by Anonymous
I was at the corner
grocery store buying some early potatoes... 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 Mr. Miller
(the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you
today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine,
thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look
good'
'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?' asked Mr. Miller.
'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', said Miller.
'Here 'tis. She's a
dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmm mmm,
only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you
have a red one like this at home?' the store owner
asked.
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 Mr. Miller had died. They were
having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted
to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary
we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to
offer whatever words of comfort we could.
'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'. Mr. Miller told the boy.
'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 red marbles, 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, when they come on their
next trip to the store.'
I left the store smiling
to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I
moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the
boys, and their bartering for marbles.
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...all very
professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing
composed and smiling 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 reminded her of the story from
those many years ago and what she had told me about her
husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she
took my hand and led me to the casket.
'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 exquisitely shined red
marbles.
The Moral: We will not
be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not
measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take
our breath.
Your keys found right
where you left them.
I
IT'S NOT WHAT YOU GATHER,
BUT WHAT YOU SCATTER THAT TELLS WHAT KIND OF
LIFE YOU HAVE LIVED!
