But at least he was buried with all his marbles... :-)
> Red 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 over-hearing 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. > > Send this to the people you'll never forget. > > If you don't send it to anyone, it means you are in too much of a hurry, and > that you've probably forgotten your friends > > > -Ben > > ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| Archives: http://www.houseoffusion.com/cf_lists/index.cfm?forumid=5 Subscription: http://www.houseoffusion.com/cf_lists/index.cfm?method=subscribe&forumid=5 Signup for the Fusion Authority news alert and keep up with the latest news in ColdFusion and related topics. http://www.fusionauthority.com/signup.cfm Unsubscribe: http://www.houseoffusion.com/cf_lists/unsubscribe.cfm?user=89.70.5
