A RED MARBLE During the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern Idaho community

Tending The Garden Inspirational Stories

A RED MARBLE

   During the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern
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 particular day Mr. 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 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. 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 Colorado 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 Mr. 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, 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.


   A wish for you!
   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 or shop. I wish you a day of
little things to rejoice in...the fastest line at the grocery store. A good
sing along song on the radio, your keys right where you look. I wish you a
day of happiness and perfection little bite-size pieces of perfection
that give you the funny feeling that the Lord is smiling on you, holding you so
gently because you are someone special and rare. I wish you a day of
Peace, Happiness and Joy. They say it takes a minute to find a special
person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire
life to forget them.

   Send this phrase to the people you'll never forget. . It's a short message to let
them know that you'll never forget them. If you don't send it to anyone, it
means you're in too much of a hurry and that you've probably forgotten
your friends.

   Take the time!