The next day I found a dime in the Stewart’s parking lot, just barely glinting through the slush and dirt and heaven knows what all. I could see it had been run over a lot but old Franklin D. Roosevelt was still holding his own. I just read he’s been on the dime since 1948! This one’s from 2019; it hasn’t aged well.

But still, it worked!

Now, just watch, someone will comment that they just lost a dime fitting that description at Stewart’s.

This reminds me of when, years ago, my brother gave me a book titled, “Do What You Love, The Money Will Follow.” I figured I had it made. It was only a matter of time until I was rich.

As the weeks passed, however, I wondered: What was keeping the money? If it was following, it was certainly keeping a discreet distance. Maybe the money had taken the wrong turn.

I quit jogging, gradually slowing my pace to a crawl, in order to give the money a chance to overtake me, and developed a nervous habit of looking back over my shoulder every few seconds.

It was during this stage of my life that I began to notice the pennies. If, as the saying goes, the streets of heaven are paved with gold, then surely the streets and parking lots were paved with pennies. I never would have noticed the wealth of small change all around me had I been walking at a normal clip.

I still glance at my rearview mirror from time to time in hopes the money is gaining on me, but it never is. Sometimes I see a log truck barreling down state Route 73 about to run me off the road, or a police car with a flashing light driven by a trooper who wants to tell me that I have a tail light out or my inspection sticker is out of date.

“Do you know why I stopped you, ma’am?”

“It wouldn’t be about the money, would it?”

“No.”

Gone are the days when I expected the money to come pouring in at any minute, like Danae and the shower of gold in Greek mythology. On the other hand, there are more pennies underfoot than ever.

How many pennies go out of circulation, piling up inside people’s houses or languishing on the street where they fall? Few people old enough to have lost their first front teeth will stoop to pick up a penny.

I almost didn’t pick up that dime in Stewart’s parking lot; one cent isn’t enough anymore to warrant the expenditure of energy. Canada stopped making pennies in 2012.

There used to be a cent mark on my typewriter keyboard, but not on my laptop.

Some stores keep penny dishes so that customers don’t have to break a larger coin or bill. No one wants pennies back, and no one minds giving them away. These days you’ll see other small change, not just pennies.

No matter how poor you are, you can’t say you don’t have a penny to your name. How many pennies would you guess you have right now in your penny jar, in the bottom of your purse, on the dresser, in your coat pockets, on top of the washing machine, on the floor of your car? When you sweep the floor, do you throw away the pennies in the dust pan? When you see them on the carpet, do you vacuum them up? A penny makes a unique noise as it is hoovered into the machine, a loud, satisfying clatter.

When you see a penny, do you pick it up only if it is heads up, thereby qualifying as a lucky penny?

Why do so many of the things advertised online cost $19.99? What happens to the leftover penny? Are those the pennies you find littering the streets?

After the snow has melted, it will be easy to find coins.

Meanwhile, I’ll just keep doing what I love.The money is taking its own sweet time catching up, but at least I’m having fun while I wait.

Have a good week.

(Martha Allen, of Keene Valley, has been writing for the News since 1996.)