it was my family’s connection to the Quakers that inspired them to gather firewood, rocks, and seaweed to create a clambake back in August 1959 on Barn Island in Stonington. In those days it was possible to find a spot on the beach and dig a hole deep enough for the all-day cooking of the clams, lobsters, onions, corn, potatoes and chicken among hot rocks and seaweed. No tripe, eel or mackerel were included because my mother didn’t like them. A remote spot for this ceremonious cooking was necessary to reduce the possibility of neighbors being disturbed by the noise generated by me and my brothers, along with five or six of our friends.
I remember my grandmother barking orders about pit-digging from her command post on a large, flat rock in view of the beach and my father leaning into his shovel, creating a small mountain of sand as the pit widened and deepened. My brothers, along with friends Skip and Charlie, tended the wood fire in which smooth, round rocks the…
