Posted by TerryS (24.24.79.72) on November 16, 2000 at 17:05:32:
3 red marbles
To ponder...
During the waning years of the depression in a small south eastern
Idaho community, I used to stop by Brother Miller's roadside stand for
farm-fresh produce as the season made it available.
Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used,
extensively. One particular day Brother Miller was bagging some
new potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature,
ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas.
I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I
couldn't help overhearing the conversation between
Brother Miller and the ragged boy next to me.
"Hello Barry, how are you today?"
"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas
.....sure look good."
"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"
"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?"
"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."
"Would you like to take some home?"
"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"
"All I got's my prize marble here."
"Is that right? Let me see it."
"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort
of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?" "Not 'zackley
.....but, almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip
this way let me look at that red marble." "Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile she said: "There are two other boys like him in our
community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain
with them for peas, apples, tomatoes or whatever. When they come back with
their redmarbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after
all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an
orange one, perhaps."
I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A
short time later I moved to Utah but I never forgot the story of this man,
the boys and their bartering. Several years went by each more rapid than the
previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in
that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Brother Miller had
died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted
to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon our arrival at the mortuary we
fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever
words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One
was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and
white shirts ... very professional looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, by her
husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the
cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue
eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and
placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left
the mortuary, awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and
mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening she took
my hand and led me to the casket. "Those three young men, that just left,
were
the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the
things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his
mind about color or size...they came to pay their debt."
"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she
confided, "but, right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in
Idaho."
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased
husband. Resting underneath were three, magnificently shiny, red marbles.
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds.