All collectors have rituals. We take on the role of museum curator and apply specific skills in the care and feeding of our coins. When a coin is transformed from the mundane to the marvelous, the demand for special care becomes acute. However, the necromancer recognizes that each coin plays a unique role in the collection; therefore each coin will be treated differently. Confused? This will become clear over time: Read on, some of the answer is here (and some to come later).
I find it fascinating to watch this transformation take place. Go to a coin show and watch. One minute the collector is thumbing through a box of so-called "junk" coins looking for something special. The coins are shoveled this way and that. Picked up with a fat thumb. Often, they are stacked and re-stacked outside the box and rudely tossed back in when rejected. But once a coin is selected -- the instant the coin is selected -- the collector's attitude changes. The coin is carefully placed to the side, not tossed, or slid on the countertop, but gently lifted and removed from the rest.
Later, when the coin is brought home, it is studied. Then, a decision is made on how to store it. Most often, a holder is retrieved, and the coin is placed in it. Some coins are gently brushed clean. Other are left dirty. It all depends on the role that the coin will play in the collection. Then comes the paperwork: a label is made, or an entry is logged.
The coin has become marvelous now that it has been selected for the collection and integrated into it. Yesterday the coin was in a "junk" box; today it is marvelous. It has been transformed by the collector and that has made all the difference. Henceforth, the coin becomes the focus of a well-honed set of rituals that includes proper handling and an attitude of reverence. Even coins that were purchased as "touch" pieces are treated in a special way.
As you can see, the question of whether or not a coin is marvelous is relative. It is defined by the collector, not the dealer, not the guidebook, not by rarity ratings, not by demand.
Unfortunately, the coin marketplace is unforgiving. Take slabbed coins for instance (a development that the necromancer abhors in most instances). A coin in a slab shouts out "sell me." The coin is encased in thick plastic; the condition grade is printed boldly on the label. As such, it is packaged and ready for sale. A coin encased in plastic cannot be experienced, that is to say, it cannot be touched. The collector does not have the opportunity to gently move it to the side, to select it for special treatment.
I submit that slabs stand in the way of true collecting. This is not the way of the coin necromancer. There is no middle ground here for those who collect coins with the purpose of evoking images of the past. Consequently, the coin must come out of the slab, so that it can be experienced and cared for by the collector in a way that allows the collector to use their skills while also defining the unique role that the coin plays in the collection.
Arranging and handling coins are integral parts of the ritual that allows a person to commune with objects to give them meaning. To interact with a real piece of the past is the goal of the necromancer. Our coin care rituals stem from the power of kratophany: a power born of simultaneous approach and avoidance tendencies. In short, coins, and other relics from the past, have a power that pulls us in and pushes us away. They are to be touched but not touched. The challenge is to find the middle ground. And for each coin, the middle ground is different.