At some point in my life, I stopped tossing change into wishing wells. That’s not a sweeping metaphor for blind belief or something like that – I literally just kind of stopped tossing change into wishing wells, mall fountains – anything like that.
And I’m not really sure why. I think that even as children, we get to a certain point where we acknowledge the low probability of your deepest desires boiling down to a grimy quarter in a filthy indoor fountain, but even after that point, we sort of just hold to the tradition. We toss change into the water more for the ideal of it all – for the romanticism – that wishful feeling as gumball money sinks below the surface.