There’s something I want to tell you. After I got shot… you want to know the very first thing that entered my mind? Before I blacked out? Coins. I’m 8 years old again, on a tour of the US Mint. I’m listening to a guy explain how coins are made: how they’re punched out of sheet metal, how they’re rimmed and beveled, how they are stamped and cleaned. And how each and every batch of coins are personally examined… just in case any of them slip through with the slightest imperfections. That’s what popped into my head. I am a coin in the United States Army. I was minted in the year 1980. I’ve been punched from sheet metal. I’ve been stamped and cleaned, and my ridges have been rimmed and beveled. And now I have two small holes in me; I’m no longer in perfect condition. So there’s something else I want to tell you – right before everything went black, you want to know the very last thing that entered my mind? You.
