The other day my wife and I joined a group of friends at a restaurant that served lobster bakes. It came with a lobster, potato, half an ear of corn, and a lot of butter. Everyone at our table loved the meal. I, on the other hand, went back into a memory of my past I hadn’t thought about for too long.
My uncle used to own a fish store in College Point, New York. I loved going to his store. The air was filled with the sharp smell of fresh fish that had just been delivered from the docks of New York City.
I remember the black and white tiled floors and the counter being sparkling clean and my uncle, wearing a white apron, talking to his customers while he arranged the catch of the day in a glass display case filled with crushed ice.
One day my father said they needed my help with the clambake. Wow! I could tag along with the men because they needed my help. I can’t tell you how important that made me feel. At first I didn’t know what to make of it because what had become a tradition in my short life was about to change. Continue Reading →