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Marbles

During the waning years of the depression in a small Idaho community, I
used to stop by Mr. 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 day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a
small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily
appraising 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 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. Hmmmmm, 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 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, perhaps."

I left the stand 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.

Several years went by, each more rapid that 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 viewing
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. 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 mentioned the
story she had told me about the marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took
my hand and led me to the casket.

"Those three young men who 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 exquisitely shined red marbles.

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.

Today ... I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ...
........ A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself
........ An unexpected phone call from an old friend
........ Green stoplights on your way to work
........ The fastest line at the grocery store
........ A good sing-along song on the radio
........ Your keys right where you left them

They say it takes a minute to find a special person, An hour to appreciate
them, A day to love them, But an entire life to forget them.


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