A 100-year-old penny for Bridget will buy many stories

A penny for Bridget; I found it in my pocket change. It is no ordinary penny. It was minted back in 1911. The copper is tarnished and the features of Lincoln are nearly worn smooth. I could tell right away that it was old by the wheat design etched on the backside of it. A one-hundred-year-old penny; Bridget will like that.

She’ll take the penny from my hand and carefully examine it before rushing upstairs to tuck it away in her top dresser drawer. There it will rest in the small white box that holds a heart shaped necklace, a single glass marble, and the fancy wind-up wristwatch that she wheedled away from her grandmother; treasures of her childhood.

I’ll remind her that this little copper penny has been around since before the sinking of the ship, Titanic. I’ll tell her, “It may have even been carried by one of the surviving passengers on their journey back home to America.” Her eyes will widen with wonder. She’s a Titanic enthusiast.

“A passenger on the ship, Carpathia?” she’ll ask. “Do you really think so, dad?”

“It’s possible Bridget,” I’ll reply, “but back then this penny would have been shiny and new, unmarked by the years yet to come.”

World War I

I’ll explain that this little penny was circulated when the battles of World War I were still being fought in Europe. It was around when Charles Lindberg flew the Spirit of St. Louis across the cold Atlantic Ocean. And, it probably passed from hand to hand among the soup lines of the Great Depression in the 1930s. Perhaps it even rested on President Franklin Roosevelt’s bedroom bureau when he emptied his pant pockets at the end of the day.

“And you know Bridget”, I’ll say, “I’ll bet this penny was making its way to Youngstown when your grandfather was a young man fighting for the freedom of our nation in World War II, and just maybe it has been in our community ever since, waiting to make its way to you.”

An almost imperceptible smile of approval will light upon her face. “Is it valuable, dad?” she’ll ask, turning the coin over in her hand.

“There’s no gold in this penny, Bridget, but it is filled with the history of our country, and that’s worth something,” I’ll say. “Just think of the stories this little penny could tell if it could speak.” I’ll remember the Freedom Riders of the Civil Rights Movement; John Glenn’s flight into space; Neil Armstrong’s walk on the moon; the Vietnam War; the loss of a way of life when the steel mills closed on Black Monday; and the terrorist attack of Sept. 11.

“This little penny has seen both the good and bad that America has experienced in this last 100 years,” I’ll tell her, “And if it could speak, do you know what I think this penny would like to say most of all, Bridget?”

“Tell me, dad” she’ll reply.

I’ll respond, “I think this penny would say that America has always been at its best when its people work together for the common good, when men look beyond their own interests for the benefit of those less fortunate.”

She’ll close her hand around the worn and tarnished coin and then give me a hug. “Thanks, dad,” she’ll say.

A prayer

I’ll look after her as she leaves the room, and I’ll listen for the patter of her feet as she moves quickly up the stairway to her bedroom. Then I’ll say a little prayer that God watches over this nation of ours, because it could really use his help right now.

A prayer for my country, and a penny for my Bridget; I hope God blesses them both.

David Bobovnyik is a Youngstown lawyer and father of three daughters who works for the state. He enjoys sharing his thoujghts from time to time, especially around the holidays.