The Offering (Take a Penny, Leave a Penny)

At first, it was enough to just know where it was. Seeing it once or twice a day on my dresser reminded me both of the trip, and the penny’s potential. Finally, on the way out the door to another fishing trip, I put the penny into my pocket as a way to curry favor with the fishing gods. When I thought about where the penny had come from, I figured it might have a little bit of a fishing mojo after spending so much time in the lake. The trip was a success and the penny earned a permanent place in my pocket.

Over the next year, I dutifully moved the penny from pocket to pocket as I went about my life, making sure to keep it safe and close by for those moments when I needed a blast of luck. At times, I’d pull it out and flip it. Heads meant I was on the right track. Tails meant I needed to slow down. Other times, I’d fidget with it as I thought through a problem. Eventually, I could tell how my life was going based on how clean the penny was. A bright, shiny penny meant I’d been thinking a lot. A dull, grimy penny meant I wasn’t as worried about things. 

It was, as it turned out, a pretty great year. The twelve months that I held on to the penny weren’t always easy, but things were moving in a fantastic direction for my family and me. I know the penny wasn’t the cause of that luck. But I still attributed a good amount to it, just in case.

When I returned to Onaman Lake a year later, the penny came with me. For the most part, it was there because it was always in my pocket. But a part of me felt like I should return the penny to the lake, to give back what it had offered me over the preceding year. The closer I got to the return trip, the stronger the feeling became. The superstitious part of me knew that keeping the penny wasn’t an option. Real or not, you don’t tempt the gods. If nature offers you something, you respect the gift and give thanks. If you say you’re going to return it, you follow through. 

That thought followed me all week as I thought about what to do with the penny. I found the answer to my problem on the windowsill of the cabin. In the middle of a handful of change left by another guest was another American penny, this one from 1960. I would have preferred another 2023, but this was better. It was older and had acquired more experience than the one I had. It would do nicely as an offering. 

As I watched the older penny sail through the air, I thanked the lake for the year that had been and the one that was coming up. I’m almost 100% sure I would have been fine either way, but as an angler and a naturally superstitious person, I think it always pays to err on the side of caution. It costs so very little to give back, to honor the resource. Just about a cent in fact. 

You don’t tempt the old gods.