Brennan Ware shares his thoughts on the humble beginnings of The Crayon Initiative and his observations on how it’s evolved.
Hey, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I’m Brennan Ware, and I’m Bryan’s kid, which means I’ve been privy to the Crayon Initiative’s growth since the very beginning. Saying that now seems a little ridiculous, actually, considering this brainchild of his has been developing and expanding and evolving for more than half my life, but it’s true. I was there at the dinner in 2011, when this project was born. I remember the thought glowing behind my dad’s eyes, and the way he sat up straighter as he turned the question over and over in his mind. I remember his hands drumming the table as he waited for the check, and the way he leaned toward the waiter as he asked where crayons went after they were placed on the table. I remember the waiter’s light tone, replying cheerfully that all that color, all that potential, was dumped into waste heaps, regardless of if it was even touched or not. But my most vivid memory of that night is the moment we stepped out of the restaurant, and I looked back at my dad, trailing behind, thinking, considering. He had this funny look on his face, some cross between concern and calculation, a fundamental dissatisfaction with the state of things. I didn’t understand that look at the time, but now I recognize it as determination. A mixture of passion and conviction, the backbone of all action, the unwavering resolve to push through and hold firm to one’s vision in the face of adversity. I witnessed the genesis of the Crayon Initiative, the moment my dad set his sights on this goal, this dream of saving crayons, the purest instruments of creation, for those who need a little color, imagination, and hope in their lives.
It was only a few years after that dinner that the first semblances of the project formed in our own house. Crayons from restaurants and schools that believed in my dad’s mission would show up on our doorstep and pile up patiently in the garage and the living room – my mother loved when they were in the living room. Every now and then, my dad would melt the crayons down and pour their wax into a specialized mold that was wheeled into the kitchen. For a few hours at a time, my dad and whoever could be convinced to join him – my brother and I, my mother, and often Steve Sumner, a family friend – would melt crayons over the oven, pour them into the mold, and fill the entire house with the horrendously heavy odor of wax. The wall behind our oven is still speckled from rogue splatters of color, and so was much of my dad’s clothing, for a time. But he persisted. He knew what he wanted to do, and where he wanted to go. He found people willing to listen, and then, willing to support the vision he held with such adamance. Even some local news outlets began to take notice of this passion project that was quickly becoming so much more. And still, we were getting more crayons, far more than we could keep up with between sorting the colors, molding the wax, packaging and shipping… It was a dream that was bigger than any one family. The support we received, however, was far greater than we could have expected, too, and offered a feasible counterbalance to the influx of crayons we were accumulating in our house.
So, along came the first few volunteer events. I’ll be the first to admit I was shocked at how many people wanted to put aside hours of their day to put the reds with reds and the blues with blues, no matter how necessary it was. And then, the number of people who wanted to help simply… kept growing. What were once backyard get-togethers with two or three families became sprawling corporate-sponsored fundraisers and community-wide efforts for sustainability and altruism as major companies and local organizations rallied behind the Crayon Initiative’s vision. The dream was gaining traction. And it quickly became apparent that the dream was far too big for the house. Crayon boxes became crayon palettes and began to fill entire warehouses, where people looking to make a difference would drop off their collected crayons in droves. One mold became four in this space you’re standing in right now, and elementary schools would bring classes here to acquire a taste for selflessness. Volunteers would drift in and out during events that ran smoother than clockwork if you discount all the hiccups during setup. Boxes upon boxes of crayons were shipped to hospitals across the entire country, free of charge. Things were moving, better than anyone could have expected from the start.
Now, if you’d direct your attention to the back of the room, right behind the cooktops, you’ll see a large board. It’s a black board, but you wouldn’t know that now, filled as it is with the creations of children who have taken time out of their day to contribute to our mission: dogs, cats, trees, rainbows, dinosaurs, anything and everything they can dream of, the purest expressions of their imaginations. The day I knew for certain that my dad had made something special was not the news outlets, or the volunteer events, or the new spaces. It wasn’t when we began bringing the excess paper from melted crayons to Duraflame, it wasn’t when the Crayon Initiative organized a golf tournament in its own name for the first time, and it certainly wasn’t when we found a Blackberry phone amid the crayons once. It was when I walked in to help one day and every space on that board was full. Full of dreams, of colors, of determination, the courage within these kids to keep giving back, to do what they know is right, to stand and say, “I’m here for you. I believe in you. You can do this.” That determination is the epitome of the Crayon Initiative and everything it aims to do. From the start, this mission has been about preserving and rewarding the resolve of children undergoing strife, and instilling within them a sense of hope that things will get better, that they can dare to imagine a world beyond the hospital, a world with light and color and dreams and life. In pursuit of that ideal, the Crayon Initiative itself has become infused with the same determination, the same courage to imagine a better world and the same conviction to fully realize that vision, due in no small part to my dad’s unwavering desire to bring about a better tomorrow for what is now one million hospitalized children. It has been my honor, pleasure, and privilege to bear witness to the growth and determination of the Crayon Initiative since that dinner fourteen years ago. So thank you to everyone who’s ever gotten crayon streaks on their fingers during sorting, thank you to everyone who’s ever rubbed wax off their skin during melting, thank you to everyone who’s ever struggled to fold the crayon packs shut. Thank you to everyone here, and thank you to my dad, for your determination.
Thank you.