a coinage

During his morning walk, he spotted a wet penny on the black glistening pavement as he walked downhill on Lewis and Clark Street. Only a thin crescent of the penny glistened; the rest was darkened by time and decay. He picked it up. He walked a few more steps. A trove of pennies. And one dime, shiny in the damp. He bent to pick them up. Was anyone watching him in the snowy rain? He stooped and rose, stooped and rose. Is this embarrassing? Is this what old men do on their morning walks? Twenty filthy pennies and one dime. Filthy to the point of non-recognition except by shape, diameter, and thickness. Not texture; disgustingly dirtied. He left one penny on the pavement. A statement. A question. A tease. An invitation. Thirty cents. Home. Washed with dish detergent, to little avail; cleanser, same results. Rinse. No. not the steel wool. Rest them on a paper towel. Rinse with finger rubbing. Pick them up. Put them in the coin jar. Will the machine take them? Was it worth it? Why? Worth exactly what? What was the point?

post scriptum: Two days later, I returned to the scene of the dime (and pennies). The penny I had deliberately left remained on the ground. Truthfully, it was impossible to say, because scattered on the ground was a constellation of a dozen or so pennies. Which penny was the one I had decided to leave there, as a "message"? Impossible to say. More disturbing is this notion: did I not see that many other pennies on my first go-round? Either way, on this coin-incidence I kept walking. I had no inclination to stoop to conquer said artifacts. Who would do such a clumsy, doddering thing?

A Penny for Your Thoughts, Redux

Two days in a row I walked by a penny on the sidewalk. I did not pick it up. Time was, out of a sense of good sense (and cents) and savings, one would pick up a penny, even if for good luck. I did not bother. This disappoints me. Not that I harbor sentimental illusions about how much I am missing out on, how much my savings potential is diminished. (On that note, I am diligent. I have a large change jar, sometimes two. The resultant savings have paid for trips. I have also started a savings envelope, to which I contribute sometimes more than once a day: for fun and emergencies. I highly recommend these pecuniary practices.) Would I stoop to retrieve a dollar bill? Yes. But my inaction reflects a mindset, a way of thinking that got us into this economic morass. Many would pass up a dollar, I'd wager (though wagering is against the spirit of saving). Would they sneeze at a five or a ten? Walking on the sidewalk, when I was in first grade or so, I found a five-dollar bill, on the grass, moored there waiting for me on a windy day, if memory serves. What a thrill! What would that translate to in today's dollars, or euros? There are unwritten conventions, or used to be, regarding such findings. If you are in a hallway of a building and you find, say, a benjamin, are you honor-bound to inquire if anyone has lost one? Is that naive? What do you do next: invite claimants to recite the serial number? Funny thing is, I don't know if the penny is still there, waiting. Maybe it's a 1909 S VDB penny.