Back to School

It is really loud there. And the teachers seem as excited as the children to be back. I surprise myself that I get weepy when this isn't the first first day of school for my kids. We went through this last year, but it still feels like letting go.

Randy Pausch in his book The Last Lecture talks about carrying a crayon around in his pocket. Every now and then he would pull it out and take a good whiff. I thought it was weird...until I tried it. There really is something distinctive about crayon wax that transports you back in time to childhood and school days. Randy was a black and white crayon kind of guy. And if you haven't read his little book, you should. I think I should warn you, though, he does die. Still. That's the point of the book - making what was left of his life really matter. Is it right to waste this one life, this only life we have being miserable and making everyone else around us miserable as well? Is that really how any of us want to be? Especially when we realize this really is the only life we get - on this earth, anyway.

I know on some days it is SO MUCH easier said then done. But I get that when you realize you have a limited time to do something - whether it is live or ride one more ride at Six Flags or I don't know, eat only one more Little Debbie snack, wouldn't you be deliberate about your choice?

Boy, is this turning into a macabre discussion. And if this were my last blog, I think I would go back to...


My favorites in the box were sea green and sky blue. They were the prettiest to me. The sea green reminded me of the truck my Aunt Willie Pearl used to drive. It was a big honkin' Ford truck. I fell out of the back of that truck one time and lived to lie about it. Well, I'm not sure I lied about it so much as some of my older cousins did because maybe we weren't supposed to be riding with the tail gate down. Or maybe it was okay to do it, as long as the runt cousin didn't get skinned up.

I remember the pride I felt when I bought (in my twenties, mind you) a big box of 96 Crayola. They were so special. I let my oldest niece Jessica (who was maybe six at the time) color with them

and she broke one.

I pointed out to her, "You broke my crayon!" and with very little concern, she said, "Well, you have all these other ones."

So, I think there was a lesson there in that conversation.

Sometimes a crayon breaks. But when you have lots of others, it's no big deal. Not worth getting upset over.

And it wasn't the sky blue or the sea green one, so I think she had a valid point. And although there were 95 other crayons, there was only that one time that she used them. Not because I didn't want her to, but because the opportunity never arose again.

Go ahead. Take in the aroma of the crayon. It does remind you, doesn't it, of elementary school days? Did you have a favorite color?