June 12, 1 Comment This week our blog is about Junius Maltby. He is a very active and prominent member of the silver YouTube community with his channel having over 13, subscribers. If you want to read his full bio we would suggested checking it out here on his blog. His is an very eloquent writer and we strongly suggest following his blog, but we will try to do his story justice here. His started directly with silver and precious metal collecting. He was inspired by a small chest of coins his grandmother kept and also a sterling silver crucifix.
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Follow About Being autobiographical is not a task I have really tried out that often. Chronological order is likely the way to begin - from the beginning I assume. As a young boy, from the earliest memories, precious metals fascinated me. Metals that were scarcer, harder to get, cherished by all, fashioned into coins and jewelry were a curious thing.
Why were they valuable? Why as a 5, 6 or 7 year old boy, would I hold a Silver crucifix, seeing the "Sterling. No one had taught me this. This is where I truly believe that precious metals are naturally valuable and desired by humans.
Just as we crave water, oxygen, calcium for our bones and sugar for our energy, we crave precious metals for our ability to trade, save and hold value, wealth, moneta - money. They have been with us since Gensis chapter 2, since the beginning.
I assure you this memory is real, and I own the crucifix still. For a long while as a young boy my grandmother lived in an apartment upstairs from our main house. She had a small wooden box that had belonged to my great grandmother.
Inside that box were coins. Many coins. Old coins. Worn, smooth, flat coins of silver and copper. I would on occasion ask my grandmother to get the box down so I could look at it and hold the coins.
All of these coins were American coinage. One of them, my great grandfather I believe, would stash the "really old" coins in this box and hold onto them. So here it was, wealth passed down, wealth that was now worth more than when he put it into the box to begin with.
My tiny brain, sitting above a mouth most likely gnawing on bubble gum, churned out thoughts. All of my friends were collecting baseball cards made of paper. The cards crinkled, or were damaged if you got them wet. There was nothing special about paper - after all it is just paper right? So what if there is pictures on them - it is paper, with a picture of a guy holding a bat.
I wanted a treasure. I wanted coins. After all, pirates never buried chests full of baseball cards! What fun would that be? The ocean would destroy them. Of course my childhood ebbed and flowed, however one theme was constant - the coins. Soon I was old enough to execute tasks and some form of manual labor.
After working for my dad at an early age, he asked what I wanted to be paid or perhaps I had stated before hand what I wanted, and that was a U. Silver Eagle. That is what I wanted to be paid - a pure troy what is Troy I would wonder ounce of Silver.
I remember getting it, in a plastic slip, a Silver Eagle with a small dent through the middle of the "7". The coin was placed in a drawer in a bathroom immediately adjacent to my bedroom. Periodically I would hold it. Then I decided I should never touch it again and stapled the slip shut so I could not open it again. After learning that there were actual shops that sold coins such as this, I began to save any money I could find, get, gifted, or scrape together and make my pilgrimages to this little coin shop in my town.
On occasion I even rode my bike there. Inside were two kind gentlemen. One appeared French, tall, glasses, brown suits all the time, older and slender in build. The other was shorter, greek perhaps, thick black mustache, black eyes, black hair, round face, and a round body to match. Here I would buy silver in any form I could afford.
Mercury dimes, quarters, proof sets with silver coins in them, half dollars, Morgans, you name it. Here is where I bought my first Redbook to grade coins. I thought I was pretty good at grading at one point. Who knows? I even had two penny books I began to fill up. As the years rolled by, I kept at it.
Soon I learned that Silver was this "traded" commodity. I learned that the price changed almost every day, and that a president had ordered our coins to no longer be struck in silver and that all the coins that look like Silver minted today were FAKE cupronickel clad! There were times where I would start my day by calling the shop to ask the silver prices to see if I had struck it rich yet and had a box worth hundreds of thousands of dollars because overnight silver exploded.
The "CC" stamp eluded me as if it were this unachievable level. Why are they so special?! Once I learned about mint populations, it became clear as day. Throughout my childhood and early teen years as well as onward, I had a firm grip on history, and a quality classical education rooted in literature, good books, conversations with my well learned, philosophical father, and my own constant curiosity.
This yearn to learn as well a the ever present concept of history flowing by with us being carried along in it like leaves in a stream pressed on me a desire to know more at times. Often that desire was buried by distractions - life. I moved from my home town as a teen, and my collecting slowed.
In a new region and town, I found a shop not too far away that was also a good trustworthy shop to visit. Still as I grew older, the coin hobby was pushed to the rear of my priorities for a bit. As I began to work more, and work often in construction, I began to earn actual money, real fiat money not real as far as metal content goes. What do I do with it? Of course I had a small bank account with a miserable, laughable interest rate.
I began to stash some of my money in metals. Years ticked by. When hit and it was "Browns Down", I would walk in after pay day and gobble up a couple of gold coins at a time. This was my first serious stacking for sure. My goal was to get at least one pound worth of gold! This was real now. This was wealth accumulation and preservation, and I could feel it. I even fashioned a wooden box, distressed it to look old, and made it my treasure, my hoard, my stacking box before there was even the term.
I had to sell almost all of it to attend college. The dead zone. School, life, education and career preparation. By time I was spit into the "real world" I had somewhat lost grip with coins and precious metals. I had been "reset", "reeducated". Now was the time to work, invest, build a life. Right before the main part of my career hit. America changed. Soon after , the economy began to hum again. Up, up, up went prices, real estate, investments, all of it looked grand.
I pumped money into this vast economic machine with a smirk and a grin of pride, thinking it was a gimme that I would eventually be rich as a result. I sold the eagle within a few months likely thinking it was just sitting there doing nothing - and the economy was HOT. I started to play the game. Time ticked by. I fell asleep. I read some articles about some bizarre imminent housing collapse that was coming.
This was mind you. Two articles really hit me hard. One on a coming real estate crisis and bubble pop guy was crazy right?! I mention and have links to this article and the one to follow in a video I did years ago ; and another article on gold. It was as if I had seen the future and it was bleak. I lay in bed one night thinking.
I could hardly sleep. Little did I know at the time.
Shelves: read The first question to ask is why is it Steinbeck made this a separate short story in his book, The Pastures of Heaven and also in, The Red Pony? If you know this up front it makes it even more surprising to find out the main character, Janius Maltby, loves to read fiction, and this fact seems to be connected to the fact that he is a lazy bounder. He especially likes to read Robert Louis Stevenson, but is that something that were told and is redemptive? All this leads to another question: why is Steinbeck connecting reading fiction to this guys failed life? Maltby works as an accountant in San Francisco, but his doctor tells him drier weather may help his respiratory illness.
Characters[ edit ] Jody Tiflin — the young protagonist of The Red Pony is innocent, dedicated, and polite, but also cruel, shown when he kills a bird and then after dismboweling it tosses it into the bushes. Billy Buck — Billy Buck is a middle-aged man who is experienced with horses. He works for the Tiflins as the stable helper. The belt showed Carl Tiflin — Carl Tiflin is the father of Jody. He likes order and will accept nothing less than a respectable farm.
Follow About Being autobiographical is not a task I have really tried out that often. Chronological order is likely the way to begin - from the beginning I assume. As a young boy, from the earliest memories, precious metals fascinated me. Metals that were scarcer, harder to get, cherished by all, fashioned into coins and jewelry were a curious thing. Why were they valuable? Why as a 5, 6 or 7 year old boy, would I hold a Silver crucifix, seeing the "Sterling.