a beautiful story

#1 · September 24, 2003, 12:57 pm

Quote from Forum Archives on September 24, 2003, 12:57 pm
Posted by: JROBERT126 <JROBERT126@...>

A BEAUTIFUL STORY

===============================================

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 than

the previous one. Just recently I had the

occasion to visit some old friends in that

Idaho community and while I was there I

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.

unknown

Posted by: JROBERT126 <JROBERT126@...>

A BEAUTIFUL STORY

===============================================

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 than

the previous one. Just recently I had the

occasion to visit some old friends in that

Idaho community and while I was there I

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.

unknown