Living Penniless

One of the nice things about shopping in Oz is the way they’ve eliminated the need for pennies. Here’s what I mean:



Rounding…a simple grade school concept given a noble duty of lightening everyone’s load. In Australia, they simply round up or down to the nearest 5 cents.

It’s not that I’m a penny-hater. Absolutely not. I grew up loving pennies in the US; not only because they were free money I could scavenge from my brother’s bedroom floor, but also because of what’s, or I should say, who's imprinted on them.

Before there was Michael Jackson or Michael Jordan, my first childhood crush was Abraham Lincoln… probably the first clue to my family that I was odd. I was born in the “Land of Lincoln,” learned about him in grade school (when I thought it was dreamily awesome that he freed the slaves; whether for political reasons or not -- I was too young to care -- still don’t) went to the budget movie theater in downtown Belleville named after him, knew that various local schools and streets were given his name, and several family trips were made so I could visit his grave in Springfield, Illinois. Creepy to some…I know.

But even though I have this affinity for the coin, I understand its burdensome quality. It seems that the men in my life, from my brother to my husband, hate pennies and refuse to use them. I’m the type of person to toss in a few pennies during a sale transaction to reduce the change I get back. But not my husband, no, not even to save himself from getting 97 cents back in change. I will even purposely pad my wallet with his discarded pennies so that I’m never in that situation.

But I don't have to worry about that anymore. It’s actually nice to not have a wallet that feels like a lead brick. I would even advocate for its elimination in the US. After all, I can still swoon over the 5 note.