Before the Coins, There Was a Note

Before the Coins, There Was a Note

In 2019, I wrote a note in Google Keep about making coins.

I didn’t know how to machine the dies. I knew very little about blacksmithing. But I had an idea of what I wanted: heavy metal coins, simple designs, no paint or color. Something a person could carry.

The first line was straightforward:

“Challenge Coins - Make and sell Military challenge coins. Heavy steel indestructible challenge coins.”

Calling them indestructible was ambition, not a tested specification. This was a note to myself, not a product description.

Then came the questions:

“Do CNC machines make stamps? If so I could buy one and use it to make front and back impressions for the coins.

A fly press would be perfect to make the impressions.

The designs would need to be somewhat simple, no colors. Words are no problem. Each coin would be unique.”

Under materials, I listed stainless steel, steel, brass, and copper. Beside brass, I wrote “Foundry cast?”

There was plenty I didn’t know. But the idea had somewhere to start.

Original Google Keep note outlining plans for metal challenge coins, CNC-made stamps, a fly press, and possible materials.

My original Google Keep note from 2019. I had the idea, but plenty of questions about how to make it.

A few things worth carrying

By then, I was nearing the end of my Army career.

Everyday carry was already familiar to me, although we didn’t call it EDC. Living in a uniform conditions you to keep certain things with you: a riggers belt, a pocket knife, a pen, a notebook, a challenge coin.

For me, there was also a small wallet that fit in my shoulder pocket. It held what I needed and not much else.

Those were things I carried in both worlds, in the field and in garrison. Combat equipment changed with the circumstances. Those everyday essentials stayed with me.

Challenge coins were part of that life too. Some were display pieces. Others held memories of people, places, and experiences. Those were the ones I kept safe or carried in my pocket.

I wanted to make that kind of coin.

Learning something, then learning to use it

Philosophy had interested me since I was a kid. It was my favorite subject in college.

After my first deployment to Afghanistan in 2008–2009, I began learning more about Stoicism. It resonated with me and with a few of my combat buddies.

Understanding an idea and putting it into practice are different things, though.

As retirement got closer, I found myself dealing with more than the practical question of what came next. There were things from my years in service that I still needed to work through, along with habits that didn’t change just because I could recognize them.

I leaned further into Stoicism. Progress was slow. It still is, sometimes.

A coin wasn’t going to do that work for me. But carrying a reminder made sense. I already understood how a small piece of metal could hold meaning beyond its size.

This one would carry words I wanted to remember.

Buying the machine before knowing how to run it

The note led to research into CNC machines and fly presses.

In January 2020, I ordered a SYIL X7 CNC mill.

I didn’t know anything about machining at the time. Buying it was a leap of faith, followed by a substantial obligation to learn.

Before it arrived, the Army sent me on what would become my final deployment, lasting 13 months.

About a month after I left, the mill showed up on a semi. I hired a rigger to move it into my shop.

Then it sat there in cosmoline for the next year while I was away.

I had bought a machine to help make an idea real. For the time being, both would have to wait.

Coming home and learning the work

When I returned in November 2021, I enrolled in precision machining school.

I needed to learn how to be a machinist, not just how to own a mill.

The coin idea gave that learning a direction. I wanted to make the dies, work out the process, and turn the designs into something I could hold in my hand.

There were mistakes. There have been plenty since.

I’ve kept refining the techniques, learning what works, and changing what doesn’t. “Fail forward” is easy to say. In the shop, it means looking at what happened and figuring out what to do differently next time.

Two coins and a hike

By the time I retired from the Army in 2023, I had made my first two coin designs: “This Too Shall Pass Away” and “Zero F*cks Given.”

Both were part of what I brought to my retirement ceremony. “This Too Shall Pass Away” was the coin I gave to my mentors.

Usually, it’s the colonel giving a coin to the person retiring. I wanted to give something to the people who had helped me along the way.

I had spent much of my career in the field, teaching and training tactical operations. So I held my retirement ceremony on a small mountaintop.

The invitation included grid coordinates.

If you wanted to attend, you had to hike up.

Two soldiers smiling together at the retirement gathering, with mountains in the background.

At my retirement in 2023. The invitation included grid coordinates and a hike.

The coins were well received. After starting with questions in a phone note, I was handing finished pieces to people who mattered to me.

Still learning

Since then, I’ve been making and selling coins, refining my work, and learning how to run a business.

That last part has been its own education.

Learning a machining process doesn’t automatically teach you how to photograph a product, explain it clearly, build a website, or help the right people find it. I’m learning those things too.

Everything I make has a personal connection to my experiences, my struggles, or something I hope to build. The website and my YouTube channels are ways of sharing that work as I go, sometimes better than others.

The original note was about making coins. It didn’t contain a plan for everything that followed.

But it gave me a place to begin.

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