Three Marbles
During the waning years of the
depression in a small southeastern
stand for farm-fresh
produce as the season made it available. food and
money were still extremely scarce, and barter was used
extensively.
On one particular day, as Brother
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. Upon paying
for my potatoes I move to
leave, 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 Brother 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?"
"Nosir. jus' admirin'
them peas."
"Would you like to
take some home?"
"Nosir. 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 aggie--best taw around here."
"Is that right? Let
me see it."
"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue 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 taw."
"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
orange perhaps."
I left the stand, smiling to myself,
impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to
man and the boys--and
their bartering.
Several years went by each more rapid
than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends
in that
knowing my friends
wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.
Upon our 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
short haircuts dark
suits and white shirts
obviously potential or returned Mormon missionaries. They approached Sister
Miller standing smiling and
composed 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, placed his
own warm hand over the
cold pale hand in the casket and left the mortuary awkwardly wiping his eyes.
As our turn came to meet Sister
Miller, I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the
marbles. Eyes
glistening she took my
hand and led me to the casket.
"This is an amazing
coincidence." she said. "Those three boys that 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
magnificent shiny
red marbles.
By W.E. Petersen