Because it’s summer vacation time, I wanted to share what it's like to go out in public with the Steinke Family.
But before I get started, I have a confession to make. Actually, I have a confession to make for my husband, Mark. He has an addiction, and I’m in denial.
It’s not what you think.
His compulsion teaches our children the value of money and allows our family to earn extra cash. It also promises to embarrass me in the process.
My husband is obsessed with picking up spare change.
There. I said it.
This behavior might seem normal. But it drives…me…crazy.
Last summer, we took our two sons to an amusement park. As we entered through its brightly colored gates, Mark furrowed his brow in concern. “It’s too clean here,” he grumbled. “I bet they sweep up change and throw it away.” However, the spotless environment posed no threat to a man who can find a penny lying incognito among decaying tree bark and dirty rocks.
That afternoon, Mark went to get a drink of water while I waited with the kids. Forty five minutes later, he had not returned. I recalled there was a snack area close to the water fountain, and suspected I could find him there. Sure enough, I spotted my six-foot-tall husband, hunkered down on his elbows. His cheek pressed to the ground, he peered under a soda machine, sweeping one arm out to feel for stray change.
This behavior invited puzzled looks from passers-by who instinctively scanned the area, thinking they could help Mark locate whatever he had lost. I quickly pushed the stroller over to the gift shop, suddenly interested in tiny overpriced pink ballet dresses neither of my boys would ever wear.
“Look!” he exclaimed, holding out his palm as he approached me. He brandished his prized booty, something black and chipped which faintly resembled a dime. “You did all of that for a dime?” I asked.
He grew indignant, and I felt a lecture coming on. “Money is money. Every little bit helps.” He marched off, ready for his next kill…possibly a wayward nickel under the order window of the apple fries stand.
I know there’s no way around it.
Every where we go, Mark’s eyes rove the landscape, his hawk-like vision searching for a glimmer of copper, a twinkle of silver. He never stops. He screeches to a halt at a traffic light to retrieve a penny in the crosswalk. He searches the grocery store, certain that a patron dropped a nickel in the dog food aisle.
Our nine year-old son has inherited his father’s passion for finding “free money” and implementing creative ways to capture lost coins.
During our family vacation in Oceanside, California, we decided to take a stroll on the pier. I was engaged in a lively conversation about dinner plans when I noticed they had been quiet for some time. That’s when I realized that I was walking by myself. I whirled around to spot them 20 yards behind me. Heads bent together over a plank, they were attempting to free a tattered quarter from its wooden confine.
Dissatisfied with their progress, my son scanned the area for an accomplice. I watched in horror as he picked up a stained, splintered Popsicle stick, and lodged it in a crack. Moments later, he and Mark gathered the quarter, as well as amused looks from people who probably wondered if they were just another sideshow on the pier.
While I never know what to expect when we go out in public, I admit Mark's coin fetish helps our finances. When I was pregnant, we set a goal to pay off my student loans before he was born. My last monthly loan payment - $80 - was paid from saving the change Mark found while scouring every parking lot, patch of grass and filthy public restroom.
Today, Mark drops his collected coins into the Money Bucket, a chipped ceramic mug residing on top of his desk. Every few weeks, he separates and wraps them into neat little rolls. Even if he only has one roll, he takes it to the bank. The bank teller may smirk as he plunks down one wrap of 50 pennies, but Mark doesn’t care.
My husband is obsessed with picking up spare change.
There. I said it.
This behavior might seem normal. But it drives…me…crazy.
Last summer, we took our two sons to an amusement park. As we entered through its brightly colored gates, Mark furrowed his brow in concern. “It’s too clean here,” he grumbled. “I bet they sweep up change and throw it away.” However, the spotless environment posed no threat to a man who can find a penny lying incognito among decaying tree bark and dirty rocks.
That afternoon, Mark went to get a drink of water while I waited with the kids. Forty five minutes later, he had not returned. I recalled there was a snack area close to the water fountain, and suspected I could find him there. Sure enough, I spotted my six-foot-tall husband, hunkered down on his elbows. His cheek pressed to the ground, he peered under a soda machine, sweeping one arm out to feel for stray change.
This behavior invited puzzled looks from passers-by who instinctively scanned the area, thinking they could help Mark locate whatever he had lost. I quickly pushed the stroller over to the gift shop, suddenly interested in tiny overpriced pink ballet dresses neither of my boys would ever wear.
“Look!” he exclaimed, holding out his palm as he approached me. He brandished his prized booty, something black and chipped which faintly resembled a dime. “You did all of that for a dime?” I asked.
He grew indignant, and I felt a lecture coming on. “Money is money. Every little bit helps.” He marched off, ready for his next kill…possibly a wayward nickel under the order window of the apple fries stand.
I know there’s no way around it.
Every where we go, Mark’s eyes rove the landscape, his hawk-like vision searching for a glimmer of copper, a twinkle of silver. He never stops. He screeches to a halt at a traffic light to retrieve a penny in the crosswalk. He searches the grocery store, certain that a patron dropped a nickel in the dog food aisle.
Our nine year-old son has inherited his father’s passion for finding “free money” and implementing creative ways to capture lost coins.
During our family vacation in Oceanside, California, we decided to take a stroll on the pier. I was engaged in a lively conversation about dinner plans when I noticed they had been quiet for some time. That’s when I realized that I was walking by myself. I whirled around to spot them 20 yards behind me. Heads bent together over a plank, they were attempting to free a tattered quarter from its wooden confine.
Dissatisfied with their progress, my son scanned the area for an accomplice. I watched in horror as he picked up a stained, splintered Popsicle stick, and lodged it in a crack. Moments later, he and Mark gathered the quarter, as well as amused looks from people who probably wondered if they were just another sideshow on the pier.
While I never know what to expect when we go out in public, I admit Mark's coin fetish helps our finances. When I was pregnant, we set a goal to pay off my student loans before he was born. My last monthly loan payment - $80 - was paid from saving the change Mark found while scouring every parking lot, patch of grass and filthy public restroom.
Today, Mark drops his collected coins into the Money Bucket, a chipped ceramic mug residing on top of his desk. Every few weeks, he separates and wraps them into neat little rolls. Even if he only has one roll, he takes it to the bank. The bank teller may smirk as he plunks down one wrap of 50 pennies, but Mark doesn’t care.
He’s just excited about the increase in our bank account.
Of course, some people think the only way to receive more money is through a pay raise or a winning lottery ticket. However, you can’t expect a windfall when you fling a loose penny in your pocket. In reality, you are throwing away the very thing you want most.
Through my husband, I have learned that money will come to me when I appreciate what I already have. Whether I have a dime or a dollar, my attitude toward money influences how much I receive. This means that financial abundance may happen one coin at a time. It’s still money, so I welcome it into my life.
During our last vacation, Mark found a grand total of $23.68 in change. Add that to another 51 weeks and you can see how our bank account expands each year.
I still cringe at the sight of Mark crouching behind a vending machine. At the same time, I marvel at his diligence to find the pennies needed for our next big purchase.
Of course, some people think the only way to receive more money is through a pay raise or a winning lottery ticket. However, you can’t expect a windfall when you fling a loose penny in your pocket. In reality, you are throwing away the very thing you want most.
Through my husband, I have learned that money will come to me when I appreciate what I already have. Whether I have a dime or a dollar, my attitude toward money influences how much I receive. This means that financial abundance may happen one coin at a time. It’s still money, so I welcome it into my life.
During our last vacation, Mark found a grand total of $23.68 in change. Add that to another 51 weeks and you can see how our bank account expands each year.
I still cringe at the sight of Mark crouching behind a vending machine. At the same time, I marvel at his diligence to find the pennies needed for our next big purchase.
3 comments:
Great story Tina! You definitely have a knack for writing. MAK
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Hi Tina! I really enjoyed your blog. I can't wait to read your next post! Love ya! Duck
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