January 9, 2007--Penny Wise
What is it about saving pennies? For some, I know, it’s about the copper. With the price of copper on the rise, the value of the copper in one penny, melted down and made into ingots, is worth almost a cent and a half. So I understand those who horde pennies to make a buck.
But then there are the rest of us. We collect them because . . . . To tell you the truth, I’m not sure.
I began saving pennies when I was a kid—when a penny was worth, well, a penny; and for one you could actually buy something. In fact, if you had just two to rub together you could get yourself a Two-Cents Plain at the local candy store—a glass of club soda. Actually, Seltzer.
But I didn’t collect them to buy Seltzer or, for that matter, anything else. I just collected them. First in a mayonnaise jar and later, after I filled up a couple, in an empty gallon-sized pickle jug. And after about five years I managed to fill that too. It weighed about a hundred pounds (I had no idea whatsoever how much I could have gotten for it on the Commodities Exchange); and under pressure from my mother, who I think was worried it would cave in the floor and wind up in our landlord’s apartment on the first floor, I got penny rollers from the bank and spent at least a week turning them into rolls of fifty pennies each.
I was stunned to discover that my collecting mania added up to a hefty sum—about 42 dollars. Very proud of myself, I schlepped the rolls to the bank, about $10 at a time they were that heavy; and with the interest that accrued, the pennies helped pay my college tuition.
I need to report that even after graduating, getting a good job, and paying all my bills from my earnings, I still collect pennies and periodically schlepped twenty dollars worth over to the neighborhood Citibank. But with whatever interest I earn from them, since a penny isn’t what it used to be, there’s nothing equivalent to college tuition that they help defer. But still I keep at it.
So I was not in any way surprised to read about Annie Moore, who out in McKittrick, California saved so many pennies, maybe as many as a million, that she, using Elmer’s Glue, was able to literally cover all the walls, the floor, and everything else in her bar and grill—with pennies. Now if I had thought of that . . . who knows? (See linked NY Times story for the details.)
Over the years the so-called Penny Bar became quiet a tourist attraction. But the Moores are ready to retire and have it on the market. The asking price--$899,999.98, including all the pennies. You’re on your own to do the arithmetic to see if it’s a good deal.
A final thought—during the past ten years I have derived considerable pleasure from the pennies I find on the street. I’m happy about the ones that I get as change, but the found money is especially satisfying. There is the something-for-nothing pleasure to be sure. But there is much more satisfaction that comes from the belief that if I find one, particularly if it’s heads-up, I will have a good day.
I found one this morning on the way back from coffee. So far it’s working. But it’s only 12:47 p.m.
But then there are the rest of us. We collect them because . . . . To tell you the truth, I’m not sure.
I began saving pennies when I was a kid—when a penny was worth, well, a penny; and for one you could actually buy something. In fact, if you had just two to rub together you could get yourself a Two-Cents Plain at the local candy store—a glass of club soda. Actually, Seltzer.
But I didn’t collect them to buy Seltzer or, for that matter, anything else. I just collected them. First in a mayonnaise jar and later, after I filled up a couple, in an empty gallon-sized pickle jug. And after about five years I managed to fill that too. It weighed about a hundred pounds (I had no idea whatsoever how much I could have gotten for it on the Commodities Exchange); and under pressure from my mother, who I think was worried it would cave in the floor and wind up in our landlord’s apartment on the first floor, I got penny rollers from the bank and spent at least a week turning them into rolls of fifty pennies each.
I was stunned to discover that my collecting mania added up to a hefty sum—about 42 dollars. Very proud of myself, I schlepped the rolls to the bank, about $10 at a time they were that heavy; and with the interest that accrued, the pennies helped pay my college tuition.
I need to report that even after graduating, getting a good job, and paying all my bills from my earnings, I still collect pennies and periodically schlepped twenty dollars worth over to the neighborhood Citibank. But with whatever interest I earn from them, since a penny isn’t what it used to be, there’s nothing equivalent to college tuition that they help defer. But still I keep at it.
So I was not in any way surprised to read about Annie Moore, who out in McKittrick, California saved so many pennies, maybe as many as a million, that she, using Elmer’s Glue, was able to literally cover all the walls, the floor, and everything else in her bar and grill—with pennies. Now if I had thought of that . . . who knows? (See linked NY Times story for the details.)
Over the years the so-called Penny Bar became quiet a tourist attraction. But the Moores are ready to retire and have it on the market. The asking price--$899,999.98, including all the pennies. You’re on your own to do the arithmetic to see if it’s a good deal.
A final thought—during the past ten years I have derived considerable pleasure from the pennies I find on the street. I’m happy about the ones that I get as change, but the found money is especially satisfying. There is the something-for-nothing pleasure to be sure. But there is much more satisfaction that comes from the belief that if I find one, particularly if it’s heads-up, I will have a good day.
I found one this morning on the way back from coffee. So far it’s working. But it’s only 12:47 p.m.
posted by Steven Zwerling at
2:19 PM
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