A nice Mercury dime story
Michigan
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THE GIFT "The Gift" is a series about the things we've received, the things we've given, the things we remember. In big ways and small, they are gifts that have changed our lives.
Frank DeGeorge had no idea what his son down in Charlotte had sent him for Christmas. A book of some kind, maybe.
Then he opened it, and it nearly took his breath. He looked at one spot in particular, saw what was there. And he thought:
Steve remembered.
The memory came from more than 30 years ago, when Frank DeGeorge had a wife and five kids and no money coming in.
The family lived in Menonomee Falls, Wis., where Frank had spent decades with the National Tea grocery-store chain. He worked his way up to manager of the Milwaukee operations. But in the early '70s, National Tea started shutting down stores and Frank was out of a job.
He and his brother started a food brokerage, helping small companies get their products on the shelves. But the business couldn't get off the ground. Frank was staring at a dwindling savings account and no money coming in.
He had to sell the Mercury dimes.
He hated to do it. He had collected coins his whole life. Steve -- the middle child -- had caught the bug, too. They'd go to the bank and swap a $5 bill for 10 rolls of pennies and sift through them back home, looking for rare ones like miners panning for gold.
The Mercury dimes were the jewels of Frank's collection. They were the standard American dime between 1916 and 1945, featuring a head that was meant to be Liberty but reminded people of the Roman god Mercury.
"Just a beautiful coin," Frank says.
Counting versions stamped at different mints, a full set of Mercury dimes is made up of 77 coins. Frank had 76. He was missing the 1916-D coin -- the D stands for the Denver mint. It's the rarest Mercury dime of all.
But even without it he found a buyer for the dimes, and the rest of his collection. The money fed his family and paid the bills for a few months. Not long after that, the brokerage business picked up and the DeGeorges had made it through their toughest times.
Steve, the son who loved coins, went to school and became a lawyer. Eventually he moved to Charlotte, where he works for the firm of Robinson, Bradshaw and Hinson.
A couple of years ago he was trying to figure out what to get his dad for Christmas. Then it came to him. It took some work -- he had to win a few auctions on eBay, including one for a single item that was worth more than the rest put together.
Steve and his family go to Wisconsin for Christmas every other year. In the years they don't go, they mail their gifts. So Steve wasn't there when Frank opened the package that felt like a book.
It was a book. A coin collector's book, with holes for 77 Mercury dimes.
Frank's eyes went to the spot for the 1916-D. And there it was. A rare and beautiful thing.
For the first time in his life, Frank had the full set.
He choked up on the phone that morning, talking to his son. It meant a lot to Frank, knowing that Steve remembered.
"But you know how it is," Steve says. "I could never really repay him."
Frank DeGeorge had no idea what his son down in Charlotte had sent him for Christmas. A book of some kind, maybe.
Then he opened it, and it nearly took his breath. He looked at one spot in particular, saw what was there. And he thought:
Steve remembered.
The memory came from more than 30 years ago, when Frank DeGeorge had a wife and five kids and no money coming in.
The family lived in Menonomee Falls, Wis., where Frank had spent decades with the National Tea grocery-store chain. He worked his way up to manager of the Milwaukee operations. But in the early '70s, National Tea started shutting down stores and Frank was out of a job.
He and his brother started a food brokerage, helping small companies get their products on the shelves. But the business couldn't get off the ground. Frank was staring at a dwindling savings account and no money coming in.
He had to sell the Mercury dimes.
He hated to do it. He had collected coins his whole life. Steve -- the middle child -- had caught the bug, too. They'd go to the bank and swap a $5 bill for 10 rolls of pennies and sift through them back home, looking for rare ones like miners panning for gold.
The Mercury dimes were the jewels of Frank's collection. They were the standard American dime between 1916 and 1945, featuring a head that was meant to be Liberty but reminded people of the Roman god Mercury.
"Just a beautiful coin," Frank says.
Counting versions stamped at different mints, a full set of Mercury dimes is made up of 77 coins. Frank had 76. He was missing the 1916-D coin -- the D stands for the Denver mint. It's the rarest Mercury dime of all.
But even without it he found a buyer for the dimes, and the rest of his collection. The money fed his family and paid the bills for a few months. Not long after that, the brokerage business picked up and the DeGeorges had made it through their toughest times.
Steve, the son who loved coins, went to school and became a lawyer. Eventually he moved to Charlotte, where he works for the firm of Robinson, Bradshaw and Hinson.
A couple of years ago he was trying to figure out what to get his dad for Christmas. Then it came to him. It took some work -- he had to win a few auctions on eBay, including one for a single item that was worth more than the rest put together.
Steve and his family go to Wisconsin for Christmas every other year. In the years they don't go, they mail their gifts. So Steve wasn't there when Frank opened the package that felt like a book.
It was a book. A coin collector's book, with holes for 77 Mercury dimes.
Frank's eyes went to the spot for the 1916-D. And there it was. A rare and beautiful thing.
For the first time in his life, Frank had the full set.
He choked up on the phone that morning, talking to his son. It meant a lot to Frank, knowing that Steve remembered.
"But you know how it is," Steve says. "I could never really repay him."
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Comments
- Marcus Tullius Cicero, 106-43 BC
Nice story. Thanks.