Money Makes the World go Around

That Spouse o' Mine and I were driving on a turnpike a couple of weeks ago.  The end was near, and he turned to me and asked, "Do you have any change?"

Did I have any change?  I haven't carried change or any cash to peak of, in many, many months.

Some years ago, - but less than a decade ago, I was talking to my mother-in-law Louise, over tea in her kitchen in Australia.  She was concerned that she had been told that cash money would soon be a thing of the past in Australia, and that only cards would be available for shopping and banking and such.  I poo-poohed that.  No cash?  No bills?  You Aussies are daft.

A few days ago, as I was cleaning the kitchen counter, I spied a nickel by the teapot.  Hmmm.  I have no idea why or how that coin got there in the last 24 hours.  Interesting, and while I pondered what it was doing in our kitchen, my mind wandered, tripping down memory lane to some two+ decades ago, when we had a young daughter in ... probably First Grade.  It was Parent/Teacher Night.  That Spouse o' Mine and I were sitting in the classroom with daughter Gillian's teacher - someone whom I admired for her teaching methods.  She went through Gillian's "report", and then asked if we had any questions.  My go-to for this bit was always, "What are her strengths?  What is her weakness?"

Well.  Sweet Gillian apparently had trouble, age six or whatever, in counting change.  Money.  Cash.  The teacher pointed out that this kid had trouble with word problems involving $$$.  The teacher mentioned that beyond our home and the elementary school lay a mobile home park.  The teacher explained out that the kids who lived there were frequently sent to the corner shop (read: 7-11, Dara's, whatever), to purchase things for their parents.  Those students were street/money-wise, and our six-year-old was not.  The teacher suggested that we allow Gillian to make purchases in the future, to enable her to improve her coinage skills on her First Grade tests.  (My words, not her teacher's; her teacher was pretty awesome.)  I came away from that Parent-Teacher Night feeling a bit askance.

I like money, cash, coinage.  We have a (small) collection of such from around the world.  We keep it in case we need it for our next journey.  But now begs the question: would anyone take our paper slips of proven money?  I am guessing it may be a thing of the past.  Maybe wallpaper for the basement...

November Grey. And White-Headed. White-Tailed, as Well.

Here it is, mid-November.  Grey, with leaves raining down.  I love this season.  The deer are wreaking havoc on our roads.  With rutting season and all, the bucks are fearless in their chase of that perfect doe.  That, and fearful of that bow and rifle.  

All the plants I've hopes to over-winter are now indoors somewhere.  I love that so many rooms in the house are now filled with blooming geraniums.  Lucky me, that they all managed a final big ol' bloom in November.

Yesterday I was driving down the road and a really, REALLY large bird was flying towards my car.  It eclipsed the low afternoon sun, and so I couldn't discern what it was.  It seemed like it could have been a buzzard, but I thought to myself that they have already migrated south for the winter.  (i.e., our roadkill is just...roadkill till April.  No buzzards around to glean dead varmints off our roads this winter.)  Suddenly this seemingly giant bird swooped upwards, and landed on an electrical pole. 

Eagle!

BALD EAGLE!

GIANT-WINGSPANNED BALD EAGLE!

I don't see bald eagles that often, even though we live just a stone's throw from the Kansas River.  So, WOWEE!  I was excited to see one so up-close and wonderful.  

My impulse was to call Dad, and share this experience with him.  He would have thrilled at my report!

But, Dad passed four years ago, and my impulse was just that: 

An impulse, retrieving a wonderful emotion.  A synapse, of neurons communicating with each other.
 
Call it what we may, I had a moment of joy which I shared with my Dad. 

I can hear his voice, thrilling with my report.