This was written in 1970 when I was 10 and a dime was worth something. With this, my first piece of publicly performed writing, I advanced to the semi-finals of an oratory contest at my school. The next year I won third place in a school-wide art competition with an abstract painting. At time the judges viewed it, I'd decided it was a huge mistake and was in the process of wiping large amounts of paint off with rags.

As for the singing, I was in the school choir until the day I was singing a little tune around the house and my Matador Mom enthusiastically asked me to sing it again. I did and she squealed that it was the worst thing she'd ever heard. I shut up for a few years. The rest is history. -- Jean Smith

A Day In My Life As A Dime

by Jean Smith

Mr. Harper, the store keeper, gave the little boy ten bubble-gums and then put me into the cash register.

An old man came into the store for a box of cigars. Mr. Harper reached into the cash register. His hand was coming right for me but he picked up the dime next to me. Boy, was that a close call!

A few minutes later an old lady came into the store for a package of tea. Mr. Harper gave me to the old lady for change. She put me into her lacy little change purse. She then walked across the street and popped me into a pay phone. I overheard her telling Mable she had to get a box of chocolates for George.

I sat in the pay phone for hours and hours with lots of other money and occasionally another piece of money would join us. Then finally we heard the click of a key and we all tumbled out into a sack. We were taken to the bank. Soon after I had arrived, a man came in and wanted to change a dollar bill into dimes so the teller took me and nine other dimes and gave us to the man. The man put us in his pocket and drove to the airport. At the airport he pulled me out of his pocket and bought a package of Kleenex with me. The clerk put me into the cash register. In a few minutes the clerk pulled me out again and gave me to a little girl called Brenda Peterson who was on her way to Victoria. Brenda dropped me into her bright red purse. When the plane landed in Victoria Brenda met her Aunt Martha who took her to the wax museum. The man at the door of the wax museum finally went home. When he got home he gave me to his little boy for his allowance. The little boy immediately ran to the park and dropped me into the wishing well and there I lay on the cold, dark bottom of the well growing algae and turning green.

The end.