The Hands of a Father

I have gotten a guest blogger talk about Father's Day. Thank you to my dear friend and customer, Dennis, for telling us what it's like to be a father, a son, and a grandson. Take the time to do something special for the Dads on June 16th. Oh, and get out the tissues readers!

 

A couple of Christmases ago, I received a glass plate with my son's handprint, as well as my own. I'm a sentimental guy so I was very touched by the gift and got a little choked up when I opened it. It sits on my dresser and I hope my son will one day want it as a remembrance of him and me and the father I was to him. I hope his memories will all be colored with love.

"I need to talk to you about something that happened at school," my ex-wife said regarding my 5 year old son and then went on to say that my sweet little bundle of kindergarten joy had been sent to the office for hitting a boy in his class. Let that sink in for a minute, I’ll wait. My son got sent to the principal's office as a kindergartener! It's not that big a shock that my kid ended up in the office – apple doesn't fall far from the tree and all that, but I waited until middle school before I saw anyone's office at school. “He's had a hard time keeping his hands to himself lately and he's talking a lot about tough guys.” She wants to know if I’ve said anything to him about tough guys and can I talk to him about his behavior? Now, I'm busted and they're going to want to send ME to the office because I have accidentally glorified being tough by encouraging him to take up for himself. It’s not like I told him to beat everyone (or anyone) up, I just told him it was okay to take up for himself if someone hit him first. I'd also recently told him a little bit about his great grandfather, after he asked about him and the army uniform he’s wearing in a framed picture I have. I explained that he was in WWII and that he was the toughest guy I ever knew besides my own father. But now I have to help my son understand that being a tough guy is a more complicated than I'd led him to believe. We spent the next weekend together and he and I headed out Saturday evening to get some ice cream and have our first big "father/son talk."

My grandfather, probably around 1944
 

Tough guys. The mental picture I've always had of tough guys is that picture my son asked about. It is a picture of my granddad in his dress uniform, circa WWII. He always took pride in his military service. He was the undisputed patriarch of the family, as well as the undisputed grouch; kind of gruff and without a lot of polish. He and I were close and we spent a lot of time together during my youth. We used to rough house and play box and I don't remember anyone who had hands stronger or harder than my granddad did. It was like being hit with a rock. Men from that generation weren't the kind of guys who shared their feelings or were overtly affectionate. Most of them had gone off to war as kids, did their duty, came home and made a life for themselves, and rarely talked about the things they'd done or seen. For me, they were heroes and my grandfather was the bravest man I knew. He was a good man who worked hard his whole life and loved his family more than anything. A story my dad told me a few years back really illustrates this. After he was back in the states and shortly before my granddad was about to be discharged from the army in 1946, he requested leave to go home for my dad’s birth. Because he was so close to release, his commanding officer declined the request and told him to wait until his official discharge. Jack Russell Jr., who was as much a by the book guy as anyone I've ever known, went AWOL so he could be there for his son’s birth. When later asked why he wasn't scared of the consequences he said, "Every German in Germany had already tried to kill me. What the hell was the army going to do to me?"

My dad, probably around 1951

My dad was raised by that dogged and determined soldier. Those weren't the days of building up a child's confidence through encouragement and positive feedback. They were days of a clear right vs. wrong and subsequent woodshed trips when the latter was chosen. I don’t mean that he was raised without love, quite the opposite. There was an abundance of it. My grandmother was always the peaceful voice of faith, reason, and love and wouldn’t have raised her family without it. But fathers played a bit of a different role back then. He may have been stingy with the hugs at times, but my grandfather loved his children and certainly instilled toughness and a never give up attitude in my father. My dad was raised to fight back and never give up, to work hard, and always try to do the right thing. He ingrained those traits in me in a slightly more gentle way that replaced razor strap spankings with spankings from the wide belt styles of the 70's. I also got a lot more verbal "I love you's" than he got as a kid.

My dad lost his right hand in a terrible accident when he was 17 years old and a few years before I was born. I've never known him any other way than the way he is now, but I honestly never thought much about his hand being gone. My dad can and did do anything men with two hands did. He could throw a ball, hit one with a bat, catch one with a glove, put brakes on a car, build things, fix things, and anything else you asked him to do. He could do more things with one hand than I could have with three. It took me a long time to realize how much he had to overcome and how difficult it must have been for him after the accident. An average 17 year old is a bundle of insecurities already. How does one cope with losing a hand at that age and maintain any kind of confidence? My dad didn't have the option of giving up. I suppose he technically had it, but he wasn't raised to even consider that option. If it affected his confidence or psyche, I never saw it. He accepted what happened and did what he had to do to live his life normally, without regards to his injury, and he never let it defeat him.

4 years ago, some personal issues changed my whole life and I was a mess for about 6 months. My dad tried to be there for me, to support me, to help me get through it, and to remind me to not give up and to fight back. I couldn’t find my strength, at first, and I made it hard for anyone to love me, but he stayed in my corner even though he eventually had to love me from a distance. However, he never once refused to be there when I needed help. After my troubles passed, I realized that he'd taught me the most important lesson about parenthood he could – that a parent always loves their child unconditionally.

Me, around 1971
 

Growing up, a trip to the principal's office meant a spanking at home too, but spanking isn't a parenting tool I use much. Outside of a few "don't stick your finger in that light socket again" taps on a diaper when he was a toddler, I really haven’t spanked my son. It's the nuclear parenting option and I am not sure what situation would make me use it. Lacking that, I spent a few days thinking hard about what I should say to my son about his school troubles. I wanted to correct him without instilling fear in him and to convey the seriousness of his actions while fostering confidence that I love him, no matter what happens. I want him to know that he can always talk to me. Our job as parents is not only to feed, clothe, and house our offspring, but to also teach them to be decent human beings and how to survive a world that seems more dangerous than ever. I needed words that would make sense to a 5 year old brain. We pulled into a hamburger place and sat down with a sundae that he dug into.

I put my hand on his cheek, asked him to look at me, and said gently, "Son, you can't hit anyone at school. I know I told you to defend yourself, but right now the rule is no hitting at school, regardless of who hit who first.” I apologized for giving him the wrong impression about standing up for himself and told him that moms and dads make mistakes sometimes. Although I used simpler words, I explained to him what I've learned about being tough. Tough guys aren't the guys who win with their fists; they're the guys who get up every day and work hard to provide for their families. They’re the men who may not be physically with their children every day, but are present in their lives nonetheless. They’re the men who love and raise children that aren’t their biological offspring. The hardness or the strength of your hands doesn’t make you tough, but the resolve and the strength in your heart that gets you through life’s rough patches does. Toughness is surviving war and then coming home to live a successful and fulfilling life, despite the horrors you’ve witnessed. It is learning do everything with your left hand at 17 when you’ve always been right handed. It is loving your child unconditionally, even when they make it difficult for anyone to love them. It's getting back up when life keeps knocking you down. It's never giving up, no matter what. I learned that from my dad, he learned it from his, and I hope my son learns it from me. I hope he always sees kindness in my hands and strength and unconditional love in my heart.

 

My son who is my greatest blessing. 2013.

 

Happy Father’s Day to all those, male and female, who are dads to the children they love. Happy Father’s Day, especially, to my dad, Mike Russell, with whom I share so much, especially a love of music and lyrics, and who taught me to always trust my cape. I love you, Dad.

Teacher! Teacher!

Yes, I was the student who always had my hand raised, and always had a question for the teacher. And yes, I loved being "Teacher's Pet". Who didn't?
My most favorite teachers were the ones who you could tell really wanted us to learn, to grasp the meaning of the subject. They got us excited about what we were learning. Even some were tough, and hard on us. (I went to Catholic school, and had nuns. You get the drift.)
Three grade school teachers really stand out the most.

Mrs. Rogers was our 3rd grade teacher, and she was just such a nice person. I don't remember her ever haven't an angry word, or a raised voice. But we probably deserved it. She taught all subjects, but I remember reading the most. She really made us comfortable with reading to the whole class, and being called on. I was lucky enough to help Mrs. Rogers later on, when I got older, with helping to grade papers, and be her assistant. That would have been my first "job."

Mrs. Ross was our fifth grade teacher but also taught Science to the older kids. She made me fall in love with Science. She had such a passion for the subject, and made it so interesting. She was one of those teachers who had a quirky trick for everything. I remember when we were talking about hiccups, and one of my classmates had them. She swiftly grabbed a spoon, shoved it down the kid's throat, and hiccups were gone! You couldn't get away with that these days! Sadly, Mrs. Ross passed away a couple of years ago. This world lost a great lady, and teacher.

Mrs. Jacobs was our 7th grade teacher and the upper grades English Grammar teacher. Most teachers couldn't have made English fun, and exciting. She did. We actually played a game called "Diagram Baseball. We would beg her everyday to play. What a great way to learn grammar. I can still diagram the heck out of a sentence!
All of us had special teachers in our lives. These were people we spent almost more time with than anyone else. They practically raised us!
Celebrate teachers! They are under appreciated, and certainly underpaid. We would be honored to help you make that awesome hand made gift for your child's favorite teachers.

Mamma Mia

Moms make the world go 'round. I think we all know this. Dads are great, but if it weren't for Moms, nothing would get done. They are organized, persistent, nurturing, and never lose their energy and focus. They make sure we are raised polite kids, who are prepared to take on the world. They keep their cool, even when we drive them crazy.

 

My Mom in 1956

My mom raised six of us. I don't know how she did it. And how she didn't drink alot. Somehow, we didn't break any bones, or kill each other.
Even though this was in the 70's, my mom had a $40 a week budget to use for groceries. For 8 people!!! Somehow, she made it stretch! Granted we ate a lot of Hamburger Helper.
My mom taught me to be tough, and take on life without being afraid. She pushed me to be better. She made me be a strong woman like her. She taught me to not give up. She always said to speak up, and speak my mind. I listened, mom!
Now, don't get me wrong, she also embarrassed the heck out of me too. Two times in particular stand out in my mind the most. Whenever we would go to a store, and I would wander off on my own, if she was ready to go, she would have me paged over the loud speaker!! Oh, how humiliating when friends were around.
Or the times when she would see a guy around my age, and introduce me to him by saying, "This is my unmarried daughter." Sigh. And she always wondered why I didn't bring guys over to meet her.

                                          My mom at 19 on her honeymoon. 1957


My mom was also my biggest supporter of anything I wanted to do. She urged me to move to Washington D.C. my sophmore summer in college to be a congressional intern. When I wanted to marry the man of my dreams, and move to California, she told me to make sure there would be a guest room for her to visit. In 2003 when I wanted to open a business, she is the one person who said, "I know you can do it." My mom taught me to love crafts of every kind. She was the first to introduce me to ceramics. I think she would be amazed at what has happened with the studio in the last 10 years. Moms deserve our thanks and respect for all they do.

 

Mom at 17. 1955

 

 

 

Mother's Day is just two weeks away. They only get one day a year to feel really special. This is our chance to tell, and show our Moms just how much they do for us, and how much they mean to us. Whether you buy Mom a nice gift, or a fancy dinner, I'll bet the most meaningful to many moms would be quality time spent with their families.

Happy Mother's Day!

I love you, Mom!

Why Oh Why?

A lot people ask us why it takes a week to fire their pottery. That's such a great question! And because we get it so frequently, we've posted a pictorial answer on our website. I thought I'd share it here as well.
The first reason is that we have several days of customers pieces ahead of you.
So, once you pick out, and paint your piece, you leave it with us for a week.

It has to dry for at least 24 hours before we can glaze it.

 

Each piece is marked by day so we can keep track of who did what when.

 

The viscoity of the glaze has to be measured each day, and it has to be perfect! More errors could come from the glaze than the kiln.

 

 We have to time the viscocity just so. Each piece is hand dipped one by one. At Christmas, ornaments are fun!

 The glaze is a strange bluish, green color. But, not to worry, your paint colors will shine through!

Once the glaze dries, 24 hours later, we have to touch up pieces for any missed spots.

 

Next, each pottery piece is place on its own stilt. (Bed of nails) This prevents it from sticking to the kiln shelves.

 

 The piece is then placed into the kiln on the stilt.

 24 hours later, when the kiln cools, you have your finished piece!

 We remove the stilt which can leave sharp edges from the glaze.

 We sand off those sharp edges smooth.

 

Then, your piece is ready for pickup!

 

 

 

 

When the moon hits your eye...

I had been debating for years about whether or not I should add another "fired art" to my studio business. I went back and forth about fused glass, but I was scared to do it, and unsure how to go about it. It just looked so daunting, and I had the pottery thing down pat. And then my honey, and I visited Murano in Italy in 2009.

And my second love was revealed. Fused and slumped glass like the famous Italians do it.
First of all, they have a much bigger kiln then me.

And they're doing glass blowing as well. Can you imagine trying to offer that in the studio? Uh, no thank you! But, fused glass is the next best thing! Imagine a customer of ours can create their own glass plate, bowl, platter, candy dish, cross, candle holder, and much more. It still boggles my mind, that they can create that in our studio!

 

 

 

So, I came back to the States, and set out to learn all I could about how to create fused glass pieces. I took a lot of classes, and researched alot. There were experiments, and failures along the way.
I started small. We did just tiles, and flat pieces in the beginning. And through trial, and error we learned to create all kinds of wonderful masterpieces, and works of art.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We find that many customers are still intimidated by glass fusing. We explain that it's actually easier than painting on pottery. Once, they do it, they are hooked. We'd love to invite you in to try it. Even just to make your own glass letter, or a coaster. We'll walk you through it ever step of the way, and you'll be hooked like I am.

Il mio amore!

Growing up, we didn't have a lot of money. But, we still had a lot of fun! We had a mother who loved arts and crafts. She taught us to do it all. Macrame, decoupage, cross stitch, needlepoint, and of course ceramics. A trip to Michael's with Mom was a really big deal for us. I would say that doing the ceramics was my most favorite. That would make perfect sense, huh?

Mom and I would go to the ceramics shack, clean the greenware, paint it, and anxiously wait for the piece to be fired. We were always amazed when our piece came back shiny and colorful. Thus began my love affair with pottery.

Many years ago, before I owned my own studio, I decided I wanted to start collecting pottery from all over the world. There are ceramics artisans in every country. Anytime someone went on a trip, I would beg them to bring me back a pottery treasure. My favorite pieces are a bowl from Israel, a plate from the Bahamas, several pieces from Spain, and a plate from Italy. I have even gotten some nice ceramic pieces from garage sales. You never know what you can find! I would bet I now have a whole set of dishes.

My husband and I lived in Maryland about 17 years ago. While we lived there, I took one of those adults learning classes in throwing clay on the wheel. I was so bad at it. No, really, I was. But, I loved it!! So much that I took the same class twice. I never got good at it, though. It didn't matter, I still had my love of pottery. During this time I was also introduced to my first ever paint-your-own-pottery studio. What? Really?? Dream come true! This became the reward my staff wanted when we had a good sales quarter in my corporate job. I dreamed someday of owning a place just like that.

Once I opened my own paint-your-own-pottery studio, I was constantly trying to copy those styles of Spanish, and Italian pottery I had collected years before. They never quite looked the same. Until now. One of my suppliers has found a way for regular people, like me, to create that Italian/Spanish design on pottery. And it is so easy. This Saturday, at Glazed Over, we are starting our new Italian Pottery Painting Club. We will show you the very easy, and fun, way to create pottery just like the Italian and Spanish artisans did on my collectibles.
Just call to sign up. 281-497-7272

The artist within...

One thing that many people don't know about me is that I am not an artist. Okay, there, I admitted it.  I have never studied art, I didn't sketch as a kid, but I always wanted to be an artist. I have two brothers who are amazing artists, and I always wanted to be as good as them. But, I love art, and I love business, which is why I opened a paint your own pottery studio. So, if I can open a pottery and glass business, as a non artist, you can bet I can teach you how to do art!
Most of the people who come to my studio, tell me that they are not artistic, and couldn't possibly do the work we do. Yes, you can. Most of what we've done, we've traced, or copied. (Only about 1% of the people who set foot into Glazed Over are true artists). But, by gosh, we will show you how to do work like an artist!

This fleur de lis was etched using a template. This will be a class in April!


When our customers tell us that they are not creative, or artistic, we steer them towards glass. You do not need one creative bone in your body to do glass. It is the art of cutting, and breaking broken glass to form a shape or design of your choice! And you can even copy and trace designs. Then we melt it into shapes such as bowls, plates, platters, vases, crosses, candy dishes, necklace pendants, and more!

If you like to keep it easy, (1"x1" squares) it can still be a stunning outcome.

This was also done using a template. Easy breezy.


Come in, and be the artist you always wanted to be. We'd love for you to break some glass with us. It is so easy, and fun. We even allow kids 5 and older with a parent supervising.  (P.S. Men love glass because there's tools, safety glasses, and a little danger involved.) It makes a great date night, so don't forget your favorite bottle of wine!