Penny For Your Thoughts...

Olbrich Botanical Gardens have updated and upgraded through my nearly 55 years. New paths, plants, buildings and fountains. But I remember the old fountain.

The one with the wall where we would pretend we were tightrope walkers in a circus. Back when Luke and I had bendy knees and better balance. We could twirl and do tricks as we raced around. Dad searched his pockets to give us each a penny to make a wish. A dream that seemed so important at the time, but is long forgotten. Did it ever come true?

Does anyone make penny wishes anymore? Does anyone have a penny in their pocket?

Photo by Roman Manshin on Unsplash

When we sold Major Avenue, Eric and Mike hauled jars and vases and odd containers to the bank. All were full of coins my Dad had separated by type. The bank teller sighed, but said these are the normal findings in homes of the elderly.

Have those pennies appreciated now that they are not being produced? Perhaps I should have kept a Kennedy Dairy bottle of the once ubiquitous copper-colored zinc coins.

We asked our parents what happens to all the pennies we throw into the fountain to make our wishes. They said they were used to pay for the flowers.

Do today’s wishing wells and fountains have QR codes to ensure our dreams?

I turned five and started kindergarten the year of the bicentennial. I didn’t pay attention to the news back then, but I remember wearing red, white and blue shorts - SHORTS - to Mass in Olbrich Gardens.

Photo by iStrfry , Marcus on Unsplash

Mom and Dad set up their lawn chairs. Luke and I were on a blanket in front of their feet. Well, just me. Luke was two and climbed up onto Dad’s lap kicking me in the head as brothers do.

I have a vivid memory of the priests in their vestments. I remember Father making a comment about walking on water as he gestured to the fountain and all the grown-ups laughed, but my five year old brain didn’t really know why. I did know we weren’t allowed to throw pennies for wishes or do our tricks on the fountain wall that day.

I cannot begin to count the number of visits I’ve made to Olbrich Gardens: as a child with Mom, Dad and Luke, as a kid old enough to bike there with Teresa and search the fountain for tadpoles, as a teenager in love with my now husband searching for a secluded spot to smooch, as a mother trying to corral my chaotic kids, and now as a writer searching for solitude, memories and wishes.