the red marbles

[jedneck]

During the waning years of the depression in a small Southeastern
> 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 early
> 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 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 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.
>
> Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind
> deeds.
Found this on another site and thought many hit.e would like it

[Bigbob]

Great story Jed, and so true ( the moral)

[Venture Rider]

Damn, just got some dust in my eye.

[MitchyBourbon]

I was just slicing some onions. Nice story.

[heartcut]

Nice. Yeah, me too.

[Saltbush Bill]

No dust, no onions, It was just one of those kind of stories, and so true.

[rumbuff]

Thanks for that Jedneck, I love the chances to be reminded of what's important.

[Soft batch]

Thanks. Dusty here too.

[jus teasin]

Kinda puts a lump in the throat

JT

[Windy City]

I find it very interesting the little things like morals and doing the right thing that will bring a tear to on otherwise strong and worn man. I can not help but get weld up reading this being on both sides of this story. All I have to say is thank God for those that know who to look out for.
Windy City

[moosemilk]

Think I put too much heads in this batch, got my eyes watering.

Great post, jedneck. Got me thinking of a few people who sadly passed, but touched my life. Thank you for making me remember them. All good memories.