The penny, the smallest and most familiar unit of American currency, passed quietly this year after more than two centuries in circulation. First introduced in 1793, it spent most of its life more recently tucked into pockets, jars, cup holders, and kitchen drawers, faithfully existing whether it was needed or not.
There was a time when the penny mattered. It was saved, counted, and occasionally argued over. Children learned math with it, and a hoppers bent down to pick it up. It once felt like something.
Over time, its role changed. The penny became less a unit of value and more a habit — handed back automatically, declined politely, or left behind without comment. Jars filled, and drawers closed. Decisions were postponed.
Recently, signs of its passing became harder to ignore. Banks began limiting availability, and businesses adjusted. Cashiers asked whether customers wanted their change rounded. The penny didn’t vanish suddenly; it simply stopped being practical.
Some have even marked the moment with ceremony. In Washington, D.C., a mock funeral was held, complete with mourners dressed as Abraham Lincoln — a fittingly American farewell for a coin that has long carried his likeness.
The penny leaves behind no great wealth, but plenty of evidence it was here: in cars, couches, and drawers no one opens anymore. Often ignored, sometimes resented, and rarely missed, but always recognizable.
It is survived by countless jars, a few nostalgic smiles, and a nation that finally decided it had enough change lying here and there.
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History may forget what the penny was worth, but not how long it lingered.