Wesley Morello Found a Quarter in a Potato

Wesley Morello found a quarter in a potato.

It would have been a lot better for him if he had said nothing about it.

Wesley Morello, when it came time to marry, married a pretty girl. They moved into a house with a maple tree out front and a rose vine. Pink rose. The rose draped over the door.

One morning Wesley’s wife, who had studied about food budgeting in college, said, “Wesley, potatoes are so expensive. Now that we have a fine piece of ground out back, why don’t we raise our own potatoes? Why don’t you put some potato eyes in the ground, and in a few months we’ll have potatoes?” So Wesley did.

Wasn’t long before Wesley went to the garden and harvested a nice panful of potatoes. The twentieth one he took out of the ground was so appealing that he cut it open with his pocket knife. Guess what! It had a quarter in it! Yes, it did! There was a United States quarter right there in the middle of that big potato. Wesley gave a loud whoop and ran to tell the news. He told his wife and he told it in the town and he told it in the county.

Within a couple of hours everyone roundabout knew that Wesley Morello had found a quarter in a potato.

Life went on. Wesley had children. Fine human beings who accomplished much. Every time they won a contest, or went to war, or drained a swamp, or built a bridge, people said, “Say, that’s Wesley Morello’s boy. You remember, he’s the man who found a quarter in a potato.”

When Wesley caught the biggest fish in the lake, people said, “Oh, yes, Wesley Morello—the fellow who found a quarter in a potato!”

When he died, I’m sorry to tell it—I’m glad Wesley wasn’t there to hear it—but guess what the bishop said? You’re right. He said, “Wesley Morello … sixty-nine years old … born of good parents … lived among us all his life … had seven fine children … leaves a good wife and all those children, an admirable posterity … known far and wide as the man who found a quarter in a potato.”

I’m here to tell what Wesley would say himself, if he were alive to say it. If you ever find a quarter in a potato, keep still about it.

What we do lives with us.

—Maggie Smith

Art by Phyllis Luch