I was sitting sometime in the early afternoon with the windows open, Gershwin playing on the stereo, a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese before me and a wonderful book open on the table. I clearly recall saying out loud, “I’m as happy as a clam.” I also remember quite quickly thinking, “What did I just say?” And then, “What does it mean to be as happy as a clam?” So then my perfectly wonderful day took me exploring and here is what I found.
An early version is 'as happy as a clam at high water'. Clams are free from the attentions of predators at high tide, so perhaps that's a reason to consider them happy then. The earliest known citation doesn't mention water though. That's in Harvardiana, 1834:
"That peculiar degree of satisfaction, usually denoted by the phrase 'as happy as a clam'."
John G. Saxe, the American writer best known for his poem The Blind Men and the Elephant, used the phrase in his Sonnet to a Clam, in the late 1840s:
Inglorious friend! most confident I am
Albeit men mock thee with their similes,
And prate of being "happy as a clam!"
What though thy shell protects thy fragile head
From the sharp bailiffs of the briny sea?
Thy valves are, sure, no safety-valves to thee,
While rakes are free to desecrate thy bed,
And bear thee off, - as foemen take their spoil,
Forced, like a Hessian, from thy native home,
To meet destruction in a foreign broil!
Though thou art tender, yet thy humble bard
Declares, O clam! thy case is shocking hard!
The phrase originated in the US and possibly before 1834. In 1848 the Southern Literary Messenger - Richmond, Virginia expressed the opinion that the phrase "is familiar to everyone". Copyright © Gary Martin, 1996 - 2008
Now aided with the rightful origin of the phrase, I felt equipped to reassess the situation. My plate empty of all lunch remnants, I still declared myself to be quite content. I poured a glass of water and then remembered to water my plants. Their deaths would not have made for the most wonderful of days. I took the water and my book out onto the porch. And as I suspected, the sun of Arizona did not disappoint.
A grilled cheese, the book, the uncomfortable chair, and the sun…that’s all it really takes for me. I suppose I’m destined to be a clam then.
Now aided with the rightful origin of the phrase, I felt equipped to reassess the situation. My plate empty of all lunch remnants, I still declared myself to be quite content. I poured a glass of water and then remembered to water my plants. Their deaths would not have made for the most wonderful of days. I took the water and my book out onto the porch. And as I suspected, the sun of Arizona did not disappoint.
A grilled cheese, the book, the uncomfortable chair, and the sun…that’s all it really takes for me. I suppose I’m destined to be a clam then.
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