My name is Morgan, I am a silver dollar. There are many of us Morgans, we seem to be able to tell ourselves apart pretty easily despite us all having the same name. I was minted back in 1879, at New Orleans, my father was silver from Colorado, my mother was a new coining press that had replaced the one from before the Civil War. I have always been lucky, most of my brothers and sisters sat for years in bank vaults, shut up in mint bags and counted every so often, it was not so with me, I got out early and worked at my job of furthering commerce in my country. I first stepped out into the world in 1880, I was beginning to believe the other silver dollars that we would never see the light of day, but one day one of the men at my home took me out of the vault to a counter where I was taken out of the bag and exchanged along with 711 of my sisters for a pile of silver certificates. It was a strange world, so unlike the vault, which was quiet except for the sound of the older bullion toning with a low murmer. My first job was with a trader who had brought loads of finished lumber down to New Orleans from Wisconsin, he was a man of taste who preferred us substantial forms of money more than the paper which he traded us with. Back at the ship, I was almost immediately placed in another dark place, a safe, it was a let down, but soon I was again taken out and was given to a deck hand as payment for his work, the trip had been prosperous for the trader and so I changed hands, along with 30 of my sisters. Back into the city I went, at a tavern I was again exchanged, my owner traded me for a beer, he got the beer and 90 cents in change, and I was placed in the till by the woman who was running the tavern. It was a good day for the tavern, they did a great business that day, what with many ships and barges unloading their goods there was much work for all and much celebrating by the workmen after the work had been done. That night I was taken from the till by the owner of the tavern who took me with him to a small gambling house, there I was used by him when making bets on cards, my luck was rubbing off on him, he made lots of money and I was soon joined by many of my sisters and little half dollar sisters and even some of the snooty gold sisters family joined us. My owner was very pleased with the luck I had given him, he threw me to the coach driver who took him back to his home that night, who was also pleased with getting me. I was pretty busy for the next twenty years, I left New Orleans on a boat that sailed to the metropolis of my country, New York, there I shared my lucky status with all who came into contact with me, I had some wear on me sure, but the luck was deeper than the surface. It was around 1900 that I made my trip across the country, a strange man from the old world had recieved me and had instead of putting me in his pocket had put me in a trunk and I made my way to Nebraska, where I lived in a cupboard, my luck was still working, the farmer kept adding more to his stash, along with a wife it was around 1920 that the man had a son, a strong good boy, quiet, he soon started working along with his dad, I lived on that farm until one day the whole family was excited and the son who had always worn overalls was in the uniform of a soldier, I was given to him by his father, the son was going to war and I was going along. The son showed me to his friends who wanted him to spend me, but he always said no, he kept me in his pocket and I heard the mens conversations, I was with him as he went across the seas and as he trained day by day in England, a few Englishers wanted to buy me from him but he was determined to keep me with him, Its my lucky dollar he said, it was the first dollar my dad made when he came over to the states. The young man Kept me in his breast pocket where I could hear his heart beating, I shared the pocket with a small new testament Bible, who told me I was blessed because I was a blessing. It was not too long before we were on a ship crossing the channel, the landing was not as rough for us as it was for the men who had come first, we were soon moving into france, my soldier would often pat me when he took his rest. One day while the soldier was showerring another soldier took me from the pocket, and put me in his pants pocket. I was so ashamed, it was the first and only time I had been stolen, sure I had participated in gambling before and drinking but I had never been part of a thief. But my luck held, the thiefs pants had a small hole and as I moved into the pocket I was able to squeeze thru the hole, another soldier spotted me and said, hey Bob, did you drop your lucky coin? Bob was very happy to have me back and I was soon back over his heart in his pocket. My best time happened later in the war, Bob was standing a watch and an enemy sniper took aim at him and shot, the bullet passed thru the new testament and hit me just a bit right of my eagle the shock was enough to place what looked like a wart on my nose, it was a sacrifice of some of my beauty but I had saved a life. Bob showed me to his friends and everyone told Bob how lucky he was, I was very happy, soon the war ended and we went back to the farm, Bobs dad was very happy to see me, and I was shown to all Bobs friends and family. I was put in a drawer, in Bobs new home, Bob was now married, Bobs children would sometimes take me out and look at me, one day while everyone was gone I was stolen again, it made me very mad, the thief was supposed to be a friend of Bobs son, but he was not, my good luck became bad luck to him, he fell asleep while driving and crashed into a telephone pole, I went flying and landed in the road, a boy walking down the road found me and took me home, his dad told me what I was, he had never seen one like me before, the boy took me to a coin shop where the dealer told him that I was not worth anything more than a dollar, and then the ultimate insult, the bang I had gotten saving Bobs life was called post mint damage, the boy was told that I was not worth more than a dollar. The boy, whose name was Sam took me back home and I ended up in a drawer again, my luck was still there but I missed being taken around. It was about my 100th birthday, I was taken out of the drawer to the coin shop where I had been many years before, the man told him it is not worth much for collectors because of the damage but it is worth quite a bit for its silver value, The dealer gave him thirty paper dollars and I was being sent off to the smelters. What a terrible place that was, so many of my little sisters, older sisters, even those brothers of mine were being taken there, some of them were not even twenty years old, I was in a bag with many of my sisters, the peaces and morgans, a few strange others also, but something happened before they could end my existance, silver prices dropped and I was saved from the melting pot. I was sent to another dealers shop, one day I was taken home and placed in book with others like me, we all had done much work in our lives and we passed the time reminiscing about the places we had been, the things we had bought and all the sorts of things that coins talk about during the long hours that they are alone together. One day I was taken out of the book I was in, I had become a bit tarnished in there, I was placed in an envelope and sent across the country to Illinois, my new owner now carries me with him, I get a little more worn every day, but I still get taken out and shown around now and then, funny how there are so many millions of us and so many people today do not even know how much we worked and made this country great. http://www.cointalk.com/attachments/56853d1251687179-1879-morgan.jpg
