[Rhodes22-list] Fw: Pea story

[Russell Miller]

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Sent: Thursday, September 29, 2005 3:55 PM
Subject: Pea story



 
Good morning, everyone.    This is a great story.   TC

Pea story 

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.

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. 

Send this to the people you'll never forget. If you 
don't send it to anyone, it means you are in too much 
of a hurry