My love for such money comes from my mom. She used to dig through change just to find wheat pennies to hoard. She’d take her pop cans to the recycling center just to get paid in two dollar bills and fifty cent pieces. She never spent it. She’d tuck it all away, never to be used as currency again. After she died, my brother and I visited her safe deposit box at the bank, only to be greeted with a very large pile of two dollar bills tucked inside. That’s my mom!

I’ve personally never been one to collect money. It’s not exciting to me. That is, until after my mom passed. Since then, I have looked at every paper bill and every penny that’s touched my hand, turning them over to inspect type and date. If it’s an old bill or a wheatie, I’ve scooped it up and counted my lucky stars, imagining my mom’s smile at such a find! When we owned the candy store, I was fortunate enough to have a staff that accumulated wheaties for me, knowing the nostalgia behind such action. Today, my own “safe deposit box” is littered with little post it notes with wheaties scotch taped on top from the candy store crew. I have jars and jars of pennies-a tribute to my mom and a reminder of some very special collectors on my behalf.

When Jason and I decided to go on our last picking trip, I dropped a stack of the Halloween leftover two dollar bills in my purse. I thought it might be fun to give them out for small purchases and wish the people who I was giving them to good luck. I passed most of them out at the flea market, with great response. People still love two dollar bills! I even gave a few to a clerk at a small store. She saw them and replied that she loved two dollar bills but didn’t know where to put them in her register. “They don’t even have their own slot in the change drawer!”, she exclaimed. (That just goes to show, you don’t need to fit in to a defined space to be admired! Weird is good.)

I got rid of most of my stack before we headed home. What you see here is what I have left.

Well, that plus one more.

When Jason and I were driving through South Dakota, we passed by the cemetery where my mom is buried. Jason gave her grave a horn honk and a friendly “Hello, Marian!” as we cruised down the interstate. A tradition for us both while traveling through South Dakota, we stopped at the next town over to gas up. Jason was fueling and I ran inside to get us some road snacks. When I got to the counter, the gentleman told me my total of seven dollars and some odd cents. I pulled out a ten and handed it to him. He looked up from his register, smiled, and asked me, “You okay with a two dollar bill for change?”

My face said it all.

“Yes, yes sir!”

Weird that it happened like that.

But like I said, weird is good. 
Definitely good.