Re-posted from March 9, 2015
He smelled like Old Spice After Shave as long as I knew him. There was a time he wore Vitalis in his wavy brown hair. All the guys did. Elvis probably started it with his slick-black hair and sex appeal. I used to go to my father’s bedroom closet after he hung up his suit from a nine-hour day of demanding retail sales, supporting a family of six. I’d slip my childish hands into every pocket searching for a LifeSaver or two. If a half-opened roll of Reed’s Root Beer candies were discovered, I’d race back to my father’s chair and beg for “just one”. Being his only daughter, and the apple of his eye, he’d smile and say, “Sure, Snookie. Anything for my little girl.” Sometimes there would be a compact case of Sen-Sens in his coat pocket. I hated the taste of anise. Around that time everyone grew up watching Hollywood’s Rich and Famous glamorizing the lifestyle of a cigarette smoker. Sales were finalized when a cigarette was lit at the retail counter. Afterwards this tiny matchbox of black licorice and anise squares were the perfect breath mint popular in the 1960s. On occasion in my daily quest, I would come across my father’s easy-squeeze leather coin pouch. He said it kept loose change under control and saved the lining in his dress pants.  
Today I hold that weather-worn pouch and squeeze it open remembering my father. Inside are two pennies. One is a muted coppery Lincoln Wheat Penny dated 1930; the other is a bright shiny Union Shield version dated 2014. Pennies from Heaven, I call them, spanning the lifetime of my beloved father. Happy Birthday, Dad. Thinking of you today celebrating your first birthday in Heaven. “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart.” ~ Ecclesiastes 3:11.