I was busy, I was focused.
I was loading up the van for Annie’s Farmers Market booth. My to-do list was best expressed in chapters that day.
“Here Hun! Here’s the big bin of crayons, here’s a coloring book” (and she was no longer underfoot). I grabbed another crate of jars and stacked it in the van. The whole time, I was muttering to myself about how heavy jam and pickled products are. Plus I was thinking about the two day trips that we’d be going on over the weekend. It was one of those days where I simply didn’t have the time to be a Stay-At-Home Dad.
And then…
“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”
I closed my eyes, slowed my breathing and did everything I could to keep agitation out of my voice, “What is it Hun?”
She had her hands cupped, with reverence and trepidation, she was holding a single crayon. I took another deep breath and leaned down for a closer look
(Oh)
“It’s a Golden Crayon” (It’s a Goaden Cway-uhn) she said. Her voice was hushed and awe-filled.
I smiled, yep, this is a big deal. I need to stop for this.
This is an important moment in the life of a kid–the discovery of the gold colored Crayola. I remember my discovery of the golden crayon.
We need to start one semester before that moment.
My first day of first grade was coming up. Mom took me to the Ben Franklin Five & Dime for school supply shopping.
“Okay, okay…ah, here we are! Folders–says here you need five of them. Go ahead, pick out your five favorite colors!”
Not pink. We’re good.
“Pencils, good. Elmer’s Glue, good. What color ruler do you want? Okay! Toss it in the cart Hun, keep up. No, those robot-shaped erasers are gimmicks, they’re pencil toppers, they don’t really erase. We need to get these pink wedge-shaped ones. Okay fine. You may pick ONE pencil topper.
You want the Fox & the Hound Lunchbox? That was pretty quick and decisive. Time for a backpack.
Which backpack do you want? No not those ones, that’s a little out of our price range. Here are your choices. That one?” (It looked like a box of Crayola Crayons) “It’s so cute! No Sweetie! It’s cute in a good way! Seriously. It’s a wonderful backpack Brooks…yep. We can get it.”
Then we moved on to the crayon section, “It says here we need a 24 count box of crayons. Okay! We’re nearly done! We can have ice cream at Gromer’s after this if you want.”
I looked down at the 24 count box, then turned and stared at the 64 count box (the holy grail of crayon collections…at the time). I turned to Mom and protested.
“Well Brooks, it says here you need a 24 crayon box. I know, it has the built in sharpener, but do you really need the 64 box for First Grade? You know, you could get in trouble for bringing in all those crayons.”
Ooh! I don’t want to get into trouble, and certainly not on my first day! Now I look back and think about how I fell for that. What would have happened? Would I have been kicked out of first grade? My Mom could play me like a fiddle! I settled for the 24 count and we moved on.
The ice cream was delicious—Rainbow Sherbet

The first day of school had finally arrived. Mom walked me to school the first few days until I had the route down. Along the way, we noticed a girl and her Mom also walking to school, she was wearing a Crayola Backpack just like mine! I felt even better about my backpack.
When we arrived at school. I was able to get a better look at her and she became one of my first crushes, her name was Jenny. I had to impress her.
Sister Judine helped us organize our desks. I pulled out my 24 count crayon box and began putting it into the corner when I noticed my classmates doing the same thing: there was a 64 box, and there was another. That boy had a 48 count box. Oh! That kid over there has a 24 count box! But he smelled kind of weird. It was not looking good.
Jenny looked over at me, still beaming about us having matching backpacks. I nervously returned the smile as I slipped my pathetic little 24 box into my desk before anyone could notice.
The first half of the year was filled with misery and self-consciousness every time I pulled that box out.
A couple months later, Parents Night arrived. Mom and Dad went with me to get a tour of my classroom, check out my school work, and my artwork and everything else that I felt compelled to show them.
“Can we check your desk?”
“Sure!” I led them over, lifted the top up and they saw the chaotic mess that was my Monday through Friday life from 8am to 3pm. Mom noticed my crayons were all stubs and the box had been taped together a few times.
“Oh Brooks! Why didn’t you tell me your crayons were nearly used up? We’ll pick up a new set this weekend.”
My eyes widened. You can get new crayons throughout the year? For some reason, my seven year brain thought that I only had one set of crayons to use all school year.
This was big news. It was nearly December, I had been stressing out about how I could make these crayons last until spring. Furthermore, Christmas was coming up, and my red and green crayons did not look like they were up to the task of Holiday Art. As I took a deep breath at having that stressful issue resolved, my eyes widened again. This was an opportunity.
“Mom? Could I get a 64 crayon box?”
“Well, I don’t know. We can talk about it later.” Those were dreaded words. I needed to hammer this nail now. I looked over at Sister Judine, she was busy talking to other parents. I knew it was against the rules, but I proceeded to open other kid’s desks, the ones I knew had 64 boxes to prove my point.
“Well…it just seems a bit excessive to me.”
“Debbi.” My Dad poked her. “This is a pretty big deal, for him. It’s bigger for him than it is for us.”
(Thank You Dad!)
She smiled at him, “You’re right.” She turned back to me, “Okay, we’ll get you a 64 box this weekend, but I don’t want you opening it up and losing crayons before you even get them to school.”
I was elated, finally! Brooks is in the Cadillac Club. I’ll be strutting this thing on Monday. Jenny will be so impressed.
Monday came, and I proudly set out that 64 count box for art class and quickly faced an unexpected, but nice, problem…too many choices. There were all of those greens, and browns, and…silver? My eyebrows raised at that one. Next to that silver crayon was a (gasp) gold-colored crayon!
My mouth hung open. Everything suddenly made sense, all those shiny pictures hanging up along the chalkboard, were they all due to this crayon? And I am now in possession of it. I pulled it out of the box and stared at it. I, can, make, golden pictures now! Forget that stupid yellow crayon I’ve been using for gold! I’ve attained professional level coloring now!
I became King Midas, every picture I made had a bit of gold slipped in. Apples? Sure! Kites? Yes! Horse Hooves? Is that question even necessary? The Christmas art projects—I’m better than just red and green. Check out these bells! Yeah…that’s right. Gold (ugh, and silver) bells.
Yeah…there was that silver crayon too. I suppose I could use it to make that knight’s armor shiny…but what if he’s fighting…a golden knight? I know! Right?
That box of crayons is a treasured and fondly recalled artifact of my childhood, the world became filled with possibilities.
And I nearly forgot! The 64 box has a built-in crayon sharpener! By lunch on that first day I realized that those sharpeners were useless. Who cares? I have a Golden Crayon!

The crate of jars had been set aside. I was busy, but not too busy for this moment. I was kneeling, eye level with Reggie. I was trying not to crack up. Her wide eyes and her mouth hanging open made the task difficult.
“You did it Reggie! You found the golden crayon. What are you going to do with it?”
“Hide it in my seashell box.”
After I let out one of those suppressed chuckles, “Great! But what are you going to do before that?”
“Color.”
“Color what?”
“Everything!”
“That’s a great answer sweetie! Go make golden pictures!” I kissed her forehead and realized she still needed a bath. I’ll have to do that after the van is loaded. As I picked the crate of jars back up, I looked over at her, hunched over her little table, coloring furiously with the most coveted crayon.
I suppose the bath can wait until after she creates some art first.