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#198310 - 01/06/08 09:00 PM This Made Me Cry...
James_dup1 Offline


Registered: 04/13/02
Posts: 1332
Loc: Wyoming
When I read this it made me cry. I had a friend email it to me so y'all might have already read it. But I wanted to share it.

RED MARBLES


I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. 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 patatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

"Hello Barry, how are you today?"

"H'lo, Mr Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They
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 pe as."

"Would you like to take some home?" asked Mr. Miller.

"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" said Miller.

"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?" the store owner asked.

"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" . Mr. Miller told the boy.

"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, when they come on their next trip to the store."

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved toColorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

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 visitation 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 reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for 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.





The 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 found right where you left them.



IT'S NOT WHAT YOU GATHER, BUT WHAT YOU SCATTER THAT TELLS WHAT KIND OF
LIFE YOU HAVE LIVED!

_________________________
I have more issues than Rolling Stone!


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#198346 - 01/07/08 01:36 AM Re: This Made Me Cry... [Re: James_dup1]
Scoutvictim Offline
Guest

Registered: 06/04/07
Posts: 434
Loc: St. Louis, Missouri
The moral of the story...

for me is...

Just because someone doesn't say "thank you" when you do something nice for them, doesn't mean we should stop doing nice things.

Luv ya,
Carl

_________________________
Shawn and Ben will always be in my heart....

Happiness is like peeing your pants; Everyone can see it, but only YOU feel the warmth.

Peebles, Ohio WOR alumni, Oct. 2007

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#198511 - 01/07/08 09:17 PM Re: This Made Me Cry... [Re: Scoutvictim]
roadrunner Offline
Administrator Emeritus
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 05/02/05
Posts: 22045
Loc: Carlisle, PA
James,

What a cool story. Thanks for sharing that one with us.

Much love,
Larry

_________________________
Nobody living can ever stop me
As I go walking my freedom highway.
Nobody living can make me turn back:
This land was made for you and me.
(Woody Guthrie)

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#198595 - 01/08/08 09:03 AM Re: This Made Me Cry... [Re: roadrunner]
buzz_key Offline
Member
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 03/31/07
Posts: 635
Loc: USA
James...

Nail on the Head...AWESOME story!
Thanks for sharing that.

Buzz


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