Price Yourself Right and Red Marbles

I was emailed the following story which I liked - even though it’s a little hokey - it’s still good to be reminded that generosity makes the world go round and that some things in life are priceless; it’s not always all about the money.

John was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. John noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean,hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas. John paid for his potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh greenpeas. Pondering the peas, he couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to him.
"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 ared 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 John. 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."
John left the store smiling, impressed with this man. A short time later John moved to Colorado, but he never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by until he had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while he was there he learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing his friends wanted to go, he agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary they fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort they could. Ahead of them 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. John told her who he was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told him about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took his hand and led him 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 :
Do you want to be remembered for how much money you made or for your kind deeds?

Perhaps an even better question is to ask yourself: How can you be remembered for doing both?

PS. As is often the case I received this email without a credit to its author whom I would like to acknowledge if only I knew who he/she was.