TO RED MARBLES

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 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?'
'Helllo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank you. Just admiring them peas. They
sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Getting stronger all the time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Just admiring the peas.'
'Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.

'No, sir. Got nothing to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'

'All I have is 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.


There are many times I have said, "Commonsense seems to have been lost these days..." and I do believe that, and I think a lot of common sense is born out of down time to just time about life...I remember when walking to and from school kicking a rock all the way home, and that was "think" time...have no clue why I was usually walking alone when I had 3 siblings...but I don't think the kids today get that down time, to just think, daydream, imagine...I think their lives are so full of things to do, computer gizmos, sports, and other activites, and certainly they don't just walk places, they might get kidnapped, so they are dropped off and picked up....so sad, and you wonder what the future minds will be able to create, given they rarely daydream....oh well, back to the story....also, reading this I think we've lost a sense of cleverness...a cousin to common sense....to think beyond to lessons we could teach, without the pupil knowing it....

I think I will go daydream now...figure out some new ideas....create....imagine the possibilities (as Mary Engelbreit would say)....