I hoard state quarters. I've stashed away about 70 of them since I moved to Des Moines six-and-a-half weeks ago. Yes, that's 10 a week I've tucked away.
Who know how many I have back in Reno, sorted alphabetically if I don't need them in one of those folders.
One more Maine and each child will have a set. Two more Maines after that one, well, let me know if you've got a real neat, geeky kid like me.
If I get Philadelphia-minted quarters of Montana, Hawaii and some other western state, then I'll have a P & a D for every state, too. And then there are the uncirculated sets still wrapped up and untouched.
Sometimes I spend one in a pinch. To feed a parking meter. Maybe if I'm really thirsty and the machine says, "Exact change required." Frequently I just go thirsty.
I know which quarter has a sailboat on it. Which one has George Washington on both sides. Which one commemorates a landmark which sadly has crumbled since the coin was minted.
It's because of Grandma and Grandpa, who drove us across the country every summer to visit my uncle in Seattle.
In little apothecary bottles, we'd collect a sample of dirt from each state through which we drove and, when we got home and school resumed, Grandma would take the bottles to show her first-grade class in a geography lesson.
We'd make lists of the rivers we crossed and baseball stadiums we passed. Any wonder I'm following Chris Apel's cross-country sports trek.
When I drove to Sioux Falls a week ago, I saw the signs for Wall Drug and the Corn Palace, regular stops each summer. They stick in my mind even more than the most famous South Dakota landmark and the one which graces the back of its quarter. Grandma once sent us a set of post cards from Rock City and you know, it always will mean Tennessee to me more than Graceland or the Opry.
I miss my Grandma. The quarters help me keep her close.
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