By Simon Ambit
I recently heard the poem “The Crayon Box That Talked” by Shane DeRolf. It reads:
While walking in a toy store the day before today
I overheard a crayon box with many things to say.
“I don’t like Red!” said Yellow, and Green said, “Nor do I!
And no one here likes Orange, but no one knows just why.”
“We are a bunch of crayons that doesn’t get along,”
Said Blue to all the others, “Something here is wrong!”
Well, I bought that box of crayons and took it home with me,
And laid out all the colors so the crayons could all see.
They watched me as I colored with Red and Blue and Green,
And Black and White and Orange and every color in between.
They watched as Green became the grass and Blue became the sky.
The Yellow sun was shining bright on White clouds drifting by.
Colors were changing as they touched, becoming something new.
They watched me as I colored, they watched ’til I was through.
And when I’d finally finished I began to walk away.
And as I did, the crayon box had something more to say.
“I do like Red!” said Yellow, and Green said, “So do I!
And Blue, you were terrific so high up in the sky!”
“We are a box of crayons, each one of us unique.
But when we get together the picture is complete.”
Growing up here, we were always told that this area of Castle Country was “a melting pot.” I was even taught the definition in the classrooms of Westridge Middle School (the building now home to the school district offices and the Lighthouse Learning Center). By definition, we live in an area where different peoples, styles, theories, etc. are mixed together. In addition to being mixed together, I am always impressed with the way that the great people of this great area always work alongside one another, get along as friend neighbor and look past differences of opinion, religion and ideals.
Not only does this create a comfortable living environment, but I believe that just like the box of crayons, using these many different cultures and heritage backgrounds have allowed the many generations of Carbon and Emery counties to become stronger and better versed than we would be otherwise.
One example from my own life; I am thankful for the ancestral Scottish and Viking blood that flows through the veins of my little boy, which causes him to fight for what he feels is right. Yet, I thank heaven for his English grandparents whose calm influence I see in the way he tenderly helps his mom and sisters, or cuddles his dog on the back porch.
I thank my close friend whose parents were direct immigrants from Italy, who taught me the art of cooking meat on a homemade rotisserie, a lesson that will forever bless my life… and my belly!
Whoever we are or wherever we come from, whatever we believe or whom we pray to, we are each an important crayon in the box of our family and community. This life is a work of art; let us work together and take time to paint the bigger picture together!