Daddy & the wheat pennies......

My father fancied himself to be many things in his lifetime.......

Traveler......

Comedian....

Entrepreneur........

Stamp collector................

Coin collector...............

Dancer......................

..............and ventriloquist.

That last one was a crack-up. He used to talk with his lips pursed, kind of out of the side of his mouth...... and his lips moved...

Yes. They moved. He wasn't fooling anyone with that high squeaky voice he used.

And with his face all contorted so he could speak out of just the corners.....

Nope, didn't fool anyone......except Mother.

I don't know to this day is she was just humoring him or if, for some reason, she really did think some silly squeaky-voiced thing was talking to her as they drove around Glendale....

Anyway, the coin collector part was kinda in his own mind as well. He really only ever collected bent nickles, or weird-looking quarters with holes in them.

But his most prized coin-find was always the wheat penny.

He used to show them to me when I was a kid and always told me to look anytime someone gave me change. He said they didn't know that they were giving me something special in that wheat penny.....

So, if you can imagine, out of all the "life-lessons" he tried to teach me, guess which one stayed??

Yep. Wheat pennies.

Can't look at change in the same way anymore. I'm always looking for the elusive wheat penny....

And yesterday, while working the cash register at the expo for my company, when we were crazy-busy, someone gave me a wheat penny while paying for their purchase.

And yes.... I had to have it. Saved it. Put it right into my pocket. Actually, I think I stole it...............

note to self: give boss a penny for the till. Second note to self: make sure it's not a wheat penny.....

So this morning, as I type in my little blog, I know Daddy is smiling down on me, pleased that I have saved that wheat penny and that I have indeed learned some of the lessons he tried to teach me.

And, if anyone is around him, I'm just as certain he's saying something clever about the lessons he's taught me in his squeaky-voiced-face contorted-pursed-lipped-ventriloquist voice.

And he thinks he's great at it.

And so do I.

Miss you Daddy.

Me