In 1945 in Bay Roberts, Canada, and a 12 year – old boy saw something in a shop window that set his
heart racing. But the price –five dollars –was far beyond Reuben Earle’s means. Five dollars –was far
beyond Reuben Earle’s means. Five dollars would buy almost a week’s groceries for his family.
Reuben couldn’t ask his father for the money. Everything Mark Earle made fishing, Reuben’s mother,
Dora stretched like elastic to feed and clothe their five children.
Nevertheless, he opened the shop’s weathered door and went inside. Standing proud and straight in
his flour- sack shirt and washed out trousers, he told the shopkeeper what he wanted, adding, “but I
don’t have that money now. Can you please hold it for me?”
“I will try,” the shopkeeper smiled. “Folks around here don’t usually have that kind of money to spend
on things. It should keep for a while.”
Reuben respectfully touched his worn cap and walked out into the May sunlight. The bay rippled in a
freshening wind that ruffled his short hair. There was purpose in his loping stride. He would raise the
five dollars and not tell anybody.
Hearing the sound of hammering from a side street, Reuben had an idea.
He ran towards the sound and stopped at a construction site. People built their own homes in Bay
Roberts using nails purchased in burlap sacks from a local factory. Sometimes the sacks were
discarded in the flurry of building and Reuben knew he could sell them back to the factory for five
cents apiece.
That day he found two sacks, which he took to the rambling wooden factory and sold to the man in
charge of packing nails. The boy’s hand tightly clutched the small five- cent pieces as he ran the two
kilometers home.
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