No. 262: Full Circle

No. 262: FULL CIRCLE By Tom Wills, September 2014

Some of the crayons in this metal box are two decades old. Some were used and mangled by my own daughters, long before my grandson got his hands -- and teeth -- on them.
He's our first family lefty.

It has become my practice to draw him every six months or so, as he grows and changes. His newest thing is eye-hand coordination.
In this drawing, he is working to keep the lines on a big piece of paper (not the tile floor), and to keep the Crayolas out of his nose, ears and mouth. It's probably good thing that he wears layers of pants.

In a drawing that preceded the new one by 23 years, his mother is using quite possibly one of the same sticks to create art on a picnic table.  That picnic table, that house and whatever drawing she was doing are all long gone.
Of them all I wish I had kept the drawing.
Some of those crayons, though, made the move.
They have come full circle.

23 years ago

23 months

I love the smell of crayons, and no, this is not weird. It's a definable and memorable sensation, breathing in a new box of wax. The cool thing is that the old ones smell just like the new ones. The perfume never fades.
When you have kids, you acquire a lot of crayons.  Most here are Crayolas, the only crayon that matters, but some are the cheap-o Bob Evans "keep the kids busy and quiet" variety, Rose Art or some Chinese recipe.
All live harmoniously together in the metal box.

These particular crayons are in all kinds of conditions. The reds, greens, browns, yellows and blacks are ground down, broken, chipped or split from hard use and abuse. And then there are colors such as asparagus, cadet blue, cotton candy, melon, salmon and wisteria that don't get much light out of the box. Sad for them, but they look great for all of their years.

Unbroken crayons did fit better in their original container — you know, that big yellow and green Crayola box with the built-in sharpener, the angled display and 64 colors. All for an amazing $3.99, even now.
That box never lasted long at my house. Bent and broken crayons just don't fit properly, creating vacancies that eventually mangle the neat box edges.
So, the metal box became a common container for the little ones, the big ones, the disabled ones.
Grandpa for some reason cannot throw out the pieces.

I recently admonished Anthony for breaking the crayons.  He was sitting on the floor with the box, just picking out colors and breaking sticks to his heart's content.
"Don't break the crayons, silly!"
I put them back in the box and put them all away, then felt badly about it later.

Maybe in his little mind he wasn't breaking things. Perhaps he was creating more things by making multiple pieces. Maybe he figured this was a way to get more cool stuff to sort through, move around, stack up, toss -- and maybe even use for coloring.
Maybe he figures broken can still be good.
Broken and mangled crayons can still be bright and bold. They can still make their mark.
Even if it's just scribbles.
Even if we're not really writing about crayons here.

O-o-h child things are gonna get easier
O-o-h child things 'll get brighter
O-o-h child things are gonna get easier
O-o-h child things 'll get brighter

Someday we'll get it together and we'll get it undone
Someday when the world is much brighter
Someday we'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun
Someday when the world is much lighter

O-o-h child things are gonna get easier
O-o-h child things 'll get brighter
O-o-h child things are gonna get easier
O-o-h child things 'll get brighter
Right now right now 

"O-o-h Child" is a 1970 single recorded by Chicago soul family group the Five Stairsteps and released on the Buddah label. Previously, the Five Stairsteps had had peripheral success recording in Chicago with Curtis Mayfield: when Mayfield's workload precluded his continuing to work with the group they were reassigned to Stan Vincent, an in-house producer for Buddah Records, who had recently scored a Top Ten hit with the Lou Christie single "I'm Gonna Make You Mine." Vincent wrote this song for his son, Chuck.