A story to brighten your day!

While 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 potatoes.

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 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 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.