>
> This is very beautiful!
>
> 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 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 cou ldn'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 peas.'
>
> '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. Hmm mmm. 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 to Colorado , 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 int
> o 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 boy s 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. |
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