What's Happening

I came across this story yesterday. I don’t know the name of the author. And although it’s about Idaho decades ago, It so represents what a small town is and can be. How the smallest of acts of kindness make the biggest of differences. How leaving someone with their dignity is so important, and that a hand up is so much better than a hand out. It seemed like a story worth sharing with all of you.

A RED MARBLE

During the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller’s roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used, extensively.

One particular day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprizing 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 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 Mom?”

“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?”

“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.”

“Here ’tis. She’s a dandy.”

“I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and 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 marble.”

“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 and says to come back with a green marble or an orange one, perhaps.”

I left the stand, 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. 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 viewing that evening and 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 nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts … very professional looking.

They approached Mrs. 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 and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the funeral home wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. 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. “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.

~ Gena Robertson, Executive Director, SIRCH Community Services

SIRCH is now officially in its 30th year of operation! Amazing really!
Over the next few months, we’ll be sharing with you share some of our highlights, struggles, unexpected outcomes, the laughs, the sighs of the past 3 decades. We’ll highlight some of the people, programs, training, and partnerships SIRCH has experienced. We’ll bring you stories from the staff, board, clients, volunteers and others who have been part of the SIRCH experience. And our plan is to have a big 30th Anniversary celebration sometime next summer (don’t worry – you’re all invited).

This is a call-out to anyone who was a member of our staff, a board member, a contract worker or a program volunteer who worked or volunteered for SIRCH at any time between 1989 and now. We would love to hear from you! What was your experience like? What did you learn, who made a difference in your life, and how did you feel you contributed to SIRCH and this community? What are you doing now?

We’re also looking for anyone who was a client or participant in a program, or training program or social enterprise (including programs that have since closed or been divested). Looking back, what brought you to SIRCH and what difference did we make? How did it change your If your children were involved, tell us about them now – what are they doing? How did SIRCH impact them?

Did you partner with SIRCH in some way over the years? Do you now have one of the many programs and services that SIRCH started, or did we help you start a program? How would the community be different if SIRCH hadn’t stepped up? Or if you’re in another community, how did our programs, sponsorship, training or other services help your community?
Please contact us via email at info@sirch.on.ca, or by phone, 705-457-1742, or on Facebook, or by mail. We’d love it if you’d share your stories, and any pictures, posters, or flyers you may have of us from back in the day. And thanks for helping us celebrate 30 years!