My Grandma used to pick up pennies and other loose change that she would find, whether it be on the sidewalk, the street, in a shopping centre, or someone's house. She would pick it up, proclaim her good luck and then sock the coin away in a special spot in her change purse until she got home.
Then, when she got home, she would transfer her lucky pennies (or nickels, dimes and quarters) to a jar that she had on her shelf. She would save her findings for a whole year before donating them to her church.
I always saw this as kind of odd. A penny has very little value when you find it alone on the pavement. If I ever bothered to pick up a lucky penny I never treated it with the attention and care that she did. I would throw in the in the bottom of my purse where it would get lost forever, while she picked up her lucky pennies and transferred them to a special spot
with the intention to make the world a bit of a nicer place for someone else.
She did this for as long as I can remember, until her dementia got bad and she began to fade away.
Another thing she used to do was write down novelty license plate numbers and letters in a little book. I don't know why she did this. Perhaps the editor in her thought it was clever, or funny. Perhaps there was no real reason, and she just did it as a game for herself, to pass time when she was making her way from point A to point B in her little silver K-Car.
It was just one of the interesting things that she did.
I remember when I was a kid, if I would see a license plate that I thought she would like I would call her and let her know about it. She always rendered excitement, saying "Ohhhh! Let me get my book so I can write that down!"
Sometimes I wish I asked her why she did these things. Not so much to question her intentions, but rather to learn more about her.
She used to tell me when I was bored that I should open the newspaper and edit it.
"Look for the mistakes and circle them," she would tell me and sometimes show me her marked up paper. "Or find words that you don't know and look them up in the dictionary!"
She always had an idea of something we could do to squash boredom that would force us to pay attention and use our brains.
Of course she did the daily crossword, and she read Reader's Digest. She took up sculpting as a hobby later in life, and when she was able she would spent time at a shared rented studio on Clifton Street. She always had time to meet for lunch, or go shopping at The Bay, or to accept visitors into her apartment on Sargent Avenue.
There was always a tin of homemade cookies in the fridge, and canned fruit and Vegetable Thins crackers in the cupboard. Her place was always immaculate, and her outfit was always on point; tied together with a scarf, fashion jewelry, a blazer and makeup.
In hindsight, now that all I have left of her are some random things and faded memories, I wish I had bothered to ask her more about herself. I wish I had asked why she felt compelled to donate her lucky pennies, or how she ever came up with the idea to collect novelty license plate numbers in a book. I wish I knew if she actually liked editing the newspaper, or if it was just a way for her to pass time.
I can surmise that a lot it stemmed from being lonely, but that's just a best guess.
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