I too had advice on the fine art of picking up pennies from my Grandmother. I was told "If you are ever too proud to bend down and pick up a penny something bad will happen to you" We have a "Walking Around" jar on the kitchen counter and faithfully place our beloved finds in it. It is nice to know that we are kindred spirits. Glad to know you are out there James Fragale.
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In Praise of a Humble Coin
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My mama used to hum, sing and dance to "The Best Things in Life Are Free" while cleaning house. Eight of us lived in a cramped basement apartment from which we were eventually evicted. Once I got brave enough to ask Mom for a penny. Her response was to spit in my hand. Heigh-ho, Mother's ingenuous approach to life would not work today. She'd be disappointed that most folks don't bother with painstaking activities that take time, patience and attention to detail, as she did. And my gallant, hardworking, penny-pinching Italian mother of six would have been mortified at disposables. Mom tucked away treasures like dress-shirt buttons and last year's Christmas bows. On the plus side, she was spared recycle guilt. Mama-Lou died after an agonizing bout of breast cancer right before recycling became fashionable.
So what does my obsession net me? About a thousand a year—or approximately $10. That pittance wouldn't begin to cover this year's rent increase, up 10.5 percent. Gym membership, up 20 percent. Food prices, notoriously high in New York, now obscenely outpriced. A trip to the doctor, dentist or drugstore? Don't even go there. What I do get from my thousand-plus pennies is incalculable comfort. Every year, in my mother's honor, I match them times 10 and donate the total to the breast cancer run in Central Park. Mama would be pleased.
Fragale lives in New York City.
© 2008
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