I’m standing at my kitchen table with my dad, the two of us hunched over a pile of copper-colored coins. We’d roll them up in paper tubes before taking them to the bank, the stacks tipping over if I breathed too hard.
Later, with my sisters, I’d keep an eye out for the heads-up pennies on the ground that meant good luck. If we found a tails-up one, we’d flip it over so the next person could get lucky instead.
I tossed pennies into fountains and wells while making wishes with my mom and, once I got to Tarleton, onto the Rudder statue before exams.
That’s why the news from Nov. 12 hit differently: the United States Mint produced its final batch of pennies, quietly ending a 232-year run. The last five even have small omega symbols, a subtle marker that collectors say could make them worth far more than one cent.
Despite all the nostalgia, the decision wasn’t shocking. A penny now costs more than four cents to make, and economists have been calling it inefficient for years. Most people barely use them, letting them pile up in cup holders, junk drawers and checkout donation boxes.
And honestly? They’re not wrong. Pennies slow down cash transactions. Businesses have argued for ages that rounding prices would save time and money. Plenty of other countries have already phased out their lowest-value coins without chaos.
But still… something about the penny makes me pause. Even people who roll their eyes at spare change have at least one memory tied to that little copper coin.
I put them in paper rolls as kids, listening to the clinks pile up. I learned to scan the sidewalk for a heads-up penny, just in case the universe was handing out a little good luck that day. And I tossed them into fountains or wells, whispering wishes I never admitted out loud.
And those weren’t the only rituals. People tucked pennies into birthday cards for luck, pressed them into scrapbooks to mark milestone years or taped one behind the first dollar they ever earned.
Weddings sometimes included a penny in the bride’s shoe for good fortune, and some folks kept a “lucky penny” tucked in a wallet for years. Even our language held onto them with sayings like, “A penny for your thoughts” and “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
Every now and then, I still get excited when I come across an old wheat penny. It feels like finding a small piece of history in the middle of an ordinary day. Nothing valuable, but still meaningful.
Those tiny things are part of why I hesitate to let the penny go. It’s never really been about the monetary worth, rather the little moments attached to it.
Even at Tarleton, pennies have carved out their own traditions. Students leave them at the Rudder statue before exams, hoping for good grades or maybe just good energy.
The Three Penny Triangle, an ever-present campus landmark, was born when students tucked newly minted pennies into the concrete while Alumni Island was being built.
These small rituals don’t necessarily make sense on paper, but they matter because they remind us that meaning doesn’t always come from value. It comes from habit, memory and the comfort of doing something generations before us also did.
So yes, retiring the penny makes perfect economic sense. It’s outdated, inefficient and more expensive to produce than it’s worth. But logic doesn’t erase the small, sentimental role it played in so many lives, including my own.
The end of the penny isn’t just about money. It’s the quiet ending of thousands of tiny rituals we shared without even realizing it.
And I think it’s okay to feel a little nostalgic about that.
Caroline Crain is a senior journalism major at Tarleton State University where she is the Editor-in-chief of the Texan News Service and J-TAC newspaper.
Source: Freepik.com