Crayola’s box of 64 crayons reflects America for good and bad: Sheldon Firem

Crayola celebrated the 64th birthday of the iconic 64-count box of crayons in 2022.

CHARDON, Ohio -- Life is like a box of Crayola crayons not a “box of chocolates.”

Apologies to Forrest Gump.

We are all in that yellow, tiered, rectangular box, no exceptions. Look around, find yourself, your family, your friends. Plus, there is the “new, built-in sharpener” on the back.

Most of us possessed Crayola crayons in humble boxes with an 8 or 12 count, envying fellow classmates who lived in that heady world of 64 colors.

As children, our envy may have tempted us into being attentive to “borrowing” one of the 64 crayons off the schoolroom floor if beneficent fate laid that crayon at our feet, and the teacher was otherwise preoccupied. Catholic children could go to confession, but Protestant children had to live with that indiscretion for the remainder of their days.

Now that Crayola boxes come in 24, 96, 120, 152, and 240 counts, the 64-count box seems “quaint,” made more so by added entrepreneurial frills such as sparkle, glow, twisted, neon, oil, erasable, scented, confetti, world color, twistable, and gel crayons.

Yet the 64-count Crayola crayon box feels just right. It reflects America, for good and bad.

Sheldon Firem is a retired school psychologist and history teacher living in Chardon, Ohio.

Created in 1903, the 8-count Crayola crayon box included the basics: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, brown, and black.

Eight colors could not begin to paint the complexity of America.

The 64-count Crayola crayon box was introduced in 1958 and here we are, ready to color the world, sometimes staying in the lines.

Look at us in that box, we start out in nice, orderly rows, each of us with a sharp, colorful tip, unbroken and ready to fulfill our life’s mission. We are all wrapped in a new paper cover that proclaims our color.

The colors of all peoples are there: brown, white, black, yellow and red.

We exist side-by-side with a single goal, to color the world beautiful. Adults can do it, the disabled can do it, adolescents can do it, children can do it, and repentant sinners can do it. Even reformed politicians and backsliding tele-evangelists can do it.

The 64-count Crayola box is normally a congenial, democratic place, but it has its moments and issues.

Sometimes one selects a crayon from the box that is broken beneath the paper cover. Sometimes people look whole, but beneath their smile they are broken.

Sometimes the “flesh” colored crayon did not include all Americans and the color peach was born.

Sometimes the pink or blue crayons did not reflect the spectrum of gender identity, so orange-red/red-orange, green-yellow/yellow-green, and green-blue/blue-green colors remedied that oversight.

Sometimes the Indian red crayon did not portray Native Americans accurately so chestnut waxed eloquent.

Sometimes the sepia-colored crayon painted an idealized, nationalistic America that gave comfort to some but discomfort to many, so the color bittersweet was added.

Sometimes the maize, cornflower, thistle, periwinkle, goldenrod, orchid, lavender, mulberry, sea green, aquamarine, forest green, pine green, salmon, melon, and plum colors were under assault, so navy blue, cadet blue and green were enlisted to protect and preserve them.

Sometimes gold and silver crayons attempted to control the other 99% of the colors in the box, so copper, raw sienna, burnt umber, burnt orange, and raw umber re-democratized the box.

Sometimes the color magenta sought to aristocratically and authoritatively rule the box, so red-violet reminded magenta of its humble beginnings.

Sometimes red tended toward aggression, shame, and manipulativeness, so brown, white, black, yellow, and red united to re-normalize blue and white, the colors of international peace.

We are crayons together in this box of 64 colors. We typically unite our shades, tints, hues, and intensities for the common good.

Sometimes we crayons are broken, color-conscious, blinded by sepia, destructive of green and blue, dominated by gold and silver, and blinded by red, yet the yellow, tiered, rectangular box we live in holds redemption.

The “new, built-in sharpener” on the back of our box allows us to be once again remolded whole into America’s crayons.

Sheldon Firem is a retired school psychologist and history teacher living in Chardon, Ohio.

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