We're in Clare, Michigan, right about the center of the state (not counting the vast, proto-tundra Upper Peninsula). My son, Andy, and his family have lived here about three years since leaving the mean streets of Chicago when their first child was born. His wife, Claire (note the spelling) grew up here. Her parents are still in town and in good health. If I remember correctly, the town got its name from someone who passed through from County Clare, Ireland. That's where my father's family came from.
Many small towns have their interesting quirks and Clare is certainly one. This giant chicken stands outside of a bar and grill - been here as long as I've been visiting. Looks like it has a new paint job. I don't know anything about its origins. I should go into the bar and ask.
Off to the side is an alley called the Clare Art Walk, which we will explore in more detail. The first thing you see might make you want to go down to Detroit in a hurry.
2 comments:
That last one is a very unfriendly sign. No cycling, how can you invent that?
Why did the giant chicken cross the road?
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