Pennies, for your thoughts
As a child I learned to cherish every penny I was given
I had a monkey.
Not a real monkey, it was plastic.
And it wasn't even a real plastic monkey.
It was a plastic gorilla.
Holding a banana.
But I called it my monkey.
Each penny I was given
Or found
Or swiped from the kitchen counter where my father would empty his pockets
Went into the slot in my monkey's head Plink.
One by one Plink.
Sometimes shiny, sometimes dull.
Plink.
The sound coming a fraction of a second sooner each week
As pennies filled the feet Plink.
The torso Plink.
The shoulders
Until one day my penny had to be wedged sideways into the head.
Full, it weighed more than I did.
I kept trying open the bottom.
Pennies could be found, if you knew where to look.
Sofa cushions, especially couches of friends whose mothers didn't clean that often.
For years I dipped my fingers into every pay phone coin return,
Lifted the corners of floor mats,
Swept an arm under every vending machine where coins were so often dropped.
and janitors never bothered to vacuum.
I amassed a small fortune, a monkey-full.
I watched Santa, on Little House on the Prairie,
Give Mary one penny for Christmas.
Just a penny, Santa?
I began to suspect he wasn't the real Santa after all.
He looked too much like the Ingalls' neighbor.
"Just" a penny
She cherished it.
Agonized over what to buy with it
And whether to spend it all on herself or share with her sister.
Pennies were no longer just for saving.
They were useful.
Exchanged for trinkets soon lost, broken, and forgotten.
In summer we walked barefoot to the store on the lake.
Where one penny could get you a whole swedish fish.
And at the general store in town, a penny was a root beer barrel.
Twenty-five pennies, shaken from the monkey
(once I'd pried off the cap)
could get you a whole quarter on Saturday mornings.
Months of collecting in exchange for three minutes of Frogger at the bowling alley.
That copper allure was replaced by the charm of silver coins
Or better yet - the green paper.
Green paper was the stuff of dreams.
It was GI Joe and comic books,
And the big candy bars, not rootbeer barrels.
Green paper meant a switch from the plastic coin purse to a folding wallet.
Green paper made me grown up.
Pennies in my pocket became a nuisance,
Jingling when I walked wearing baggy pants.
The ones found on the sidewalk were only picked up if the right side was facing toward the sky
And eventually, not even then.
Pennies were thrown in a bowl with pocket lint,
Abandoned in the couch cushions,
Sucked up by the vacuum cleaner without much thought.
Were it not for the monkey, and the CoinStar machine at the supermarket,
My useless pennies would have been swept into trash cans by the fistful
Sent to the landfill
Where even the rocks had no need for them.
The monkey was my savings of last resort.
More than once, I dumped out a portion to cash in,
Just enough copper to fill the gas tank.
As a college student eating Ramen and then as a brand new teacher
The pennies came in handy.
Ten pennies sustained late-night cravings for noodles.
As a teacher.
I brought them to school for science class
To be dissolved in acid
Used as weights for scales
All kinds of experiments.
My students talked of throwing them,
throwing away money!
off the Empire State Building and cracking sidewalks.
They would never think of throwing a dollar bill
Not only because it wouldn't crack the sidewalk
But because it was worth something.
No one would think twice about losing a penny.
Were I to leave a penny as a tip
It would not be a gift, but an insult.
Pennies are left for strangers
On convenience store counters.
And I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't feel guilty reaching into the tray
because I needed one cent.
Take a penny, leave a penny indeed.
Pennies are only for leaving.
I lugged that monkey full of pennies from apartment to apartment, house to house,
Its weight a barometer of my financial status.
Nine different apartments
And it was still half full
When I cashed the last of it in for $27 the summer we bought the house.
Not even two dollars per pound.
Felt like it should have been so much more.
My distaste for pennies eventually extended to all spare change.
Each day my pocketful of coins is dumped in a jar, a bowl, or left thoughtlessly on the nearest surface.
Those days I forget, we pick it out of the dryer, grumbling.
It drives my wife crazy.
She keeps her coins in a purse.
When our daughter was born, we received gifts.
Some cash, but no one sent pennies. No one.
In fact, as she grew older, our aim was to keep things the size of pennies out of her reach.
We feared she would put them in her mouth and choke.
Pennies were dangerous.
Pennies had power.
She's learning new words so fast these days.
One of the latest is Penny.
We go shopping together.
I let her hand over the green papers.
She loves to get the change back.She loves pennies.
When she says the word her eyes brighten
Her small hand reaches out hopefully
Toes dance with anticipation
I catch her eyeing the ones on the kitchen counter, where her father empties out his pockets.
I know what she's thinking.
She has discovered that pennies are magical.
And with her I have found it again as well.
Once again my treasure,
I keep track of them,
Save them,
Only for the joy of giving them away.
One penny can get you a smile.
Good behavior from a child overdue for a nap.
A penny is a pee pee on the potty.
I dread the day she learns the other coins are worth lots of pennies
They day they cease to be magical,
Tarnishing beside silver and green paper.
Last week in the basement
helping Daddy rummage through old boxes
I heard her declare, "Monkey!"
It's not a monkey, I told her.
It's a gorilla.
But you can call it whatever you like.
I showed her the slot in the top
Just the right size for pennies.
It's her favorite thing to do.
Plink, Plink.
She'll pee pee on the potty again and again
Just for a penny
And I'll give her another one every time
Just to watch my daughter smile.
I had a monkey.
Not a real monkey, it was plastic.
And it wasn't even a real plastic monkey.
It was a plastic gorilla.
Holding a banana.
But I called it my monkey.
Each penny I was given
Or found
Or swiped from the kitchen counter where my father would empty his pockets
Went into the slot in my monkey's head Plink.
One by one Plink.
Sometimes shiny, sometimes dull.
Plink.
The sound coming a fraction of a second sooner each week
As pennies filled the feet Plink.
The torso Plink.
The shoulders
Until one day my penny had to be wedged sideways into the head.
Full, it weighed more than I did.
I kept trying open the bottom.
Pennies could be found, if you knew where to look.
Sofa cushions, especially couches of friends whose mothers didn't clean that often.
For years I dipped my fingers into every pay phone coin return,
Lifted the corners of floor mats,
Swept an arm under every vending machine where coins were so often dropped.
and janitors never bothered to vacuum.
I amassed a small fortune, a monkey-full.
I watched Santa, on Little House on the Prairie,
Give Mary one penny for Christmas.
Just a penny, Santa?
I began to suspect he wasn't the real Santa after all.
He looked too much like the Ingalls' neighbor.
"Just" a penny
She cherished it.
Agonized over what to buy with it
And whether to spend it all on herself or share with her sister.
Pennies were no longer just for saving.
They were useful.
Exchanged for trinkets soon lost, broken, and forgotten.
In summer we walked barefoot to the store on the lake.
Where one penny could get you a whole swedish fish.
And at the general store in town, a penny was a root beer barrel.
Twenty-five pennies, shaken from the monkey
(once I'd pried off the cap)
could get you a whole quarter on Saturday mornings.
Months of collecting in exchange for three minutes of Frogger at the bowling alley.
That copper allure was replaced by the charm of silver coins
Or better yet - the green paper.
Green paper was the stuff of dreams.
It was GI Joe and comic books,
And the big candy bars, not rootbeer barrels.
Green paper meant a switch from the plastic coin purse to a folding wallet.
Green paper made me grown up.
Pennies in my pocket became a nuisance,
Jingling when I walked wearing baggy pants.
The ones found on the sidewalk were only picked up if the right side was facing toward the sky
And eventually, not even then.
Pennies were thrown in a bowl with pocket lint,
Abandoned in the couch cushions,
Sucked up by the vacuum cleaner without much thought.
Were it not for the monkey, and the CoinStar machine at the supermarket,
My useless pennies would have been swept into trash cans by the fistful
Sent to the landfill
Where even the rocks had no need for them.
The monkey was my savings of last resort.
More than once, I dumped out a portion to cash in,
Just enough copper to fill the gas tank.
As a college student eating Ramen and then as a brand new teacher
The pennies came in handy.
Ten pennies sustained late-night cravings for noodles.
As a teacher.
I brought them to school for science class
To be dissolved in acid
Used as weights for scales
All kinds of experiments.
My students talked of throwing them,
throwing away money!
off the Empire State Building and cracking sidewalks.
They would never think of throwing a dollar bill
Not only because it wouldn't crack the sidewalk
But because it was worth something.
No one would think twice about losing a penny.
Were I to leave a penny as a tip
It would not be a gift, but an insult.
Pennies are left for strangers
On convenience store counters.
And I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't feel guilty reaching into the tray
because I needed one cent.
Take a penny, leave a penny indeed.
Pennies are only for leaving.
I lugged that monkey full of pennies from apartment to apartment, house to house,
Its weight a barometer of my financial status.
Nine different apartments
And it was still half full
When I cashed the last of it in for $27 the summer we bought the house.
Not even two dollars per pound.
Felt like it should have been so much more.
My distaste for pennies eventually extended to all spare change.
Each day my pocketful of coins is dumped in a jar, a bowl, or left thoughtlessly on the nearest surface.
Those days I forget, we pick it out of the dryer, grumbling.
It drives my wife crazy.
She keeps her coins in a purse.
When our daughter was born, we received gifts.
Some cash, but no one sent pennies. No one.
In fact, as she grew older, our aim was to keep things the size of pennies out of her reach.
We feared she would put them in her mouth and choke.
Pennies were dangerous.
Pennies had power.
She's learning new words so fast these days.
One of the latest is Penny.
We go shopping together.
I let her hand over the green papers.
She loves to get the change back.She loves pennies.
When she says the word her eyes brighten
Her small hand reaches out hopefully
Toes dance with anticipation
I catch her eyeing the ones on the kitchen counter, where her father empties out his pockets.
I know what she's thinking.
She has discovered that pennies are magical.
And with her I have found it again as well.
Once again my treasure,
I keep track of them,
Save them,
Only for the joy of giving them away.
One penny can get you a smile.
Good behavior from a child overdue for a nap.
A penny is a pee pee on the potty.
I dread the day she learns the other coins are worth lots of pennies
They day they cease to be magical,
Tarnishing beside silver and green paper.
Last week in the basement
helping Daddy rummage through old boxes
I heard her declare, "Monkey!"
It's not a monkey, I told her.
It's a gorilla.
But you can call it whatever you like.
I showed her the slot in the top
Just the right size for pennies.
It's her favorite thing to do.
Plink, Plink.
She'll pee pee on the potty again and again
Just for a penny
And I'll give her another one every time
Just to watch my daughter smile.
posted by Christopher at 10:56 PM
0 unmatched socks have been put in this sock drawer.
Add your own sock.
