I am an inveterate lost-change-picker-upper who had my attitude changed by a Vietnamese lady on the streets of New Orleans.

John and I were on one of our road trips, and had, at a friend’s insistance, stopped to say “Hi!” to his mother in NOLA. She and her children came to the States at the end of the war as “boat people” (just sayin’, DT), and she retains her culture.

Mrs. Nguyen insisted on showing us around her neighborhood at the edge of the French Quarter. On our walk, I noticed a quarter on the sidewalk and bent to pick it up. Mrs. Nguyen was horrified and made me put it back.

I didn’t understand. I asked her why.

She told me it was bad luck and it should be left for beggers.

This had never occurred to me, but it made sense — the begger part, not the bad luck (although #karma) — and has changed my thinking.

But then I used to be a begger.

Well, I didn’t beg, but I was poor enough that I found my clothing in the trash and “liberated” fallen fruit and nuts from people’s yards when they weren’t looking.

My friends didn’t really understand how close I was shaving it.

A friend and I were strolling down the streets of Berkeley. He was gushing how he had just scored tickets to a tripple header concert at Candlestick Park: the Stones, George Thorogood and J. Geils. Then the big surprise…

“And I bought a ticket for you!”

He was so pleased. I hated to rain on his parade. “How much are they?” I asked.

“$20" (This was 1981. Good luck with that today.)

“I’m so sorry, Dave. I can’t afford that,” I glumly replied. “But I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I’m sure you can find someone who will buy the ticket.”

Just then, tumbeweeding ahead of us down the sidewalk, I saw what I thought was a dollar bill. I rushed forward, stomped it and gingerly removed my foot lest it scamper away. A twenty! Score!

I should have spent my windfall on food or rent, but, Deb-like, it seemed God’s way of treating me to the concert.

“I guess I’m going after all, Dave!”