Some of Dad's Smooched Pennies
When I was little I use to think I was most like my mother. Perhaps if she had lived longer and I was able to have an adult relationship with her I might still think so. However, over the years I became aware how hard pressed I'd be not to admit how much I am also like my father. I clearly got the collecting gene from him. My mother was a minimalist and over and over again in our lives forced my sister Rhea and I to toss the bulk of our belongings each time we moved. At age six I have a clear memory of sitting in front of my dozen plus My Little Ponies all lined up next to each other, sobbing and conflicted, because Mom was limiting me to keeping only four for our move to Hawaii. I started collecting rocks and shells as far back as I can remember. My mother did collect a few things, like marbles and postcards, which I also started collecting. When Mom died it took us only a few days to go through her things, with Dad it will take a lot longer. I am a good mix of both my parents though, and while I have collections I keep them at a minimum and try and keep things that don't take up a ton of space. I few thinks I collect: I have a bowl of rocks from all over the world, matchbooks from outings and travels all in a jar, striped socks, children's books, and oven mitts from my travels.
What made me realize over the years how much like my father I am is funny little moments we had when our mutual but unusual interest collided. One example is our smooched penny collecting. My first memory of starting my collection of smooched pennies involves Dad. We were in San Francisco's China Town and I begged Dad for a smooched penny with a dragon on it. I was probably five or six. I have collected them ever since and will search each city I travel to for one, begging pennies off friends if I don't happen to have one. All my friends consider me a nut when I wait impatiently in line with all the 5 year old and their parents waiting to make my own smooched penny. No one has ever understood my fascination with them. Except Dad.
Several years ago on Dad's 50th birthday friends and family gathered on the Oregon Coast for a four day party over Thanksgiving. That event is a whole story itself but this story is about the penny collecting. We partied each night but took day trips during the day. One of those trips was to the Oregon Aquarium. Dad and I were in two separate groups that toured the park. I noticed right away several smooched penny machines of which I partook freely. Then, further into the park, I found a machine that smooched quarters and I thought my eyes might bug out. I didn't have enough change for the machine having used it on all the other smooched penny machines in the park. So, much to my groups amusement I broke off on my own to make the trip back to the gift store at the front of the park to get more change to walk all the way back in to get myself a couple smooched quarters. Well, on the way back I ran into my father who explained "Did you know they have a smooched quarter machine here!?!?! I'm going to get more change!" It wasn't till that moment I had any idea that Dad too collected those smooched pennies and my memory of him getting them for me in China Town all those years ago had been a mutual excitement, not just my own , and that there was a reason he had always indulged my request for them year after year.
Dad later told me he started his collection by leaving pennies on train tracks to get smooched. We both prefer having either new pennies smooched, or discolored aged pennies, since they look more interesting in their new form. We also prefer the hand crank machines rather than the ones that do all the smooching for you. This is just one example of the silly collecting spirit we both shared and our fascination with the smallest things. It is this kind of discoveries that gave me a better perspective of not just myself, but of the complex nature of my father.
Some of My Smooched Pennies
