Penny Thoughts

Sometimes, I was jealous of my fourteen-year-old’s need for hearing aids. It would be so nice to possess the ability of shutting out all the terrible sounds with the flip of a switch.

Like the two years my oldest daughter wanted to play the violin in the orchestra and miraculously- or unfortunately- practiced. Every. Day.

Or when the card machine dinged loudly that my card had been declined at the front of a busy check out.

Or when my youngest whined an entire bus ride home because we were ‘riding the bus’, and had to carry ‘heavy bags’ of groceries after my car refused to start for the third time that week.

Now, I wish I had been able to claim deafness when the sound of my name being called messed up my already hectic schedule. That one word- Diana- summoned me begrudgingly into a one-sided conversation where I learned Mrs. Dubski, the nicest old lady on the cul-de-sac, had passed away and donated her home to a charity. Somehow, I ended up being voluntold that I would be cleaning out all the old lady’s personal items to donate elsewhere since the poor dear didn’t have any family. After all, I was reminded, I was the only one on the street who was at home all day.

Everyone knew Diana Garcia was a stay at home mom in this age of career-driven women. That didn’t mean I had any kind of free time. I had a house to clean, a mother with Alzheimer’s to visit in a care facility, three children to keep up with, not to mention audiology appointments to schedule and attend for the aforementioned son who had been born with only four percent hearing.

On top of that, I had to figure out how in the world we were going to be able to get him the cochlear implant he so badly wanted. Earlier that week, my husband and I were surprised when we received a cashier’s check for the staggering sum of twenty thousand dollars along with a note that it was to be used for Aaron’s cochlear implant.

It had been an inconceivably generous gift, except we still to come up with ten thousand more dollars to make it happen. It hurt to be so close because of an anonymous donor and yet still be unable to give our son what he wanted most: to just be a normal boy.

All these thoughts rushed through my head as I worked my way through the living room, kitchen and bathroom carrying a single garbage bag to fill with the items marked for donation. All three rooms hadn’t generated enough stuff to even fill up one bag and I wondered if Mrs. Dubski had been a minimalist or if money was as tight for her as it was for us.

I flicked on the light to the bedroom, my gaze taking in the bed, nightstand and dresser all in a second. I looked down at the half empty bag in my hand and realize I wouldn’t even need a second one.

Starting with the dresser, I take in the two pictures there. One of her and her husband when they couldn’t have been more than thirty and another of just her husband maybe a few years before he passed nearly a decade earlier. Next to the photos is the oldest coffee can I have ever seen with $3.87 in pennies littering the bottom. And in front of that was a worn black book.

Assuaging my idle curiosity, I picked up the book and flipped through the pages of a handwritten ledger.

2/13/2019 Kennedy smiled at me

2/13/2019 Aaron helped Mrs. N with her groceries

2/13/2019 Mr. P brought home flowers

The book was filled with dates going back to three years earlier and every day there were fifteen to twenty entries of things Mrs. Dubski must have noticed from her front window or porch. Or, looking further, things she could have read in the paper she still had delivered every day.

Was she keeping track of all our activities? Who kept a book like this?

Reading more of the entries, I noticed that Aaron popped up more often than just about any other single person.

7/28/2019 Aaron mowed Ms. H’s yard

8/2/2019 Aaron played football with the little neighbor kids

9/10/2019 Aaron waved hello to Mr. P.

10/7/2019 Aaron brought me cookies when he learned it was my birthday

Shocked, I kept skimming through this little book, mystified to learn more about my son and his proclivities than I had ever known before. He had always been kind to his sisters and didn’t argue much with me, which I had appreciated, but I had no idea his influence was so broad. How had he even learned about Mrs. Dubski’s birthday? She had been our neighbor for twelve years and I could not remember once ever asking or attempting to learn it.

Chastened to learn that my son was a better example for me than I was for him, I set the book down and got back to work cleaning out the dresser. In the bottom drawer, I discovered more of those black books but dating back to nearly thirty years before. My mind raced with the reasons for keeping those little books but when I unearthed a stack of journals in the bottom of the nightstand, I quickly sat down and began reading.

8 March 1956 Married the love of my life today. I cannot wait to start a family with him

12 April 1957 Doctor says it was another miscarriage and cautioned us about trying again. Elmer wants to adopt but I want to try once more.

23 November 1957 Says the pain is caused by a tumor on my ovaries. There aren’t many options. The only one that could save my life means I’ll never have children.

4 January 1958 Elmer lost his job since the company is going bankrupt. Still have medical bills to pay off

21 January 1958 Lost the house. Still unemployed. I’ve been looking for work as well.

12 February 1958 Uncle Teddy came to visit. Says I’m depressed which is why I’m losing so much weight. He sent Aunt Caroline to talk with me and she says the only way to beat this was to stop dwelling on the bad. Told me to spend five minutes each night writing down my blessings.

23 February 1961 It doesn’t feel like enough anymore. Rather than just writing my blessings, I am going to start counting them. Elmer suggested a penny jar so I could see how many good things there actually were.

19 October 1963 I had nearly $100 from my pennies. Elmer thinks I should use it for a new wardrobe. But Mrs. J. had another baby and I know she needs help with paying their rent. I think I’ll leave it on her doorstep.

I say back, gaping at the journal as I read further. This woman, who, as of a few days prior, had been nearly a complete stranger to me, was quickly becoming the Mother Theresa of the neighborhood.

I looked up at the can still sitting on the dresser with the three hundred pennies sitting there. And the black book which recorded every act of kindness Mrs. Dubski had every witnessed or read about or heard.

A sudden thought gripped me and I flipped to the last few entries of the most recent journal and found what I suspected.

27 August 2020 I don’t think I have much more time to wait before I can see my Elmer again. There’s a tiredness all the way down to my bones. I’ll have to send the money to the Garcia’s before I go. Don’t want to risk it getting lost. I just wish I had been able to get all the money they would need so that sweet boy could hear his sister sing. He has good parents. They’ll see he gets his ears fixed.

Tears streamed down my face. Love for this woman and her wonderful husband, for my considerate boy, and even for my neighbor for sending me here to discover these secrets filled my heart.

I couldn’t comprehend how she had done it. Even if it had been merely pennies, that was two million of them she would have saved to equal twenty-thousand dollars. Collecting in that old tetanus-risking tin, filling it up and emptying it time and time again, all so she could give my son, just some child who happened to live on her street, his hearing.

I collected the journals and all the little black books from the dresser and carefully carried them back to my house in the late evening air.

Maybe I did have problems. A lot of them. But that didn’t mean I had to live with some dark cloud over my head. One could always laugh or cry and crying required tissues which I couldn’t afford anyway. So, I might as well take it for what it was.

Inside my house, quiet as the rest of my family had already retired to bed, I pulled an old vase from the cupboard and placed it on the bookshelf in the front room. Digging into the bottom of my purse, I unearthed some loose change, flicking out the lint.

Then, with thoughts of my family, my recently deceased neighbor, and my pushy neighbor, I dropped six pennies into the bottom.