Below is one of Anthony's short stories called "Wheat Penny"


Johnny tugged at my suit coat while wiping his nose on the sleeve of his other arm. He looked awkward in his church clothes, his shirt was half pulled out of his pants and dust had collected at his knees from crawling underneath the pews. “Is this where you met Grandma?” he asked.

Looking down at my grandson, I replied with a soft smile, “Why, yes it is.”

Reflecting back all those years ago, I pointed towards the end of the first pew. “I was sitting right over there when Susan sat down next to me. We were your age and it was the first day of Sunday School at this new church.”

Johnny turned to his mother and announced, “Grandma and Grandpa are older than this church.”

She ignored his sudden realization and continued talking to Johnny’s father.

“Truth be known,” I replied to the young Einstein. “We were the first group of students here. And I don’t know if it was the smell of newly stained wood or the light glistening through the crystal clear windows, but the moment I saw her I knew she was the one.”

“The one what?”

“The one for me. The one who I would marry,” I answered.

“What did she say when you told her you wanted to marry her?” Johnny said, giggling just at the thought of asking a girl such a thing.

“Oh, I wasn’t so brash,” I replied while lifting my two-year old granddaughter up off the ground to prevent her from getting her dress dirty. After dusting her dress off, I propped her onto my hip as she played with one of Susan’s old necklaces.

“You see, son, when I was young we didn’t have video games and TV. We had hobbies when we weren’t doing chores. Mine was a coin collection which my grandfather helped me start by giving me a wheat penny made the year he was born. That 1880 penny was the first of many coins, but it always remained as my favorite because it was the one he had given me.”

“He’s really old,” Johnny informed me.

“That’s what I thought when I was young. But he was about my age.”

Johnny arched his head back and cupped his hands near his mouth as though he wanted to tell me a secret. Leaning down I heard him whisper, “Grandpa, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you are old.”

Grinning at his young view of the world, I continued my story. “Well, when I returned to church the following Sunday for school, I brought with me my grandfather’s 1880 wheat penny. I gave her this treasure in hopes that she would be mine for life.”

“What did she spend the money on?”

“Nothing,” I answered, while nodding politely at friends entering the church. “She gave it back to me the following Sunday.”

Johnny’s face twisted at my answer. “She didn’t want it?”

Patting his shoulder, I explained, “She gave it back to me and told me that it was very nice, but it wasn’t enough money for us to take a trip to Paris. If I wanted her to wait until I had enough money for the trip, all I had to do was return the penny as a token for my promise to take her there.”

“Paris?” the youth asked.

“Susan’s mother had told her that Paris was the most beautiful place in the world, so she wanted to visit it with the man she married and spent her life with.” I shook a few hands as the church filled with neighbors. “So, the next week when I saw her I gave her the penny back. She in return gave it back to me the following week with the same answer.”

“Did you try a five dollar bill, grandpa? Girls like paper money.”

I laughed out loud, drawing unwanted attention to myself. “It wasn’t about the amount of money. It was about the promise I gave her by handing the wheat coin back to her month after month, year after year.”

“I would have lost it,” Johnny said. “Or my mom would have taken it out of my pants when she does laundry. I lose more things that way.”

“No, I never lost it. It became a symbol of our love in high school. Every time I gave it to her, she knew we were still in love and planning to travel to Paris. Every time she gave it back to me she freed me of any bond or commitment to her. I always gave it back.”

“Always?”

“Always,” I replied.

Bending down to pick up the necklace which my restless granddaughter dropped, I then stood up and handed her and her toy to my son with a nod that it was time for him to take her.

“Even on our wedding day,” I continued. “She gave it back to me the night before the wedding, just in case I had second thoughts. As part of my wedding vows I handed her the penny yet again.”

“Did you go to Paris on your honeymoon?”

“No, we quickly became busy with family and work. School functions and living expenses took over our lives. There never seemed to be the right time to take a trip,” I answered. “But every morning she gave the penny back to me, and every evening after work I returned it to her.”

Looking down at my wife Susan, as she lay in her casket, I smiled upon her gracefully aged face. My children and grandchild stood at my side as they thanked guests for attending. “I’m sorry we never saw the beauty of Paris,” I said to my love as I placed the wheat penny in her hand one last time.

I looked at our children, grandchildren, and all of her friends who had come to say goodbye. I smiled and added, “But we did find a beauty here that rivals any other.”