At our core we are all collectors. I remember in the second or third grade being asked what hobbies I had. I told the class I was a numismatist, only to watch in horror as the class lapsed into a somnambulant state, barely sentient yet watchful and aware. “I collect coins!”, I burst out in a wild attempt to avoid childhood trauma and return to my normal state of being merely weird. I want to believe there was an audible gasp at this revelation, but I suspect everyone simply returned to their crayons and compasses.
I saved up my money to buy, well, money; but not just any money — rare coins worth possibly dozens of cents. We would buy shiny, mirror-like proof sets hermetically sealed in plastic boxes and announce to the world, “untouched by human hands”, as if these were a kind of peculiar circus act. Millions of years from now they will be found by alien explorers, who will wonder what odd people produced these carvings and their purpose.
Back on Earth, my brothers and I would read about actual rare coins created in error at the mint. These misshapen coins would be released into the wild to appear like Easter eggs in a strawberry field. They shouldn’t be there but hey, eggs. Key elements of coin metrics include the type of coin, the date minted and the location of the Mint; “D” for Denver; “S” for San Francisco. No mint mark meant Philadelphia obviously, as the “P” is silent. Because so few of these mistakes were produced they became extremely valuable, approaching the stuff of legend. 
This penny for example, sold for $210,000 at auction in 2010.
We still collect things, you and I, looking for that unique coin or concept. We hold these in memory, anchors to the past, bridges to the future.
whoisfenton 