Bringing Down the White Picket Fence

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When I see clam strips on a menu, my memory takes me back to this building.  I also like to sneak an order in when Michelle isn’t looking. Most people recognize this place as the Robinson Ale House, but for me, it’s the Howard Johnson.  Its orange exterior has since been painted to take on its more modernized existence.  I remember it as the place my father and I went to eat… Read More