Loving the Unloved: Ode to the Penny Pocket Piece

No one loves me now.

But once, long ago, I enjoyed a charmed relationship.
I was cherished.
My keeper had faith. I was magic: A good luck piece.
And so, I was never forgotten. Always in the left pocket.
During arguments, I was vigorously rubbed; in lines, I was flipped over and over again; by the hearth, I was studied.
I was never dropped.

Back in the goode olde dayes

Well, a few hands tossed me back when I had some shine; I went from cash box to cash box.
Then one day, I was kept.
There I stayed: In the pocket.
After years of service, I was moved to a purse.
I became a still point in a world moving all around me.
At some point, I cannot remember when, I was re-examined. It was not by the hearth. No, it was a fumbling hand with a big glass.
I was encased in cellophane and labeled "ungradeable."
That's not even a word.
Poor-0.5 -- What a stupid designation.
They whisper that I have no "eye-appeal."
But I do. I am smoothed by countless touches. A refuge for tense, bored, or inquiring fingertips.
I am beautiful. I am a ghost.
But there's more. What I offer is more immediate. Bring on the fingertips.
I have a history too. Unknowable perhaps, but full of action.
And, best of all, I am magical.
Yes, I am a lucky penny. (I know, I know, it is "cent," but I'm not a braggart).
I think everyone should have a pocket piece: A lucky talisman.

Thanks to the necromancer. He loves me (again).

Old Sails: Defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588.

This is one of my favorite jettons.
   It is a broad, thin piece (only 6g) that is fully struck and nicely centered. This one was obviously cared for and passed from collector to collector. I feel lucky to have it, even though it is a common design. But of course, all Spanish Armada jettons are popular, so get them when you can.
   For the ship lover, this one is hard to beat as it features two sixteenth century warships in the heat of battle. The engraving is crisp and balanced. The high fore- and aft-castles are detailed and accurately depict the distinctive form of the mighty galleons.
   The ship on the right is on the offensive, cannons firing with smoke billowing out. It is on a starboard tack, broadside facing the enemy vessel. The other ship has taken evasive action with sails oddly reversed, bow nearly into the wind. What a great action shot!
   We can only guess which ship is the Spanish one.

   Nearly 150 ships left Lisbon at the end of May of 1588 to invade England. They entered the English channel in July after struggling against foul winds and harsh waves. The English launched a series of attacks, but they were careful not to get close enough for the Spanish to board. As such, the English strategy was long-range cannon fire.
   When the Spanish anchored, several fireships were sent out and eventually the Spanish fleet retreated in August by sailing north around Scotland. Tragically, many of the galleons were sunk in the raging seas. It was a devastating blow to the Spanish fleet. The heavy losses were interpreted as an act of God.
   The legend on the jetton summarizes this saga: VENIT + IVIT + FVIT. This translates to: "It came; it went away; it came to nothing." The caption beneath the ships reads: CLASSIS-HISP; this labels the ships as coming from Spain.
   The obverse legend (not shown) has the familiar phrase: GLORIA SOLI DEO or Glory to God Alone. This underscores the belief that God's hand was responsible for the loss of the Spanish fleet.
   I imagine that this jetton was quite popular in its time. It was a significant event that was widely known. An invasion was foiled by nature. What a storyline. Now, four-hundred plus years later, this piece is in my hands (for a while anyway); I find it quite amazing to ponder.

Blank Canvas Collecting

So many collectors get caught on the train. Or, they stick to the super-highway.
   They ride the rails. They hug the big road. They watch the rest of the world whoosh by without ever taking a side road.
   This is the world of set collecting. And, there is nothing wrong with set collecting (I have done it -- although I have never finished a set).
   Set collecting stems from the early days when coins could be found in circulation and coin boards were widely available. What a great pastime it was in the 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s.

Use you imagination! Coin collectors can learn from these boys.
Create a unique set that tells your story. And have fun!

   The coin board had it all. The limits of the collection were well-defined. The rare ones were clearly marked -- sometimes, the hole was already filled with a cardboard filler labeled "rare." Your progress was immediately evident by counting the number of unfilled holes. All told, your future was laid out in front of you.
   The coin board or folder was a masterstroke. But ... .
   In some odd way, it all reminds me of growing up in a neatly manicured suburban neighborhood. Every house, the same; all yards squared with geometric precision. Tidy.
   How comforting.
   Many numismatic writers have made a living suggesting different versions of this suburban theme. Collect Lincolns! Collect all the Buffalos. Now, I like Lincolns and Buffalos.

But do I need them all? Do I want the coin board to shape the next few years of my life?
   And let me be a bit radical here: Was it really a good idea to prompt collectors to get one of each YEAR AND MINT? Was this really a ground-breaking insight? Of course, I only have praise for Augustus Heaton and his 17 points of light. But personally, I think a collection from a single mint is more interesting. And, more relevant. Think about it.
   Alas, most collectors are completists. It is a psychological thing I guess.
   So, why not complete a set of your own design? Why not start with a (coin) board where you punch the holes?
   A blank canvas. That is what I suggest. Complete this instead. Fill in the white space.
   Let collecting become a creative act wherein each coin is chosen to tell a larger story -- a story larger and more exciting than a canned set that someone else thought of.
   Use your imagination to tell a story with coins!

Loving the Unloved: I am not a Numismatic Hero.

Often I read about "Numismatic Heroes."
   In Coin World (plus other newsy coin publications) the kudos flow to the owners of the mint-state rarities. "He had a good eye." "What an accomplishment." "She collected for years."
   Yes, to possess a mint-state large cent is an accomplishment! That is what they say. If I had several hundred thousand dollars, I could be accomplished too. Of course, I would work with an experienced dealer (like all the heroes did) so that only the best coins were presented to me.

All this celebration assumes that the mint-state coin is what it is all about. Oh, and don't forget the full-details: every leaf must have full veins, sharp points, and bold stems (unless of course it is a stemless variety). My favorite heroes are the savvy, keen-eyed experts who pay five-figures for full-bell lines. Now, this guy deserves to win the grading fest competition! Sound the trumpets.

Will anyone love me?
I am unheroic. I have no slab to come home to.
If only someone would take a moment to ponder my story.

But what about the collector who wants something different? The collector who actually sees wear as a portal to the past? Who finds corrosion fascinating because it reflects the way of all things? Who wants an honest piece that was touched by thousands of fingertips, perhaps lost then found, and was actually valued and used as money?
   "Well, this is the "low-end" collector," say the pundits. "A simpleton," they add.
   "The historic coin is the mint-state piece that survived (untouched) for 250+ years." So say the pundits.

But what history lies between the rims of a mint-state coin?
   Nothing.
   Without human touch, use, loss, rediscovery -- there is no story to be told.

Yet, the grading camps go on like a fiery revival. Everyone is gathered under the tents. Young and impressionable collectors are schooled in the pseudo-science of grading. Becoming the "smart buyer" trumps the fascination elicited by a crusty old coin. Crusty coins become labeled as "culls." It is an industry in action.

Of course, it is easy to love the shiny coin. Yes, let us hold up our MS-65 slabs and pat each other on the back. Shall we sing: "I'm so glad; about my slab; full bell lines; look so fine ... ."

No wonder coin collecting is dying.
   Collectors are encasing themselves in plastic. So many are suffocating. Collectors are turned into anxious shoppers looking for the sale. "Blue light special on aisle three!" After all, who doesn't want to become a hero who can celebrate their "smart buy."

I am not a hero. I don't make any smart buys.