It was a simple request.
"Walker, while you are out, can you please swing by Lowe's with my water jug and hit the Coinstar and bring me back the money?"
"What?"
"Yes, just dump the coins and get the dollars."
"Mom, only homeless people do this."
"What?"
I remember the little money bag my mom made for my brother in ceramics. It was gold with some brushed brown on it to make it look old and weathered. It had a rope in the middle, cinched and the coins went down the hole.
We kept our "monies" there, our coins. When the Daily Juice Man came, we had our monies.
Later in life, my mom would pull change from her underwear drawer for milk money, Girl Scout dues and penny candy runs on the way to Girls Scouts at Kemer's.
We lived out of the underwear drawer and Todd's money bag.
Later in life, my change went for quarter draft night or stamps.
And then, after I was first married (to my first husband) I wanted new bedroom furniture.
He said, "count your change, see if there is enough in there." And guess what? $2500!
I paid cash for my bedroom furniture that I loved.
When I remarried, we started another change jar. We dumped in one night, my mom was here, and we dumped, counted and wrapped change, enough for Franklin and I to go to Aruba. It was a huge sum of cash in that old water jug.
A few years later, the jug paid for our annual trip to Vermont.
We loved the jug.
And now, here was my son looking at me like I was asking for a kidney.
Dump change and come home with dollar bills.
As this is this conversation is taking place, Franklin came home. Franklin was also stunned at Walker's reluctance.
"Seriously, only homeless and drug dealers wrap change."
Franklin was stunned.
"Walker, your Aunt Aussie has a shoe box on her dryer. You have seen it. She fills it with lose change. She says that she pays herself at the end of the year with that lose change."
And then it hit me.
Walker doesn't need change. He swipes a card. For everything. Absolutely everything.
He doesn't need coins for tolls, pay ones, parking, coffee, food, nothing. He needs change for nothing.
He never will.
He will never know the thrill of counting and wrapping coins and ending up with a tropical vacation for two. Or new bedroom furniture. Or a trip to Vermont.
He will also never know what it was like to call someone for hours with hot scoop and the line being busy over and over and over again and finally on the 54th call, they answer and it was so worth it.
Walker will never know the thrill of your dad breaking down and buying an extra-long phone cord so you could actually do a chore (wash dishes) while or talking or sneak into a nook for privacy.
His sister would never know how exciting it was to actually have a random sighting of your crush at the Dairy Queen without following him on SnapChat.
My kids would never know what it was like the first time a package was delivered to your door. Ever.
And my kids would never know what it was like to go Christmas shopping in a big, beautifully decorated Department Store, dressed in you Sunday best, eat with linen napkins and then Christmas Shop with hot chocolate (made with real milk and coca) at the end.
Coins were "not a thing" anymore. Calendars from the bank or electric company, on the side of the fridge, while once a necessity, now irrelevant.
We talked about it.
And he went. $350. Lowest amount ever.
Even we were not using coins as much as we once were.
Franklin and I vowed we would dump our change daily, which we have. Seven cents here, twenty cents there. Maybe the next dump will pay for funerals at that rate, kidding.
It just made me sad. I have even been guilty, and I promised myself I never would be, of using Venmo instead of a Hallmark and cash.
These times they are a changing.
