The things we treasure are rarely of any true value. And we all know it. We just can’t seem to help doing it anyway.

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“See a penny, pick it up.
All day long, you’ll have good luck.”

I am almost embarrassed to admit I’ve spent my whole live abiding that ridiculous bit of fortune-telling. I pick up pennies from the sidewalk superstitiously.

And because it aligns with other bits of wisdom, like “every penny counts” I just do it. I am honestly not sure if I’m doing it “just in case” or if it’s a bit of “free money”. Probably a bit of both.

Pennies make for a fascinating bit of reflection on treasure. Because they are, at once, a bit of trash (and therefore worthless) that is literally thrown away and forgotten. And yet they are also hoarded, saved, pinched, or otherwise accumulated to save for the impossible.

If we so easily assign such differing values to a penny, how much weight do we ascribe the stuff we truly treasure?