Penny pinching in parking lots

“If you see a penny pick it up – then all day you’ll have good luck.” Every time my mother bent over to pick up a penny, she said exactly that. Without fail. And she picked up every penny she saw.

In her later years, her balance was not so hot. If I was walking with her and she spotted a coin, I was the bender and picker-upper. It was never an inconvenience. Mom trained me early. We did not go around staring at the ground for lost coins. But honestly, just having eagle eyes meant we found more than our share over the years. And not just pennies.

I vividly remember an afternoon in the Boston subway. I was maybe six or seven years old. We were walking down the platform for our train when Mom stomped her foot and stopped walking. We were holding hands, and she tugged me to stop. “Bend down by my feet; I am going to lift my right foot and when I do, you snatch the silver dollar that I’m standing on.” A silver dollar? I didn’t even know that such a thing existed. Mom didn’t want to bend over and I guess she reasoned that I was closer to the ground. The coin was an oldie. She was thrilled, but I never did know what happened to it. It could have been in with all the coins she left behind when she died. Heck, it might even be in my safe deposit box with the rest of her old coins stash.

When I was a kid, dimes always intrigued me. Maybe it’s because they were shiny, or the fact that they were half the size of those fat nickels but twice as powerful in Murphy’s candy store. Maybe it was because dimes were the Tooth Fairy’s coin of the realm. I stashed the dimes that she left under my pillow and saved them for a major purchase. Nickels were only good for one thing: Milky Ways.

My late husband Tom always stacked dimes and quarters on his bedside table. He liked the silver. When he finished emptying his pockets of the nickels and pennies, he gave them to me to toss in the gallon mayonnaise jar where we stockpiled our retirement savings. Each morning he always tossed a few dimes and quarters back in his pants pockets while dressing … I think for the parking meters.

It still amazes me how many coins I find. Rarely does a week go by without my pocketing a coin or two. I had to open my car door at Tim Hortons drive-thru because a dollar bill blew out of my hand. With barely enough room to reach the buck, I noticed a veritable handful of coins on the ground below the window. And not just pennies. Handing change back to customers through the window is obviously not an exact science. I only took the quarters and dimes I could reach.

Parking lots are the great hunting ground. I don’t purposely head across Aldi or Wegman’s lot staring down for cold hard cash, but as often as not, a shiny copper or sparkling dime

will wink up at me. I think I have come to a realization – nobody else wants to bend over for such a skimpy payoff. Younger people definitely do not – they understand the pathetic value of our small change, so they don’t bother. I guess picker-uppers my age remember what a coin used to be worth. Dear Richard confessed that he picks up every nickel and dime he sees. When I asked him about pennies he said “Sure – why not?”

When I Googled that opening statement about picking up pennies, there were many versions. One said something like, “only pick up a coin that is heads up – tails up coins are unlucky.” I don’t believe that. Those dimes and quarters fit into the parking meter just as well either way. I guess I’m just not superstitious enough.

Well, maybe a little. When I bend down for a particularly shiny penny, I feel Mom smiling behind me. I warm inwardly, knowing she approves and is thinking of me.

But something else happens when it’s a dime. For some reason, I’m always rushed, or anxious, or juggling errands when I spot the shiny little omen. And for some other reason, I’ve known for a long time now that it is Tom O’Brien, my late husband, just saying, “Relax. Everything’s going to be alright. Breathe.” And I do. And everything is fine. Every time.

Like I said, I’m not superstitious.

Marcy O’Brien writes her award-winning column for the Jamestown Post Journal and the Dunkirk Observer, as well as her hometown newspaper in Warren, Pa. She may be reached at moby.32@hotmail.com.