Penny Chronicles–1938 / first 355 words

I am going to take a bold step and share a draft of the first page of my second novel here. At all the writing conferences I have attended, there is always a session where editors read the first page of a writer's manuscript and comment as to whether they would want to read further. If you can't grab them on page one, it does not matter how brilliantly written pages 54 and 112 may be! So, as I begin writing about my 1938 penny's journeys, I ask you, would you want to read more?

CHAPTER ONE

July 9, 1943

Glenn kicked the dirt, grunted, and then fell to his knees at the edge of the haystack. He hated his little sister. Well, maybe it wasn't hate. But at times like this he certainly did not like Gwen very much. He scooped up a handful of hay and picked through it. Nope, not here. He chucked it over his shoulder and then thrust his hand deep into the prickly pile.

He held up another fistful of hay and slowly opened his fingers, watching it rain to his knees. A round, brown object plunked his kneecap before hitting the ground. Finally. Glenn snatched it up, but as soon he touched it, he realized it was only a small stone. He tossed it over his shoulder.

"Ow!" came a voice from behind him.

Glenn closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Daddy!" the voice shrieked. "Glenn hit me in the eye!"

Glenn jumped to his feet and turned to face his curly blonde headed sister. "I didn't even know you was there," he said, his eyes burning a hole into Gwen's forehead. "You snuck up on me."

"Did not. You hit me on purpose."

"Ah, go back inside," he said, turning back to the haystack. "I can't be bothered with your whining. Gotta find that stupid thing before it gets dark."

"It ain't stupid. You are."

At this point, Glenn agreed with his sister, though he didn't let her know that. After all, if he'd been smart, he wouldn't be plucking through hay looking for a penny that bore the same date imprint of his sister's birth year: 1938. If he had it all to do over again, instead of actually throwing her coin in the haystack, he'd have only made her think he did. When Gwen tattled to their father, he would've shown it lying on the porch or near the tree swing and then swore his sister had left it there all along. Maybe she would have gotten in trouble this time. But probably not. She rarely got punished and it was especially unlikely to happen on her fifth birthday.

Hooper/Harlem penny pals

The fun just never ends around here! On Dec. 14, the 4th grade students in Mrs. Jen McQuitty's class in Hooper, CO, and their counterparts in Steve Bergen's computer class in Harlem, NY, shared what books they are reading with each other. Forty kids in all took turns stepping up to webcams in their classrooms with their books and reports in hand. They discovered that they like to read a lot of the same authors, play the same sports and some of them even have first names in common. Harlem's Dylan and Jasmine smiled broadly when they were introduced to Hooper's equally happy Dylan and Jasmine.

Even as their teachers signed-off, the kids' work was not finished. They'll be emailing book reports to each other, along with pictures of themselves. Of course, with me involved, there's a plan in the works to include pennies in their future correspondence. We're calling it Penny Pals. More to come on that.

Where did you see 73?

Louise saw the 1973 minted penny in her coin purse, so did Kelly; in fact Kelly saw two 73s when she dumped the contents of her wallet on her desk! Darryl found a 73 in a handful of change. A nurse in Alamosa freed three 73s from her husband's coin jar. Some Colorado fifth graders discovered a 73 lurking among the pennies they'd brought in for a school fundraiser. Texas fourth graders didn't know for sure which one of them gave a 73 a ride to school, but there it was in a pile of pennies turned in during my Penny Project presentation at their school in October.

I have seen a 73 in the "leave a penny take a penny" dish at convenient stores and restaurants. I take these 73s and but I always leave another year behind in their place. On an outing with my son to see a friend's musical at Buena Vista High School, I discovered a 73 along the ticket line. I immediately phoned my husband and told him, "You'll never guess what I found!" Of course he didn't have to guess because he already knew. "You found a 73. I can hear it in your voice," he replied.

All these 73s, and still, none of them profess to be the 73 I met years ago. This 73 had dropped into my palm as change in a drive-thru window at a fast food restaurant in East Texas. I'd noticed its mint date and wondered aloud where it had been during its years in circulation. Amazingly, it told me and I wrote what it spoke. But within months of capturing the tales of its journeys in my manuscript, "Penny Chronicles," I misplaced it!

Did I spend it at a store somewhere, toss it in a wishing well, drop it on a sidewalk, donate it to a penny fundraiser, lose it in a washing machine? I don't know. But I've been asking everyone I know everywhere I go: Where did you see 73?

(And for anyone wondering if I have lost my mind: Nope. Just my 73.)