What's a penny really worth?

I remember when we had a houseful of kids. That was in the days when I knew where all of them were going to be spending the next holiday—like Thanksgiving. Now it takes all of them up until the day before to figure out whether they are going to go to the inlaws’ or to my house—”over the river and through the woods” notwithstanding.

But in that bygone household, on any sort of day, the value of various things could be measured by where they were kept.

Things of the most worth like diaries, notes from boyfriends, five-dollar bills and packs of gum were generally kept out of sight and under lock and key if possible.

Level two valuables like homework assignments were kept on the kitchen table, on the desk, in pockets, and occasionally in bookbags.

Sometimes there were slipups like when we kept our watches instead of our homework in our pockets and they got laundered. (Just ask me who makes the best watches.) (Just ask me how homework fares in the heavy-duty cycle.)

The things of least value were kept on the floor. The floor was public domain. Anything found on the floor could be snapped up by an ungrateful public. What was left were things like broken pencils, gum wrappers, playground gravel, lint, and last but not least—pennies.

If you really want to know the value of something, just watch a kid. Will he walk past a dollar bill and not pick it up? Will he walk past a stick of gum? Will he walk past a penny?

The value of a penny is such that no one will pick it up. Well, I will pick pennies up when I clean the level three repository, not because I intend to move them to levels one or two, but because they litter up the place.

The only thing that kept me from throwing them out with the playground gravel is that they were federal property on public domain. I’ve heard that it is a federal offense to destroy or throw out money, and I don’t want to tangle with the feds. I will leave it to them to throw the money around.

So I put the pennies I swept up in a Fleischman’s yeast can or a quart mayonnaise jar. After a while, the jars began to be a clutter too. Mostly at the level two repositories.

Everyone in our house knew that pennies were public property. Whoever wanted them could have them, but not even the kids would expend the time it took to roll the pennies and carry them to the bank.

One day we did get ambitious or poor, and we rolled a quart of pennies and took them to the bank hoping to exchange them for real money. The tellers didn’t want them either.

So what was I going to do with all of those pennies? It occurred to me that I could pay the kids to take them, but it doesn’t seem right to have to pay someone to take money when what it is is money.

From time to time I hear that congress or someone might abolish the penny, so if they ever have a penny referendum, vote against pennies. They are a public nuisance, a waste of good copper, an eyesore and a mess you can’t get rid of.

One week I got lucky though. Someone was collecting change at the high school for a worthy cause. We unloaded a couple of quarts of pennies—a jar for each high schooler–a couple of days in a row. I guess that the charity was happy to get them. I don’t know how they were able to turn them into real money. Maybe they paid the bank to take them.

I had quite a fright that week, though. I noticed a nickel lying on the floor for two whole days. It was in plain sight, not far off the main drag. I finally picked it up and put it in a comeback cup.