There’s an old saying, “Find a penny, pick it up, all day you’ll have good luck.” I’ve always wanted to believe it’s true. Our local bagel shop still has a small coin dish on the counter near the register, where people can take or leave a penny as needed.
Inside a box in my closet are three navy blue penny collection books, which my father sent to me after my grandparents died. The books were made by the Whitman Publishing Company in Racine, Wisconsin. The oldest penny in the collection is from 1910, of which 146.8 million were made.
Now they are my prized collection.
My grandparents collected coins
Pennies have been jangling around the bottoms of purses and car floorboards, collected in coffee mugs, glass jugs, and other vessels for generations. What baby boomer or Gen X-er hasn’t dug between couch cushions to scrounge up loose change to buy candy, gum, or a soda? That tiny pocket on your jeans was originally designed to hold a pocket watch, but as a teenager in the 80s, it held dimes or quarters for the pay phone, and maybe even a lucky penny or two.
My grandparents collected coins and introduced me to their hobby when I was young. I didn’t stick with it, but the activity instilled a couple of things. I became more observant, excitedly checking the year on every penny I found. If you saved enough of them, who knew what they might add up to.
I recall going to the bank to obtain the brown paper sleeves for rolling pennies. Twenty-five in each. Every fourth sleeve equaled another whole dollar.
It doesn’t happen often anymore, but nothing exasperates my kids faster than me digging for exact change at the checkout. “No one wants your coins Mom,” they’ll say loudly while looking apologetically at the cashier. I’ve taught them it all spends the same. There are, however, some rules regarding the use of change, especially pennies. As a waitress in my younger days, it’s a well-known fact that leaving pennies as a tip is considered a sign of disrespect.
I’ve always loved pennies
One night in the mid-80s, a group of teenagers came into the coffee shop in Running Springs, California, where I worked the 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. shift, at 10:45 p.m. They wanted milkshakes, and I’d already cleaned the machine. I told them we don’t usually make shakes that late, but I’d make an exception for them. I was also intimidated and wanted to show them kindness that most people in town didn’t.
When it was time to pay the bill, they left a pile of change that barely covered the cost of the shakes, including a lot of pennies. I remember being mad and embarrassed that I’d tried too hard. In that instance, all those pennies made it feel worse.
The penny has a long history of being problematic in one way or another. I’ve always loved them. Maybe because of a more personal connection. An early childhood memory is of my maternal grandfather, pointing at a penny on the ground, picking it up, and exclaiming in his booming Armenian voice, “You know you’re related to this guy?” According to Ancestry, I’m a 6th cousin, five times removed, from our 16th President — the iconic face of the penny —through my maternal great-grandmother, Martha, whose maiden name was Lincoln.
The US won’t produce any more pennies
While inevitable, the news of the US minting its last penny on November 12, 2025, feels bittersweet. I find myself wondering if my grandchildren will appreciate the collection. It feels strange and a bit sad that they don’t have much exposure to coins as a form of currency. They’ll never know the thrill of finding a wheat penny, or looking at an old coin and wondering about all the places it’s been.
In 2001, I remarried, relocated from Southern California to the Philadelphia suburbs, and secured a position as a corporate secretary. Not long after I started, I went shopping with one of my bosses who’d become a fast friend to buy a new wallet. After purchasing, she handed me a shiny penny (which I still have) to put inside. For luck, she said.
I feel a kind of reverence for a penny on the ground, a “hello” from my grandparents. Having experienced financial insecurity, it feels disrespectful to ignore a penny on the floor. It’s always been, for me, a symbol of little things that add up to big things. That, and the sight of my cousin, Honest Abe’s face, lying on the ground, will keep me picking up stray pennies.
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