by Wendy Mages
“Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you have good luck.” I tend to find a lot of pennies and I like to think it’s because I’m lucky. After all, finding money on the ground is lucky, right? Here’s the rub; I’ve studied Psychology. So, I know the difference between logical thinking and magical thinking. I probably find the pennies because I’m a bit of a klutz, and I probably look at the ground more than other people, just to make sure I’m not going to trip over a crack in the sidewalk. But it’s fun to indulge in a little magical thinking from time to time.
Now, my magical thinking has its limits. Some people say that when you find a coin on the ground, it’s a sign from loved ones who have passed away and who are now sending you messages from heaven. I have no trouble believing I’m lucky, but “pennies from heaven” seems a little far-fetched. I mean, how is this supposed to work? Do the spirits up in heaven have a coin jar, so they can just reach into the jar, pick out a penny, and drop it to send a message? If they’re dropping pennies from heaven, why don’t we ever see them falling? And what if a penny hit someone in the head? Now, that wouldn’t be lucky at all!
A few summers ago, I needed all of the luck I could get. My 93-year-old mother had been in and out of the hospital and, just as she was finally recovering from one medical problem, something else would go wrong and she’d be back in the hospital. Then, quite unexpectedly, she passed away. I know what you’re thinking, “At 93 you cannot unexpectedly pass away.” But I truly believed she’d live to be 100, like Uncle Harry. And if she didn’t make it to 100, I was convinced she’d at least make it to Gabey’s bar mitzvah.
When Gabey’s parents, Linda and Steve, were newlyweds, they moved into the apartment across the hall from my mother. They started off as neighbors, but quickly became part of our family. My mom met Gabey when Linda and Steve brought him home from the hospital. My mom adored Gabey. She went to all of his piano recitals and she was his “special person” at his school’s “Special Person’s Day.” My mom loved life, she loved parties, and she loved Gabey. She would have done anything in her power to attend his bar mitzvah, but it wasn’t to be.
On the morning of my mom’s funeral, I woke up heartbroken and totally overwhelmed. I just needed to walk to clear my head. I was out walking the city streets of Chicago, past the Barnes and Noble, past the Starbucks. Just as I was passing the loading dock of the brand-new, super-sized Jewel grocery store, I saw it. Not a coin, but a neatly stacked tower of coins: quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies. I looked around to see who might have left them there, but there wasn’t a soul to be seen. So, I picked up the stack of coins and thought, “Okay, I’ll give these coins to the first person who asks for spare change.” In the city, there’s always someone asking for spare change. But that morning, there was no one. This stack of coins seemed destined for me.
I don’t do loss well. So, my mom’s funeral was really hard. The holidays were hard. But my mom’s birthday was particularly hard.
It had become our tradition for my mom and me to celebrate her birthday together in Florida. When my mom turned 93, I flew down to Florida from the New York area, where I’ve been living, and we spent a long weekend together, celebrating her birthday. We went shopping. We went to the symphony and the movies, and we ate at all of our favorite restaurants. But now she’s gone, and her absence is palpable.
On what would have been my mom’s 94th birthday weekend, Gabey’s parents, Linda and Steve, were visiting New York City and invited me to join them for brunch. We went to Tavern on the Green in Central Park. Linda and Steve shared an order of potato pancakes and reminisced about how my mom used to help Linda make Hanukah latkes.
It was a beautiful sunny day. The restaurant was elegant and lovely. The food was delicious. And we were celebrating my mom and her birthday, and wishing she could be there with us. As we were leaving the restaurant, I looked down and there, glistening up at me, was a very bright, very shiny, brand new penny. “Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you have good luck.” I know. Its magical thinking, but….
“Thank you Mom!”
Wendy K. Mages, a Professor at Mercy College, is a storyteller and educator who earned a master’s and doctorate in Human Development and Psychology at the Harvard Graduate School of Education and a master’s in Theatre at Northwestern University. As a complement to her research on the effect of the arts on learning and development, she performs original stories at storytelling events and festivals in the US and abroad. Her stories appear in literary publications, such as 3cents Magazine, Antithesis Journal Blog, Five Minutes, Funny Pearls, Harpy Hybrid Review, Hearth & Coffin, The Journal of Stories in Science, New Croton Review, Potato Soup Journal, Quibble, Route 7 Review, Star 82 Review, and Young Ravens Review. A triptych of her poems appears in Scenario. To learn more about her work, please visit https://www.mercy.edu/directory/wendy-mages