My sister-in-law sent me this enjoy!!
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
> 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 (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.
> The 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
If it weren’t for the Earth’s atmosphere — if our planet were more like the Moon or Mercury — our planet’s typical temperature would be 255 Kelvin (-18 °C / 0 °F), or well below freezing. We’re not a frozen world, of course: the cloud cover, water vapor, methane and carbon dioxide, among other gases, keep our world about 33 °C (59 °F) warmer than it would be otherwise.
An expected reply! has nothing to do with the story at all! except for one word.
I love that little story...
This is beautiful