King Arthur Movie Tristan

>> 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. 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?", 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 breath.