This blog goes out to my family business, the Clay City Pottery, as it celebrates its 125th anniversary this weekend. This is in fact the first "Clay City Pottery Festival" I have missed in 25 years.
I was born the year the company celebrated its centennial, marking the fifth generation of the family business on my mother's side. The owner, my maternal grandmother, offered my 18 year old father a job when she found out that my mother was pregnant. Although my parents divorced when I was only a year old, my father’s continued employment at the Clay City Pottery marks the beginning of the extraordinary but fortunate string of events that constitute the story of my life.
My heart and soul is in my family’s business. It’s who I am and what I know. Although I never had a family at home and I moved back and forth between homes quite often, we were a family from eight to four, Monday through Friday. I worked my first job here, and this is where I learned such skills as customer service and managerial tasks. I can also attribute my creativity and love for art to the countless hours I spent as a child building sculptures and figurines out of clay. Growing up business was good and we children benefited greatly from this. We traveled the country on a regular basis and spent winters in Florida at my grandmother’s condominium. We were provided with anything our hearts desired including clothes, toys, four-wheelers, pools, golf carts, etc. My parents divorce was never taken to custody court; therefore I spent my time wherever I pleased whenever I pleased. This had both its advantages and disadvantages. For instance, both of my parents have been married three times each over the course of my lifetime. This stigmatized taboo in society has resulted, for me, in a multitude of gifts and an endless list of destinations for the holidays. I also never received any strict discipline, as this would be hard to manage with my constant moving about, most notably in times when I sought to avoid such confrontations.
In May of 2004, my life began to change dramatically. The economy was struggling and with it our family business. The company's ability to withstand over a hundred years of operation, including the Great Depression, was now facing its darkest hour. My grandmother was unable to pay the bills and was forced to cut over half of the employees. The vacations stopped. The weekend shopping sprees, extravagant Christmas celebrations, and trips to fancy restaurants stopped. I no longer had the luxury of working for my family and was forced to get a "real" job. Everyone became highly stressed and irritable and several problems ensued. When an entire family depends on the same source of income, the effects can be detrimental. My dad eventually lost his job and at age forty two was forced to start over. My step-father was pronounced disabled at only age thirty-seven and therefore prohibited to work. My grandparents continued to struggle day to day to just make ends meet and keep what little business we had left up and running. With the loss of business, I lost a part of myself. The strong bond I once enjoyed so much was broken. I was forced to fend for myself, get a job, and pay my own way through school. The transition from having it all to wanting it all was not an easy one. My dad likes to say that I have a “champagne taste on a beer budget."
Today the family business is owned and operated by my younger brother. This is his first festival and I wish him the best of luck. Although I chose a different career path and different lifestyle, I will always trace my roots back to a time when I was a potter's daughter.
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