Is the thrill still there?

Is the thrill still there?
I remember when I was 10 years old, our family didn’t have much money. What extra money my dad did earn went to pay my sisters huge medical bills. I remember my mom buying me a 1963 Redbook, which was a lot of money for a “silly” book about coins. I read that book cover to cover several times. I reveled in the short notes about the origins of early coins.
I spent untold hours going through the few dollars worth of Lincolns that my dad would bring home every Friday night. Then carefully re-roll them so he could take them back to work on Monday morning. Those few that I did pull out I would show with great glee to my mom feigning interest with a big smile.
My allowance was 25 cents a week, of course it was a silver quarter that I received every Friday night. We would load into the car and drive to Thrifty’s Drug Store where the reward for a week completed was a single scoop ice cream cone for 5 cents. About twice a year, dad would throw caution to the wind and we would get TWO scoops for 10 cents.
Saturday I would take the vegetables from my garden and walk through the neighborhood selling squash and corn to the neighbors. I would also mow a couple of lawns for $1 each. About every two weeks I would plead with my mom or dad to take me to the local coin shop on Figueroa St in Santa Barbara. There, clutching the $3-$4 in one hand and my Red Book in the other, I would carefully pick out some “pennies” for my old Whitman folder. On one trip my grandfather tagged along and saw me spend 50 cents on an AU 1917-S Lincoln. He was quite upset and I got quite the lecture on the value of money.
By the time I was 12, I had a paper route and delivered 188 papers every day. For this I earned about $30 a month. I remember the day I proudly came home from the coin shop with the crowning piece of my collection. A slightly bent 1877 Indian Cent for $35. I was proud that by the time I was 15, I had a complete set of Indian Head Cents. About that time, girls, high school and jobs took up more and more time and collecting went lower on the list.
I’ve noticed in me that the passion for coins is not what it once was. When I see a coin now, I see it as something to buy and then to sell at a profit. I’ve tried different series, different grade sets, but the thrill just seemed to disappear a few years ago.
Enter my son. My oldest boy is 13 and has a form of Autism. Most pursuits don’t interest him. Last year I was going through a 5000 coin bag of Wheats because they were older dates and apparently had never been searched. My son sat down beside me and indicated he wanted to help. I said OK, and went and pulled out a couple of old Whitman folders and we started to fill holes. A strange feeling started to come over me. Something I had not felt in decades. A sense of accomplishment as we slowly started filling hole after hole. I noticed an intensity in my son that reminded me of myself so many years ago.
My son did finish his Lincoln set by going through several bags of Wheats, and yes, I did salt the dozen or so key and semi-key dates. But he doesn’t know and it doesn’t really matter. He then did a set of Jefferson Nickels the same way. His latest accomplishment , that he just finished, is a set of Indian Cents. And yes, I again supplied the keys, but he had to go through thousands of coins to find them. I watch my son now studying his coins and reading about coins in the coin magazines and I see myself 40 years ago. But the most important thing I’ve found is the fulfillment of sitting by my son and pressing coins into that old coin folder. I can honestly say that finding a Good-4, 1912-S with my son is more rewarding than buying a $10,000 coin.
If the magic has left you, try what I did and sit next to a child and fill the holes, and maybe, just maybe the magic will return.