Jerry's Haven N Tell Red Marbles

Babs Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me.
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 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 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 away.

They say it takes a minute to find a special person,
An hour to appreciate them, A day to love them,
But an eternity to never forget them.