Worth while to read this......

[fishbait]

During the waning years of the depression in a small Idaho

community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller's roadside stand for farm fresh produce as the

season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering

was used extensively. One day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for

me. 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 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.



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 right where you left them



They say it takes a minute to find a special person, An hour to

appreciate them, A day to love them, But an entire life to forget them.

[Spotted Owl]

Amen fishbait. The same good fortune back on to you and yours today and every day.

[crabbait]

A great story and a fine example. [img]graemlins/applause.gif[/img]

[Straydog]

Thank you for sharing........ [img]graemlins/applause.gif[/img]

[Pyramid]

Well worth reading.

[CHUMSALMON]

Fishbait,
Great Story! I really enjoyed reading that!
chumsalmon

[Firedog]

Fishbait, Great story, the world is a better place because of people like that and we all could learn a little from them. Thank you for sharing.

[Big Dog]

Fishbait great story well worth the read.

Big Dog

[Gun Rod Bow]

Good one Steve

[Hogmaster]

Anyone seen my marbles?

Sorry, I couldn't help it. A very inspiring story and we should all look for ways to help others while letting them maintain a sense of dignity and honor.

They say it takes a minute to find a special person, An hour to appreciate them, A day to love them, But an entire life to forget them.

<font size="2" face="verdana,arial,helvetica">Wow! This is the most profound thing I have read for quite some time.

[larryb]

great story it brought tears to my eyes

[Thumper]

Thanks Fishbait -- cool story.

[maggot]

right on

[FallRiverGuy]

Yes,
Thanks for the story.

[HOGGEMIN]

That was a heart warming story Thanks [img]graemlins/applause.gif[/img]

[skein]

Wouldn't you like to live your life so that some young men - or women - would come all the way just to lay a marble in your casket. Wow.

Skein

[rebell]

Great story fishbait. I hope you don't mind, I forwarded your story to a couple of freinds. I know they will be touched like I was.