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Permalink Reply by Giancarlo Fusco on March 19, 2013 at 12:08pm

In response, I'd like to share this story I recently read:

IT'S WHAT YOU SCATTER

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?'

'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. 

Permalink Reply by Humberto J. Centurion on March 19, 2013 at 5:49pm

That story is truly inspiring, thank you for sharing it. It teaches us that sometimes the greatest treasure we can aquire in life is the appreciation of those we treated kindly.

Permalink Reply by Larry on March 20, 2013 at 1:18am

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING THIS! The little things do mean a lot!

Permalink Reply by Nick H on March 20, 2013 at 7:08am

I wish I could find the story I wanted to share online but cannot remember where to find it. Anyway, the story by Guancarlo reminded me of it.

A woman wrote to a magazine we have back home that is geared towards those who have moved away and want to share stories about the home they miss and stories from their childhood.

Her story was about her favourite Christmas in Newfoundland. It was Christmas when she was little and it didn't start very good. It was Christmas Day and her parents were fighting. The gist of the fight was that her father lost his job a short while before and here on Christmas Day he had to admit that there was nothing under the tree for the family. In other words, no Christmas for the kids. After her parents fought a bit, her Dad, completely defeated left the house. She and her siblings didn't know if Dad would ever come home and were very upset. But magically, after a short while, Dad returned carrying a bag full of wonderful gifts for her and the family. A Christmas miracle! Years later her father told her what happened after he left the house. He wandered around the neighbourhood in the snow completely distraught until he happened to see that one business was still open. A small local pharmacy. he went in and saw that the pharmacist/owner was working alone and after a short chat he ended up sharing all his woes with the pharmacist about how he had no money and how he has failed his family for failing to provide any gifts for them.

Upon hearing of his plight, the pharmacist told him that he had plenty of Christmas gifts that were still unsold and told the man to take them for his wife and kids. Furthermore, the pharmacist wouldn't accept anything for them.

The woman who wrote the story knew that, being the owner of the pharmacy, these gifts came out of that pharmacist's own pocket, and considering he was working alone on Christmas Day despite having a young family himself, that it was truly a generous gift and one that must have come as bit of a personal sacrifice from the pharmacist. It gave her a great Christmas, saved her family, and she never forgot his kindness.

I, my mother, and my siblings read this story in the magazine which was only written more than 20 years after the event itself and what amazed us was that the pharmacist in question was my father and he never told any of us about it before.

Thankfully my Dad is still with us, and after 48 years in business, is still working up to 7 days a week in his pharmacy but considering what little stories I have already been told by some customers over the years of my father's kindness I can only imagine what ones will appear once the people involved will no longer have to worry about embarrassing their benefactor.