Pamela Loxley Drake

The plug on the bank was removed. Coins were scattered across the floor. Pennies.

They were saved so the child could place them in the slot over and over again. Honest Abe residing in the black cast iron bank. My father’s bank. Little girl surrounded by pennies? Me.

Pennies will be a thing of the past like so many other things that are obsolete or no longer useful. I can relate to those coins. Sometimes I feel on the sidelines, no longer needed. And, like those once shiny pennies, the wear and tear shows.

Dad had a little change case. It was red, rubbery plastic. When he pinched the ends, it would open revealing his coins. Much like the pennies in the bank, the red purse and pennies occupied a little girl at church.

Pennies were tied in the end of my church hankie. Those went into the children’s offering plate. One already filled with many of those coppery discs.

Dad loved his coins. He had a collection of Indian head pennies. Abe was in good company. So now everything will be rounded up to eliminate the need for 1 cent in change.

It is a given that prices will never be reduced to do the same. Allowances will need to be adjusted for those little ones who get a few pennies for picking up their toys. No longer will there be a need for those contraptions that make a penny into a flat tourist souvenir. Penny candy will meet inflation. Penny loafers will need a new name. Nickle loafers? Just not the same.

No longer will I get a penny for my thoughts. Understanding the song “Pennies from Heaven” will be confusing to those raised in a time when there are none of those Abe Lincoln bits of copper.

Mom handed out pennies to us every Saturday after piano lessons, so we could go to Murphy’s 5 and 10 and spend them. We walked around the penny candy bins, looking for the same treat we always got each week.

I plan to keep my pennies. They now reside in my piggy bank. Perhaps I will take them out, scatter then on the rug then one by one place them into the slot.

Ah, sweet copper penny, I bid you farewell.

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Pamela Loxley Drake is a Beaverton resident and self-described lifelong “farm girl.” You can contact her at pamldrake@gmail.com.