Every day on the way to class, I hear the clink of silver jingling in my pocket. Yes, I know not many coins are minted in silver anymore, but this is not the case throughout the history of our world. Every day I carry with me five coins that help tell the story of who I am.
One of the coins is a silver dollar minted by the U.S. It depicts Sitting Bull on the front side of the coin with the likeness of a buffalo on the obverse side. I obtained this coin two years ago while on a trip with my son, Ethan, through the Black Hills of South Dakota. Not only is this coin special because we were together, but my great-grandmother and Ethan's great-great-grandmother were members of the Lakota Sioux.
The second coin is a 1921 Morgan Silver dollar brought to life as a way of saving plummeting silver prices after several large lodes of silver were discovered in the "New World." Although the Black Hills are best known for the gold rushes during the 1870s, several large veins of silver were found there as well. In a cruel bit of irony, the U.S. government went back upon the Treaty of Fort Laramie, which confirmed ownership of the "axis mundi" to the Lakota who considered this land the sacred center of the world.
My grandmother was Polish; I carry a Zloty in her honor. Her husband, my grandfather, was German, therefore a 1911 reichmark. I am sure I need not rehash the historical significance of this union.
These four coins come from the past, specifically the history of my family. If my Polish and German as well as my American Indian and American ancestors could get past their personal differences then who am I to hold a grudge against anyone?
I know in my heart the turmoil that went into making me who I am. I can feel the struggles within myself, when I try to understand the past and apply what my family has learned to the future. I know the individual pieces of who I am, like the coins themselves, are all made of the same material created in a giant celestial furnace, but each holds a story stronger than the material they are made of, a story with a much deeper meaning.
With each step I take in the present, I can feel those of my past walking aside me. History is an organic beast, ever changing and growing as time flows forth. I see my life as an adventure, I only get one shot at it and to walk down a path already trodden by an ancestor seems foolhardy at best. I think an ethereal smack in the head by my grandmother would be an appropriate measure for repeating her mistakes.
Let's not forget where we come from and more importantly let's not assume because of someone's nationality or group affiliation that they are a part of some atrocity or evil, my very recent ancestors are a testament to that fallacy.
And the fifth coin, you ask? I carry that in my heart.
While I acknowledge the importance of my past, only I can embark on my future adventure. Who knows what coin I will add to Ethan's pocket; perhaps a Bahamian dollar, a Japanese Yen or a Costa Rican colon. Some people choose to put old coins on a shelf or in a case; I choose to keep them in my pocket where they belong, in the time stream of the current and relevant.
At a time like this, it bears importance to remember that we all have our own history to share.
So where are your coins?
Jamey Sackett put in his two cents … now put in yours. Reach him at: jamey.sackett@gmail.com
