Updated: July 31, 2016
Originally Published: January 16, 2006
“The written word may be man’s greatest invention. It allows us to converse with the dead, the absent, and the unborn.” —Abraham Lincoln
It’s just a nickel, but this particular one in my palm is a 1905 edition, featuring a distinct V on the reverse—a Victory nickel. This coin is noticeably smaller and lighter than today’s five-cent pieces, its surface smooth from years of being exchanged, though it seems this specific coin has been hidden away for quite some time. It spent decades resting in a small white jar with a black lid, tucked away in a metal box at the residence of Ms. Sarah Thompson, near Oxford, Mississippi.
This nickel has traveled a long path, embodying the essence of Lincoln’s profound quote, which also serves as a guiding principle for our discussions here. A few weeks back, I penned a piece about my Chinese-American grandmother who lived for 65 years in a quaint Mississippi Delta town. I didn’t anticipate that many would read it, so it was a surprise when a few familiar faces from the Delta reached out—friends, classmates, and even some strangers. Among them was Sarah Thompson, who discovered my story online and shared a heartfelt email detailing her connection to my family.
She wrote: “My brother, James Thompson, forwarded your daughter’s article to me. When she mentioned the Chinese custom of placing a nickel at the cemetery, it stirred memories. My late brother, William, attended the funeral of your uncle and brought home a nickel. Our mother, Louise Thompson, kept that nickel for years. As I reminisced with James, we recalled that it was in a small white jar, and he specifically remembered it being a ‘Victory nickel.’
Sarah continued to explain how, when her mother moved in with her at the age of 87, she brought along a collection of keepsakes, including a metal box filled with important papers and a handful of coins. After our conversation, Sarah opened the box and discovered not just one, but four Victory nickels! Her first instinct was to send one to me. “If your daughter is interested, I’d be more than happy to share one.”
Just days later, on Christmas Day, my mom handed me an envelope with a festive card—Santa surrounded by a mountain of gifts. Inside was a note from Sarah, expressing her joy in passing the nickel to me. As I held the coin, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was the very one my family had placed in a small white envelope over six decades ago, while grappling with the pain of loss as they prepared for a boy’s funeral. There’s no way to determine if it’s the same nickel that Sarah’s brother took from the cemetery—the very resting place I visited just months prior, where I paid my respects to William’s grave. Regardless, what matters is the interconnectedness of our lives, how someone can carry memories forward so that we are not forgotten.
The significance of Tommie’s life and loss resonated deeply that day, prompting Michael to keep this memento close for years. It was cherished by his mother, and eventually, it found its way back to me through Sarah—a beautiful full circle moment. If you’re interested in more stories about family connections and memories, check out this fascinating post on family dynamics. And if you’re exploring the journey of parenthood, consider visiting IVF Babble for excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, this nickel represents not just a piece of currency, but a tangible connection across generations and the enduring bonds of family.
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