I have a change machine.
The 1960's pink change machine sat in my grandparents garage for as long as I can remember. It was placed there after my grandfather sold his string of locally own coin-operated laundromats. I've always had an attraction to the change machine. As a child, I would ask what it was and why it was in the garage. It is a piece of machinery from a different time and place than myself. In my collection of personal memories, it has always taken at least a dollar to run a coin operated washing machine (that is when there were still coin operated machines. Most of the machines in my memory operated off of a debit card type system). I don't remember half-dollars ever being a comfortable form of common currency. And pink was never a cool color for anything (other than a baby girl's bedroom).
The change machine came into my possession a little over a year and a half ago. My grandmother was moving out of her house (which she had lived in for nearly 50 years. The last 20 of them by herself, since my grandfather's passing) into a much smaller one bedroom apartment. This was the beginning of a huge time of change for my family. There were lifetimes of memories, in the form of material possessions, stored in the house. The attic and closets were full of things that belonged in another era - 1940's Schwinn bicycle, a bedroom set from circa 1902, my mom and uncle's elementary school clothing, half-painted canvases begun and discarded by my mother, My grandmother's wedding dress from 1946, grandchildren's toys, crayon drawings created during my kindergarden years, photographs of great-grandchildren and so much more.
I asked my grandmother if I could have the change machine, she laughed at me and told me that if I could moved it, I could have it. Sounded like a challenge to me! I was able to move it - with the help of a lot of elbow grease and a dolly. The change machine was heavy. But sometimes, change is a burden you must bear; a weight that must be carried.
The change machine currently sits in my living room. It gets used as an end table/ interesting conversation piece. It reminds me of the ideals of my grandfather : work hard - your life's work is an opportunity to serve those who cross your path. The change machine has chipped paint and rust spots. It reminds me that change is inevitable. Sometimes it is thrust upon us. Other times, we must work to obtain change - Personal change being among the hardest change to obtain, for it is the hardest to calibrate.
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