I believe that heads up pennies are lucky. But only heads up. If I find a tails up penny, I’ll stop. But I won’t pick it up. I’ll simply flip it over and leave it for the next person to find. We all have to make our own luck in this world.
I want to know who made up the idea of luck. I mean, think about it. Some idiot had to come up with the idea that a heads up penny, but not a tails up one, was lucky. Or that a bird shitting on you was lucky. Or that walking through the path of a black cat is unlucky. Was it all the Irish? Stemming from finding a four leaf clover to rainbows and gold? No matter who it was, it stuck.
It stuck because we all need something to believe in. Some of us turn to religion, devoutly sitting in pews, chanting prayers, feeling like better people walking out of whatever temple, church, or mosque we chose. Some of us turn to wishing, believing that making a wish on 11:11 or on a fallen eyelash will solve our deepest wants.
And yet some of us still just leave it to a heads up penny sitting on a dirty sidewalk to turn the day around.