“Penny saved is a penny earned” is a saying that people who are good at managing their finances believe to be true.
Otha Anders, a former teacher from Louisiana, had been collecting pennies for a very long time. It all started as a goal of collecting pennies he would find on the street, and it soon turned into a passion he couldn’t say no to. Over the course of 45 years, this man had managed to fill in 15 5-gallon jugs of change before he finally decided to cash the pennies in 2015 when his homeowner’s insurance stopped covering the collection.
Speaking of his achievement which left the clerks at the bank totally stunned, Anders told ABC News: “If I would see a penny when I’m gassing up, on the ground, or in a store, it would be a reminder to stop right there and say a prayer. I never failed to do that. That’s why they had so much value to me.
“I would never spend a penny,” he told USA Today. “I would break a dollar before giving up a penny.
“I wanted to fill five five-gallon water jugs. That was the goal, but I couldn’t stop. … If I hadn’t turned them in yesterday, I was not going to stop,” he said.
Everyone who knows Anders knew of his passion and his collection. Even the kids at the school where he worked. He would sometimes buy pennies from them, but he would never take, not even a single one, without paying for it.
“I never allowed anyone, not even my wife nor children, to give me pennies without being compensated,” he told USA Today. “I wanted the inner satisfaction that God and I acquired this collection.”
When he arrived at the Ruston Origin Bank in Ruston, Louisiana, the staff welcomed him in and were more than happy to assist him. For his stunning collection of pennies, Anders got $5,136.14.
Take a look at the video below to learn more about Anders and his collection.
I Incurred a $500 Fine When My Neighbor Falsely Accused My Son of Her Toddler’s Hallway Scribbles — I Couldn’t Let It Go
Caitlin often found herself informally supervising her neighbor Stacy’s young son, Nate, providing him some stability while his mom sought time for herself. However, when Nate decorated the hallway walls with doodles during Caitlin’s absence, she was unjustly slapped with a $500 fine. Determined to set things right, Caitlin devised a plan for retribution.
Stacy had become accustomed to letting her young son, Nate, roam the hallway as a play area.
“It’s safe, Caitlin,” she’d assure me. “Plus, it’s their version of outdoor play.”
She would then retreat behind her door, leaving Nate to his devices, often while she entertained guests.
“I just need some downtime,” she confessed to me once in the laundry room. “I’m a grown woman with needs, you know. Being a single mom, you must get it.”
I understood her need for personal space, but I could never imagine letting my own son, Jackson, wander the hallways alone. Despite our general familiarity with the neighbors, the corridors didn’t feel completely secure.
Jackson, slightly older than Nate, seemed concerned about the younger boy, who often loitered alone, clutching his tattered teddy bear.
“Mom,” Jackson would say during his playtime, “maybe we should invite him over.”
Grateful for my son’s compassion, I agreed. It was better to keep both children within sight, ensuring their safety.
Thus, we began having Nate over for snacks, toys, and movies—a simple arrangement that brought him noticeable joy.
“He mentioned he likes playing with others,” Jackson noted one day. “I don’t think his mom spends much time with him.”
And interestingly, Stacy hardly acknowledged this setup. Once she realized Nate was safe with us, she seemed to extend her leisure time even more.
Eventually, it became routine for Nate to knock on our door whenever his mother let him out.
“Hello,” he’d say, teddy in hand. “I’m here to play.”
However, one day, we were away at my parents’ house for my mom’s birthday.
“I hope Nate will be okay,” Jackson expressed concern as we drove.
“Oh, honey,” I responded. “His mom is there. She’s responsible for his safety too.”
Upon our return, we were greeted by hallway walls covered in childish drawings—a colorful chaos of stick figures and squiggles.
“Nate must have had fun,” I remarked, searching for my keys.
“Isn’t he going to be in trouble?” Jackson asked, eyeing the artwork.
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