[A repeat from December 11, 2014] My parents taught me early to keep my eyes open. And to watch for coins on the street or sidewalk. In my post of August 2, 2012, I spoke of picking up pennies, nickels, dimes, dollar bills — as well as cell phones, wallets, watches and fine jewelry (some mighty fine). I still do. My eyes are glued to the ground. And yes – I still pick up pennies. And nails (see 1/8/17). All monetary finds go into a bowl for a year-end charitable donation. It’s really a game. A personal challenge. To see what I can find.
During the week, I catch the train and go downtown to my office. Each day as I walk across the train tracks, I slow. Looking. I have never put a coin on the railroad tracks (to do so would probably invite several years in the penitentiary). But I’m on the scout for those errant “run over” coins that have been placed on the tracks — and lost — by others. Over the years, I have acquired a nice collection. Nineteen flattened coins to be precise. A few quarters. Dimes. Nickels. Pennies. Each one I’m sure has a story. Just as each lost coin has a story. The good thing is that if I ever run low on cash, I can always take these run over coins to the bank and trade them in for unscathed versions. One dollar and thirty-six cents by my count.