I came across a one dollar bill lying directly in front of me on the sidewalk during my daily walk. It fluttered provocatively, like a butterfly during mating season, seducing me to stuff it into my pocket before the former owner noticed its absence.
As I weighed my decision whether to pick it up, I pondered just how much this single dollar bill was really worth. Was the dollar’s loser laying a trap for me, tempting me to steal his greenback? Was I being secretly filmed for the inaugural television episode of “True Mysteries: Who Would Steal a One Dollar Bill”?
So what is the significance of a mere one dollar bill?
Some months ago (my blog dated September 17, 2010), I reported that I had testified on behalf of a two-strike offender, on trial for committing his “third strike” offense, which carried with it a possible life sentence. At 40 years old, some would argue that he should have known better than to steal a backpack from a 99 Cent store, and when confronted, assault the security guard with a substance from a spray can in his pocket. That $1 backpack theft earned him a 30-year sentence, without the possibility of parole. A single one dollar bill could have bought him 30 years of his life.
If I were still a child growing up in Germany, the country where gummy bears originated, the German equivalent of a $1 bill would buy me precisely 400 of these miraculously scrumptious gastronomical delights. The mere thought of these treats would start my salivary glands a-tingling, prompting me to jump onto my three-speed bicycle and sprint to the next village, where the matron tending the store (she knew me well) would dutifully count out: “Eins, zwei, drei, vier…” all the way to 400, while I watched, to be sure she didn’t cheat me out of even one tiny fructose delicacy.
If I had invested a single $1 bill each day for four decades at 7% compound interest, I would have created wealth of more than $80,000 for myself, a gain of $65,500 in interest alone. Too bad I didn’t manage to do that. Alas! My retirement plans are still in tatters.
I recall the $20 bill I came across nearly two years ago, within a few blocks of here. Now that was a find—a miracle!
But what to do with this solitary $1 bill? How could I best honor this unexpected $1 windfall from an unknown donor?
Over the years, inflation alone has rendered it nearly worthless. Or has it? I considered my remaining choices. I could—
–search for the owner, but that would be in vain, I surmised; don’t be ridiculous.
–give it to a needy person, but it likely would be spent on booze. Nah, not on my watch!
–give it to charity. Get real! Their administrative costs would eat up all but a few pennies.
Only one option remained that might revive the value of my anemic dollar bill. With bill in hand, I quickly covered the several blocks to my destination, strode into the establishment, plopped down my $1 bill on the counter, and confidently ordered, “One Mega-Millions lottery ticket, please!”