The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside by a generous hand. But- and this is the point- who gets excited by a mere penny? But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days.
― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
A penny is a throw-away coin, one that can roll under the sofa, and no one stoops to retrieve it. A penny is an afterthought–the clerk pressing it in your hand as change. A penny is a nuisance, which, when multiplied, sits like dead weight in your change purse. A penny is a trifle, a scant teaspoon of hot fudge on your sundae, a descant without a melody. And yet. . .
What if a penny could literally make your day? What if you genuinely valued your pennies and thereby cultivated a healthy poverty that bought you a lifetime of days? Well, then, you might look at your bulging coin purse with new eyes, and you might mine the floor under the sofa for riches.
Like Dillard, I like the notion of healthy poverty. Too often, we think ourselves poor and lament the fact that we don’t have enough time, enough money, enough love, enough recognition, enough possessions. Poor, poor, poor! In our contest to keep up with the Joneses, we find our lives lacking. We believe that we are natives of scarcity, condemned to wander the land in want.
Claiming to be poor is one thing, but actually being poor is another, much more serious matter. According to the 2018 U.S. Census Bureau, 38.1 million Americans were classified as living in poverty, which for a household of four meant living on $25,465 annually. Worldwide, Action Against Hunger reports that 780 million people live in extreme poverty on less than $1.90 per person daily. Most of us Americans aren’t poor–not by a long shot. Even if we claim to use the term “poor” relatively, comparing ourselves to others in our income bracket who seem to have more, we must concede that we aren’t poor. And by doing so, we must understand that, ironically, it’s our unimpoverished living that often makes us unhealthy.
Generally speaking, we don’t experience genuine poverty, the likes of which we only read about or view on television. Our lives are often so full–of food, money, opportunities, possessions–that we suffer from all sorts of ailments, not the least of which is the inability and unwillingness to see the pennies in our lives. So if someone were to offer us guidance in cultivating a healthy poverty, we would probably turn them down, politely of course, and then roll our eyes as they left.
Dillard is on to something here, though. She’s not suggesting that we all pledge to live on less than $1.90 per day, but she is advocating that we live differently. That we live better lives as penny-lovers who find the small, ordinary things and moments of our lives as extraordianary day-makers.
I like this a lot. Sadly, I confess to many days during which I couldn’t be bothered to retrieve a missing penny–or to even notice that a penny was missing. But there were other glorious days during which the smallest, most ordinary things and moments literally made my day. My family and I lived a good portion of our early lives in the lower-middle class income bracket. I didn’t know this, though, because my parents lived in healthy poverty. They taught us the value of Sunday afternoon drives in the country (with no particular destination and no treat at the A & W), the value of thrift stores and used books, the value of evenings in lawn chairs as the fireflies came out, the value of conversations around the dinner table and Marcia’s Mess (my mom’s wonderful casserole which is as close to hamburger heaven as you can get). In short, they taught us to value pennies in all their forms, and because of this, I thought we were rich.
As I get older, I find that I have more time for and take more interest in the pennies that have been cast broadside by a generous hand. When I stop by the side of the road to examine a patch of bittersweet, my life is the richer for it. When I hear a word or phrase that is just right and make a mental note of it, my day brightens. When my grandson and I scout the yard for the best autumn leaves, I count my blessings. And when my granddaughter takes her brother’s hand as they walk home, my heart skips a beat. In the whole scheme of things, these things and moments are pennies. But they are pennies which buy a lifetime of days, days lived with purpose and joy, regardless of income bracket. These are days of heathy poverty.
Who gets excited by a mere penny? Dillard hopes that we will answer with a resounding, We do! For a moment, imagine an entire nation, an entire world of penny-lovers. Imagine people everywhere whose days are literally made by ordinary things and moments which make them smile and take pause or which stop them in their tracks and take their breath away. Imagine if healthy poverty was not just a generational fad–here today and gone tomorrow.
I can imagine it. Heaven knows that I lack the power to transform the entire world, but I can transform my own life. Which I intend to do, one penny at a time.
