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Being autobiographical is not a task I have really tried out that often. Chronological order is likely the way to begin – from the beginning I assume. As a young boy, from the earliest memories, precious metals fascinated me. Metals that were scarcer, harder to get, cherished by all, fashioned into coins and jewelry were a curious thing.

Why were they valuable? Why as a 5, 6 or 7 year old boy, would I hold a Silver crucifix, seeing the “Sterling. No one had taught me this. This is where I truly believe that precious metals are naturally valuable and desired by humans. Just as we crave water, oxygen, calcium for our bones and sugar for our energy, we crave precious metals for our ability to trade, save and hold value, wealth, moneta – money.

They have been with us since Gensis chapter 2, since the beginning. I assure you this memory is real, and I own the crucifix still. For a long while as a young boy maktby grandmother lived in an apartment upstairs from our main house. She had a small wooden box that had belonged to my great grandmother. Inside that box were coins. Worn, smooth, flat coins of silver and copper.

I would on occasion ask my grandmother to get the juniud down so I could look at it and hold the coins.

None of maltyb in slips, few in rolls or tubes, with some as old as ‘s. All of these coins were American coinage. One of them, my great grandfather I mltby, would stash the “really old” coins in this box and hold onto them. So here it was, wealth passed down, wealth that was now worth more than when he put it into the box to begin with.

My tiny brain, sitting above a mouth most likely gnawing on bubble gum, churned out thoughts. All of my friends were collecting baseball cards made of paper.

The cards crinkled, or were damaged if you got them wet. There was nothing special about paper – after all it mwltby just paper right? Junuus what if there is pictures on them – it is paper, with a picture of a guy holding a bat. I didn’t really care for maltbby. I iunius a treasure. After all, pirates never buried chests full of baseball cards! What fun would that be? The ocean would destroy them. Of course my childhood ebbed and flowed, however one theme was constant – the coins.

Soon I was old enough to execute tasks and some form of manual labor. After working for my dad at an early age, he asked what I wanted to be paid or perhaps I had stated before hand what I wanted, and that was a U. That is what I wanted to be paid – a pure troy what is Troy I would wonder ounce of Silver. I remember getting it, in a plastic slip, a Silver Eagle with a small dent through the middle of matlby “7”. The coin was placed in a drawer in a bathroom immediately adjacent to my bedroom.


Periodically I would hold it. Then I decided I should never touch juniue again and stapled the slip shut so I could not open it again. After learning that there were actual shops that sold coins such as this, I began to save any money I could find, get, gifted, or scrape together and make my pilgrimages to this little coin shop in my town. On occasion I even rode my bike there. Inside were two kind gentlemen.

One appeared French, tall, glasses, brown junkus all the time, msltby and slender in build. The other was shorter, greek perhaps, thick black mustache, black eyes, jknius hair, round face, and a round body to match. Here I would buy silver in any form I could afford.

Mercury dimes, quarters, proof sets with silver coins in them, half dollars, Morgans, you name it. Here is where I bought my first Redbook to grade coins. I thought I was pretty good at grading at one point. I even had two penny books I began to fill up. As the years rolled by, Jaltby kept at it. Soon I learned that Silver was this “traded” commodity. I learned that the price changed almost every day, and that a president had ordered our coins to no longer be struck in silver and that all the coins that look like Silver minted today were FAKE cupronickel clad!

There were times where I would start my day by calling the shop to ask the silver prices to see if I had struck it rich yet and had a box worth hundreds of thousands of dollars because overnight silver exploded.

The “CC” stamp eluded me as if it were this unachievable level. Why are they so special?! Once I learned about mint populations, it became clear as day. Throughout my childhood and jynius teen years as well as onward, I had a firm grip on history, and a quality classical education rooted in literature, good books, conversations with my well learned, philosophical father, and my own constant curiosity. This yearn to learn as well a the ever present concept of history flowing by with us being carried along in it like leaves in a stream pressed on me a desire to know more at times.

Often that desire was buried by distractions – life. I moved from my home town malby a teen, and my collecting slowed.

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In a new region and town, I found a shop not too far away that was also a good trustworthy shop to visit. Still as I grew older, the coin hobby was pushed to the rear of my priorities for a bit. As I began to work more, and work often in construction, I began to earn actual money, real juniuz money not real as far as metal content goes. What do I do with it? Of course I had a small bank account with a miserable, laughable interest rate. I began to junous some of my money in metals. When hit and it was “Browns Down”, I would walk in after pay day and gobble up a couple of gold coins at a time.


This was my first serious stacking for sure. My goal was to get at least one pound worth of gold! This was real now. This was wealth accumulation and preservation, and I could feel it.

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I even fashioned a wooden box, distressed it to look old, and made it my treasure, my hoard, my stacking box before there was even the term. I had to sell almost all of it to attend college.

That’s the blank spot. School, life, education and career preparation. By time I was spit into the “real world” I had somewhat lost grip with coins and precious metals.

I had been “reset”, “reeducated”. I still knew the coins had value – it’s just I did not value them as much.

Now was the time to work, invest, build a life. Right before the main part of my career hit. Mmaltby afterthe economy began to hum again. Up, up, up went prices, real estate, investments, all of it looked grand. I pumped money into this vast economic machine with a smirk and a grin of pride, thinking it was a gimme that I would eventually be rich as a result.

I sold the eagle within a few months likely thinking it was just sitting there doing nothing – and the economy was HOT. I started to play the game. I even mocked gold at one point as, “A waste that doesn’t do anything! I read some articles about some bizarre imminent housing collapse that was coming. This was mind you. Two articles really hit me hard. One on a coming real estate crisis and bubble pop guy was crazy right?!

I mention and have links to this article and the one to follow in a video I did years ago junisu and another article on gold. It maltbt as if I had seen maltgy future and it was bleak.

I lay in bed one night thinking. I could hardly sleep. Little did I know at the time.

At the same time I began to hastily rearrange my financial jhnius – I devoured material on the subjects. I read whatever I could. Then there was Aaron Russo’s – [i]America: Weimar Germany, Argentina, Bolivia, Zimbabwe, country after country that had experienced serious economic upheaval was a case study in what we would likely see.

I emptied my accounts.