Reflections on a Penny

There it was...lying among the gravel on the lake road. The penny. While taking Max for his morning walk, I spotted it, dirty and scratched. For most people, even kids, stooping down to pick up a penny seems utterly ridiculous. After all, what does one cent buy nowdays anyway? But for me, it has a whole new meaning. A penny found brings me an instant reflection of my Dad. I truly don't know when this habit started, nor why it began. It just has been a part of my make-up through the years. Don't get me wrong. Dad wasn't an over-bearing miser, and he never did preach to me to become a penny-pincher. Somehow there is an association with Dad and a penny for me. As I turn the penny over and over in my hands, memories of Dad pop up--things he did, stuff he said, the way he looked. And I know that all is right with my world. Dad has been dead for thirty-nine years, the same number of years as I have been married to Larry. Dad died six weeks before my marriage, so we sort of share the same anniversary. A penny popping up on the sidewalk, the driveway, the road means he's with me for a moment. I look at it as a superstition of sorts, I guess, but a found penny conjures happy thoughts. Six years ago (almost to this very day) my brother Ron passed away. I remember Katie and me took a walk outside while waiting for them to remove his body, and you know what? I found a penny and instantly knew Dad was taking Ronnie under his wings and I need not worry about him. Everything was going to be all right.
A month ago when Larry and I crossed the hospital parking lot for his extensive surgery that morning, I deliberately searched for a penny, but found none. All I could think of was that not finding a penny was a bad omen. As I sat in the waiting room, though, I realized that not finding it still made me think of Dad...and Ronnie...and Mom, so it was still OK. The effect was the same. Happy thoughts.

Fall in All Its Glory

Recently, my sister, Katie, turned "leaf" peeper on a visit to Vermont. When she shared her photos of the weekend excursion, I was jealous! It was only then that I took a long look around our own countryside. The fall colors were vibrant and alive with shades of orange, yellow, and red spilling across the landscape. Autumn had truly begun her Broadway show.



Our "humble" Illinois can definitely compete with the Vermont landscape. Mother Nature is disrobing the trees; leaves are falling and the wind is blowing. Our farm country is changing, the air crisper. I headed outdoors, camera and Max our dog in tow, to document Autumn's beauty. No matter where I went...hiking the trail at Hazlett Park, walking the dam, driving the streets of Carlyle...the scenes were popping with Fall's palette. It is a season of superb color effects, free for our enjoyment and entertainment. Right here in our own backyard! Hey, New Englanders, eat your heart out! We have the colors without the crowds!