An untrue true story.
(First published on Substack – November 27, 2024)
There’s a moment in childhood when you’re invisible enough to eavesdrop but just aware enough to start piecing together adult conversations. That’s where I was when this story began.
One day, a friend of my parents came to visit. I was busy playing nearby, but their conversation caught my attention. It wasn’t the kind of talk you overheard every day. Slowly, I stopped what I was doing and started listening, trying not to be obvious.
Apparently, I wasn’t as subtle as I thought. Their conversation paused, and all eyes turned to me. Their friend was holding a one-dollar bill, pinched between his thumb and index finger, stretching it slightly as though it were a treasure.
“Come here,” he said, gesturing to me. “Take a look at this.”
I froze for a moment, caught eavesdropping, but there was something about the way he held that dollar that made me curious enough to walk over.
“Do you see this one-dollar bill?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled, not sure what he wanted me to notice. It was just a dollar.
“It’s just a dollar, right?” I said, trying to sound unimpressed.
He smiled, the kind of smile that said he knew something I didn’t. “Yes,” he said, “but this one is special.”
I tilted my head, still unimpressed. What could make a one-dollar bill special?
Without waiting for my response, he turned back to my parents and started telling his story.
“The first year of our business was a disaster,” he said. “My wife and I poured all our savings into it, and the money ran out faster than we ever imagined. Looking back, we were reckless. We kept going when we should have stopped. But we didn’t. And it was almost too late when things finally turned around.”
“When we brought home our first payout, my wife handed me this dollar. “‘Don’t ever spend this one,’ she said. ‘It’s not just money anymore. It’s a reminder—to believe in us, even when times are hard.’”
He looked down at the dollar in his hands, his eyes softening, as if he were reliving that moment. Back then, it was just a dollar to me. Now, I understand that it wasn’t. It wasn’t money. It was so much more—a gift filled with memories.
Years later, I was reminded of that moment when an unusual story made headlines. My social media feed, the radio, even the newspaper were all buzzing: a banana duct-taped to a canvas had sold for $6.2 million. Who pays so much for one banana?
I couldn’t help but think of my parents’ friend again. How much would people offer for his one-dollar bill? Would anyone pay for the story it carried? Probably not.
It struck me that you can add value to almost anything—bananas, art, even ideas. As they say, value lies in the eyes of the beholder. But money? Money remains what it is. A dollar stays a dollar, no matter what story it carries. I hope my parents’ friend still keeps that dollar close, untouched. To him, it wasn’t just a dollar—it was priceless.