good one, Bill LOL -Ben
> Do you take a sunny beautiful day and turn it into something negative? > ----- Original Message ----- > From: "Nagy, Daniel J" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> > To: "CF-Community" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> > Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2003 3:45 PM > Subject: RE: Red Marbles > > > > i'm glad mr. miller didn't control my mutual fund portfolio. > > > > -----Original Message----- > > From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] > > Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2003 3:30 PM > > To: CF-Community > > Subject: Red 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 This list and all House of Fusion resources hosted by CFHosting.com. The place for dependable ColdFusion Hosting. http://www.cfhosting.com Unsubscribe: http://www.houseoffusion.com/cf_lists/unsubscribe.cfm?user=89.70.5
