Two Cents’ Worth Won’t Buy a Plugged Nickel Anymore : Pennies: No one hands over a thought for so little, and even kids won’t stoop to pick one up.

Find a penny, pick it up, all the day you’ll have good luck.

Why, that old saw isn’t worth a red cent. I’ve been picking up pennies all the days for years, and my luck hasn’t changed, unless you think being knee-deep in pennies is lucky. As a kid, I could have exchanged this hoard for a lifetime supply of suckers and gum. I could have bought enough penny nails to build a treehouse.

In today’s economy, a gallon of pennies and a dime won’t even buy me a cup of coffee. I’ve tried, and lugging an industrial-size mayonnaise jar full of change to coffee house after coffee house is no picnic.

And take wishing wells. Americans have always had a compulsion to toss coins into standing bodies of water. Well, the layer of pennies in public fountains is not only deeper than it used to be, a growing silvery gleam of nickels, dimes and quarters can be seen amid the greening underwater copper. Even our wishes face inflation. Before you know it, we’ll be throwing dollar bills into stagnant pools.

Enter any corner store. You’ll find mounds of pennies by the cash register, with a hand-written sign urging us to leave one, pick one up. Consumer and merchant can no longer tolerate the penny-ante business of penny dispersion.

This sudden proliferation of pennies indicates not an embarrassment of riches but actual personal embarrassment, like having lice, mice or roaches. Even as pennies pop up everywhere, their status as legal currency has never been lower. And the country is taking steps to exterminate all cents. Some stores now program checkout scanners to “round up” totals, turning pennies into a nickel, seven cents into a dime, the intention being to make merchants’ bookkeeping easier and the consumer’s pocket lighter.

It looks like the penny’s days are numbered. The last time it rained pennies from heaven was the Great Depression. Now, the rain has to be composed of thousand-dollar-bill droplets before we’ll deign to sing in it. Small children, bright as a penny, would once recite a verse for Grandma and get a penny. Piggy banks bulged! Literacy rates soared! Today’s children are shifty-eyed and stoop-shouldered. If they condescend to memorize a verse for Grandma, they won’t settle for anything less than 10 bucks.

In these arrogant times, there’s no room for the humble penny; even beggars sneer at them. A pocket full of pennies is only a child’s idea of wealth. When you’re grown up, you want empty pockets. Empty pockets mean you’re so rich you don’t need to carry money. It just spoils the lines of your suit. You have a credit line. You have people to buy things for you.

The vulgar exchange of cash for a service or product is just not done in higher circles--or it’s done discreetly. The finer restaurants, for example, always present their bills in leather folders, to disguise the fact that a transaction is taking place. One doesn’t violate this discretion by cramming the folder full of pennies.

And yet our self-esteem remains low. A thought’s worth only a penny, an opinion two cents. How American--a thought worth half of a thoughtless opinion. We’ve pinched pennies into nonexistence as we drool over the fin, the sawbuck, the Grant. We’re chumps and broke to boot, yet too proud to be bothered with chump change.