One vivid memory of my very early childhood back in the 1960s was of driving to church on Sunday mornings with my family. Since my grandparents lived close to us, Dad would always swing by and pick them up, and wed all carpool together. It was the job of Little Danny (as I was affectionately nicknamed back then) to sit in the backseat, wedged snugly between Grandpa and Grandma.
As if some sort of ritual, every Sunday Grandma would fish though her purse to find goodies for me and my older brother. Grandma almost always carried Wrigleys chewing gum, though once in a while we had to settle for a cherry-flavored cough drop. For a bonus treat, Grandma gave each grandson a coin to go in the piggybank. There were a few instances when I received a dime featuring a lady who sported a wild-looking hairdo, or at least thats how it appeared to a 4-year-old. On one occasion, Grandma explained to me the coin was called a Mercury dime. She was a coin collector of sorts, and I credit her with encouraging my first interest in coins. Even though it didnt mean much to me at the time, this was my first lesson on Mercury dimes.
With the passage of years, I gathered more knowledge on...
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