Jeff Reichenberger writes:

This is the story of a package received from the United States Mint.

THE SHREDDED BOX

At 6 p.m. I walked through the door, when my eyes were drawn to a sight on the floor...

There lay a box all shredded and broken, that once cradled a coin before it was open...

Packing foam peanuts all clingy with static, were spread from the cellar floor to the attic...

The treasure within had an outermost wrap, a cellophane bag now ripped into scrap...

Next I discovered a torn paper sheath, that slid onto a white glossy box underneath...

The decorative box of shimmering white, was flat as a pancake, crushed and contrite...

I then found a box of velvety blue, the hinge had been sprung and broken in two...

Out fell a cushion, a silken sham, all smeared with a substance like strawberry jam...

The following scene was entirely drastic, a shattered and splintered capsule of plastic...

The hard plastic capsule where the coin was encased, lay there in pieces all over the place...

It once sat in the cushion now covered in goo, that fell out of the box of velvety blue...

The brand new box of velvety blue, with a busted up hinge that was cracked in two...

From the proud little box of glossy white, that with heinous dispatch had lost the fight...

They all fit so cozily tucked underneath, the now crumpled and torn apart paper sheath...

Sealed up in the bag, the outermost wrap, the cellophane bag now nothing but scrap...

Once protected by peanuts, clingy with static, dispersed from the cellar floor to the attic...

And all packed in the box, shredded and broken, that cradled the coin before it was open...

It was only a matter of simple deduction, that led to the culprit of all this destruction...

The redhead it was, my offspring thug, she sat there among the debris on the rug...

I caught her before she could run to her mother, jellyroll in one hand, coin in the other...

The coin was sticky with red jelly prints, a large silver proof from the United States Mint...

It was ruined by a numismatist's measure, but to her it was an immeasurable treasure...

We smiled and she gave me a jellyroll kiss, and ran off with the coin in her toddler bliss...

And stuck to her bottom like divine serendipity, the parchment certificate of authenticity...

With the packaging the certificate did come, official document now stuck to her bum...

Along with the coin, sticky with prints, a proof that came from the United States Mint...

Which was once airtight, safe, and fantastic, in the now obliterated capsule of plastic...

All nestled inside the cushioned sham, now covered with remnants of strawberry jam...

The silken cushion smeared with goo, came out of the box of velvet blue...

A lovely box when it was new, now the hinge was snapped and broken in two...

From the glossy box, once sturdy and tight, now flat as a pancake in decorative white...

It was all tucked carefully just underneath, what once was a paper protective sheath...

Encased in the bag, cellophane wrapped, the outermost cover severed and scrapped...

The Styrofoam peanuts, clingy with static, spread out from the cellar floor to the attic...

All out of the box, now shredded and broken, that cradled the coin before it was open...

Seven layers of packaging couldn't withstand, the exuberant genius of her tiny hands...

Packing peanuts still stuck to my socks, along with cardboard and tape from the box...

Slack-jawed and weak from all this emotion, I needed a drink from a powerful potion...

As I marveled at the whole strange affair, I slumped down in a heap in my favorite chair...

Closing my eyes I pictured her smile, and that made the whole crazy evening worthwhile...

She loved the coin and thought I was great, off went my shoes and I was snoring by eight...

To read the earlier E-Sylum article, see:
DICK JOHNSON ON U.S. MINT PACKAGING(www.coinbooks.org/esylum_v19n43a27.html)