The Penny

There’s an old expression the goes, “a penny for your thoughts.” Well, when a really old penny ended up in my hand, it got me thinking.

But first, how that happened. We’ve got puppies and they are pad trained. Trouble is, you have to wash the pads, and our washing machine, even if cost more than my first car, isn’t designed to take that kind of abuse. So, about once a week, I go down to the laundromat and use one of their big machines to wash them.

I’d realized I was using a machine that someone had lost money in from their clothes when it started spinning out. It sounds like bullets bouncing off armor plate for a few seconds. When the machine finished spinning out, and I opened the door, I expected for a least a dollar or two in change to come out with my laundry.

Instead, a single penny came out and fell on the floor.

I’ve made a lifetime of picking up pennies. You can blame a story I heard where Jesus and one of his disciples are walking down this dusty road when Jesus spots an old penny lying in the path. He tells his disciple to pick it up, and the disciple make every excuse in the world not to. Some of them included people and animals have walked on it, and God knows what animals have dumped on it. So rather than argue, Jesus picked the penny up and they went on their way. They came to a small town and the market was in full operation. Jesus used the penny to purchase twelve cherries. He and his disciple continued on their way.

After a little while, Jesus saw his disciple was getting tired and thirst. So, He dropped a cherry. The man bent down, scooped it up, and popped it his mouth. After a couple of miles, and more dropped cherries, they were soon all gone. That’s when Jesus turned to his disciple and said, “You know, it’s strange. You bent down twelve times to pick up the cherries, but you never once bent down to pick up the penny that bought them.”

I know, it’s not in the Bible, but I still like the story.

So anytime a penny crosses my path, I’m picking it up.

So, when this penny fell on the laundry floor, I picked it up. I was surprised that it was 1941 San Franciso mint penny. All things considered; it was in pretty good shape.

But it’s not the idea that it might we worth something that got me thinking. The coin is a few years shy of being a hundred-years-old. I couldn’t help but think what had happened in all those years. When it was minted, the clouds of war were gathering. My father was in junior high, and my mother had barely been born. Most of the people I know weren’t even born when the coin was stamped out in San Francisco.

And so, this penny, shiny and new, went into circulation. If it could tell stories, what stories might it tell. Was it the difference between buying food and missing a meal? How about some kid using it to buy a pocket full of candy. Maybe it crossed the Atlantic or Pacific with a soldier or marine and was in their pocket when they waded ashore somewhere. Or maybe it was good luck charm for someone who found it only to lose it again. How many jars turned piggy banks did it sit in. How many beggars had it and how many wealthy people had it their pockets. Did anyone I know ever have it or has its path and mine crossed before.

The world the penny started its journey in was lightyears away from the one it was in when it fell to the floor and entered my little world. Crammed into the years was history. War flowed back and forth across the globe. The power of the atom was unleashed, and the common man could buy a ticket on an airline and fly across oceans. Neill and Buzz walked on the Moon. A young generation danced at Woodstock. Star Trek and Star Wars became cultural icons. And there was an almost complete reshaping of our society and world.

I got home, showed it to my wife, and then put it away with all the assorted trinkets and such collected through my journey. Then I logged onto the internet to see if it was worth anything. A 1941 penny in that shape is worth between seventeen cents and three dollars.

But the thoughts it made me ponder?

Priceless!