Brave Things



By Sunny B. Fry   

When my husband was young in California, he rode a motocross bicycle, jumping the hills and valleys around Grenada Hills.  One day, jumping a ditch, he saw a glint in the dirt and stopped to pick it up.  A gold coin -- which set a precedent for each of his sons, all of whom found treasures in ditches as they grew up (tools, a DVD, a video game, a craft-store bird I got as a Christmas present from my youngest).  He thought it was cool and stuck it in his top drawer, and it inspired him to start actually collecting coins, in some haphazard fashion -- wheat pennies and such.  But that gold coin remained his Treasure.

                Years later, when he realized coins had actual monetary value, he looked the coin up.  A gold half-eagle, of nice value.  Worth keeping around, for the same reasons probably everybody collects things.  He showed it off to me when we were dating, and after we were married, it hung out in a blue book of other coins in our bookshelf as a collector's piece, cool to have. 

                And then one day he looked at it more closely, and with the help of the Internet, discovered that it wasn't just a gold half-eagle, but a California gold half-eagle, a coin minted by the state of California for a very short period of time as California money.  The value increased commensurate with the rarity.  At the time we researched it, the coin was worth maybe $6,000.  We considered selling it, but it was nice just to have it sitting there, like a secret bank account.

                So we went on with our lives.  We took some risks, invested in some things, and in the back of our minds was that gold coin, and a small unbuildable piece of property my father gave us years ago.  We laughed that if we utterly failed and the world fell apart, we could sell the coin for enough to buy food and pitch a tent on the property.  It was like the ultimate backup plan -- so we could dare just a little more.

                The years pass.  We have three sons, discovering that they don't get any cheaper as they get older.  I finish a 4 year degree in 10 years.  We juggle schedules, live on the edge, worry about checking accounts and the utility bills, select cars based on whether we could afford them outright rather than assume payments and the insurance bills associated with payments, buy a starter home, start a couple of small businesses, find some land at a ridiculously low price and offer the owner more than he's asking because we know him and the price is too low, and build a small trade shop.  And my honey encouraged other people -- with every step, he'd encourage those who asked, telling them the benefits of working for themselves, of the satisfaction of making their own way in the world, and telling them they were absolutely capable of making it work.  As he'd been helped with advice from his previous landlord, my husband gave advice and encouragement to those who itched to move out on their own.

                But every decision scared me just a little bit.  And all along the way, we were tempted to sell that coin, because it would have made life immediately easier, but somehow that seemed like selling a birthright, selling the fallback.  At any given point in our lives, the money from that coin would have made a huge difference in our immediate circumstances -- but it would have eliminated our "last ditch" option.  Yeah, the coin was there, but if we could do it without selling the coin, we'd win -- we'd still have that fallback option.  So we never sold it.

                And then last year, a year after we'd bought the house we've always wanted, we decided we needed another bedroom.  And the kids had some financial needs.  My sweetheart did a little investigation and discovered that, with the increased price of gold, that coin was now worth over $30,000.  More than enough for a bedroom and all of our immediate family needs, without going to a bank at all.  He came home grinning proudly, announcing in a very secret way that he was going to solve all of our issues without borrowing a penny, leaving me wondering what he was up to.

                And then he came back home, chuckling, saying he'd been to a coin dealer to sell the coin.

                It's a fake.

                It's probably a coin made as a souvenir by some place in California to demonstrate the sort of coins California once made.  It doesn't have a whit of gold in it.  It's not a wonder he found it in a ditch -- it didn't have enough value for someone to care what happened to it. 

                But for many years, that coin was invaluable to us.  The coin gave us the courage to take risks, to stretch further than we thought we could, to scrimp and save and eat fish sticks so we didn't touch it, to pour our efforts into things that last and build value.  It didn't matter that it was literally worth nothing -- to us, in our ignorance, it was the safe harbor.  Not a nice cruise to the Bahamas or a new Lexus, but a fail-safe which said we'd be able to survive if we what we were trying to accomplish failed.  And I realized, finally, that we always had the ability to accomplish what we accomplished.  It was real.  The only thing false was the security we trusted, and our perception that we needed it. 

                I've ruminated over that coin a lot, particularly considering the economic environment.  People are scared, I know, and with reason -- things are uncertain, and everybody knows somebody who's wishing they could find a job.   But I keep thinking, too, about a scene I watched from the kitchen window when my oldest kids were very young.

                My oldest was afraid of ducking his head underwater.  My middle child swam like a fish from the time he first ever hit water.  So I'm watching my middle child toss a coin into the water of our little above-ground pool and encourage his older brother to go get it.  For a long time.  Encouraging, cajoling, nagging, teasing.  And then, finally, my oldest dives to the bottom to get the coin and comes back up, sputtering and gasping, and my middle son says -- as proud of him as any 5 year old could be of an older brother -- "See, Russell?  You can do it!  It feels great to do a brave thing!  You should do a brave thing every day!"

                Ain't that America?  That silly nation who thought some ideals were good things to base a country on?  That foolish group of people who thought maybe they could just take some risks -- and help others along the way?  I mean, isn't that who we are?

                People who take some risks, but are smart about your risks?  Who work like it depends on you; but trust like it depends on God (or the false security of a fake gold coin)?  Who eat fish sticks, if you have to?  Who help people along the way, because you have to live in the world you help create? 

                And most of all, who do a brave thing every day?

               

 

                Years later, when he realized coins had actual monetary value, he looked the coin up.  A gold half-eagle, of nice value.  Worth keeping around, for the same reasons probably everybody collects things.  He showed it off to me when we were dating, and after we were married, it hung out in a blue book of other coins in our bookshelf as a collector's piece, cool to have. 

                And then one day he looked at it more closely, and with the help of the Internet, discovered that it wasn't just a gold half-eagle, but a California gold half-eagle, a coin minted by the state of California for a very short period of time as California money.  The value increased commensurate with the rarity.  At the time we researched it, the coin was worth maybe $6,000.  We considered selling it, but it was nice just to have it sitting there, like a secret bank account.

                So we went on with our lives.  We took some risks, invested in some things, and in the back of our minds was that gold coin, and a small unbuildable piece of property my father gave us years ago.  We laughed that if we utterly failed and the world fell apart, we could sell the coin for enough to buy food and pitch a tent on the property.  It was like the ultimate backup plan -- so we could dare just a little more.

                The years pass.  We have three sons, discovering that they don't get any cheaper as they get older.  I finish a 4 year degree in 10 years.  We juggle schedules, live on the edge, worry about checking accounts and the utility bills, select cars based on whether we could afford them outright rather than assume payments and the insurance bills associated with payments, buy a starter home, start a couple of small businesses, find some land at a ridiculously low price and offer the owner more than he's asking because we know him and the price is too low, and build a small trade shop.  And my honey encouraged other people -- with every step, he'd encourage those who asked, telling them the benefits of working for themselves, of the satisfaction of making their own way in the world, and telling them they were absolutely capable of making it work.  As he'd been helped with advice from his previous landlord, my husband gave advice and encouragement to those who itched to move out on their own.

                But every decision scared me just a little bit.  And all along the way, we were tempted to sell that coin, because it would have made life immediately easier, but somehow that seemed like selling a birthright, selling the fallback.  At any given point in our lives, the money from that coin would have made a huge difference in our immediate circumstances -- but it would have eliminated our "last ditch" option.  Yeah, the coin was there, but if we could do it without selling the coin, we'd win -- we'd still have that fallback option.  So we never sold it.

                And then last year, a year after we'd bought the house we've always wanted, we decided we needed another bedroom.  And the kids had some financial needs.  My sweetheart did a little investigation and discovered that, with the increased price of gold, that coin was now worth over $30,000.  More than enough for a bedroom and all of our immediate family needs, without going to a bank at all.  He came home grinning proudly, announcing in a very secret way that he was going to solve all of our issues without borrowing a penny, leaving me wondering what he was up to.

                And then he came back home, chuckling, saying he'd been to a coin dealer to sell the coin.

                It's a fake.

                It's probably a coin made as a souvenir by some place in California to demonstrate the sort of coins California once made.  It doesn't have a whit of gold in it.  It's not a wonder he found it in a ditch -- it didn't have enough value for someone to care what happened to it. 

                But for many years, that coin was invaluable to us.  The coin gave us the courage to take risks, to stretch further than we thought we could, to scrimp and save and eat fish sticks so we didn't touch it, to pour our efforts into things that last and build value.  It didn't matter that it was literally worth nothing -- to us, in our ignorance, it was the safe harbor.  Not a nice cruise to the Bahamas or a new Lexus, but a fail-safe which said we'd be able to survive if we what we were trying to accomplish failed.  And I realized, finally, that we always had the ability to accomplish what we accomplished.  It was real.  The only thing false was the security we trusted, and our perception that we needed it. 

                I've ruminated over that coin a lot, particularly considering the economic environment.  People are scared, I know, and with reason -- things are uncertain, and everybody knows somebody who's wishing they could find a job.   But I keep thinking, too, about a scene I watched from the kitchen window when my oldest kids were very young.

                My oldest was afraid of ducking his head underwater.  My middle child swam like a fish from the time he first ever hit water.  So I'm watching my middle child toss a coin into the water of our little above-ground pool and encourage his older brother to go get it.  For a long time.  Encouraging, cajoling, nagging, teasing.  And then, finally, my oldest dives to the bottom to get the coin and comes back up, sputtering and gasping, and my middle son says -- as proud of him as any 5 year old could be of an older brother -- "See, Russell?  You can do it!  It feels great to do a brave thing!  You should do a brave thing every day!"

                Ain't that America?  That silly nation who thought some ideals were good things to base a country on?  That foolish group of people who thought maybe they could just take some risks -- and help others along the way?  I mean, isn't that who we are?

                People who take some risks, but are smart about your risks?  Who work like it depends on you; but trust like it depends on God (or the false security of a fake gold coin)?  Who eat fish sticks, if you have to?  Who help people along the way, because you have to live in the world you help create? 

                And most of all, who do a brave thing every day?