When I was a bonnie wee lass, sometimes I'd be given a coin for the grocery store gumball machines. I loved gum, oh how I loved gum. Actually, I loved pretty much anything that came out of those machines. It could be a slimy orange replica of He-Man's second cousin for all I cared... as long as I got to put money in the slot, turn the crank, and receive something out of the little metal door, I was happy.
In the early 80s you could still get a tiny gumball for a penny at some places. My mom was not the type to indulge me constantly, and so I was left to fend for myself. If I had my own penny, I could get gum. Otherwise, nada. Only thing was, I didn't have any income, not even an allowance (until I was about seven.) This left one option: finding pennies on the ground.
And so there I'd be, walking alongside my mother through the aisles, my head tilted downward, my eyes focused on the ground. Scanning. Looking in crevices. Doing a hopeful double-take at any semi-shiny object, be it a gum wrapper, a piece of foil, or a syringe (okay, kidding.) But despite my best efforts, rarely did I ever find any money at all.
Yet, as an adult, I've found many, many pennies on the ground. Why? Who knows. It could be because they're worth less nowadays -- people don't care as much if they lose them, and maybe it's too much of an effort to pick up a stray. All I know is I keep finding them.
And yes, I pick them up.
And someday, I might even have a DOLLAR!
:D
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