b'MEMORIES OF TEXAS FLAT a week or sometimes every day. For some reason, I wasknow people talk about the "good ol` days." I was born in the November 24, 1982, by White Bird always drawn to this street. Depression days. To me, that was not the good ol\' days. What This is not only a memory of Texas Flat, but its also a tributewas the good ol` days was peace, the stillness, the way we could to the greatest lady I have ever known or ever will know.While living at the fairgrounds where the golf course is nowsit around at night and talk. Then you could hear yourself think Payson was blessed by God when Miss Julia Randall camelocated, we stayed with Chet Farris, the original White Bird.or almost hear a pin drop. This part I loved. My version of the here. She taught school here for 50 years. Those of you whoChet was crippled from the time he was a young man whilegood ol\' days was sitting close to an old wood stove listening to do not know her cannot imagine the "love/dedication" of thisin the war. He was an Indian scout and he had been shot init pop and crackle while having a good ol cup of coffee, being woman. Not only for the little children but for all mankind -the spine. Most all his body was so stiff he could only moveable to smell the wood burning, and excuse the expression, not absolute dedication through love. Love, ninety-nine percentfrom his knees down and his arms. Yet he was a great artisthaving a TV blaring in your ear. That was the good ol days.of us do not know what this word means. Granted, whenand he played mandolin and violin. He spent most of his we see love in its purest form in someone else, there is notime alone, painting or playing music. I cant keep from getting carried away when I look back mistaking its identity. This unmistakable "vision of love" isat the lovely days of yesteryear. One could feel the snow Miss Julia Randall. Like all little boys, I thought Miss RandallSometimes at night, after going to bed, you could hear himand smell the crispness in the air. When we woke in the was "mean." If she was, l wish now the world we are living inplaying his mandolin. He would go out and prop a chairmornings and looked out there wasn`t a sound.Now its so had a lot of mean, lovely people just like her. Oh God, howup against a tree to play. I seem to know the loneliness thisnoisy it almost knocks the snow off the fence posts. All I can we need them. l never got to tell her what was really on myman was experiencing as he would play. l could feel everysay is if you could have lived in Texas Flat or any place near, mind. Now I can share with you my most inward feelings. note he played. He played one tune called the Indian Waltz.your Texas Flat would have left a mark of beauty in your It must have come from his tribe. He was a Sioux. mind that God is the only one who can produce.I know the Town of Payson named a school in her honor. I know she received some worldly goods. Yet I cant helpIn those days there was peace and quiet in Payson. The soundTurns out I already know where my Texas Flat is. I suspect feeling there are more things to be bestowed on this ladyof his music could be heard for a mile. I\'d lay there and almostIll just leave it at that. Billie went ahead and got it all said than just mere worldly honors. Miss Randall taught schoolcry listening to him play. Then I\'d drop off to sleep. Youfor now. in Star Valley and Payson. She taught my mother, Henrietta Ezell, her first and second-grade years, she taught me myOld Oak Tree first, second and third-grade years and would have taught my children and their children that is if I would have had any grandchildren. l used to go to church in Payson. MissOf all the places I have ever lived If we would only listen, I\'d sit and watch the kids swim by,Randall was always there. Miss Randall set an example for us all. We all fell short of that example - we know who we are. lAs a child and as a man, And take the time to see, Dream of things to seeknow l am one who fell short of that goal. Only worse thanIt seems I was led here, We would build a paradise And a future that is beautiful,most. This is not a judgment, its a factual statement. Judging is when you say, That person is worse than I. Someday, ifBy Gods Holy Hand. Beneath an Old Oak Tree. Beneath an Old Oak Tree.God will allow me the time, there will be a playground andParadise is all around us, I did when I was growing up, No one needs a chapel,park dedicated to Miss Randall. All we can do is say, Thank you and may God bless you forever. We love you." If we take time to look As happiness, I did seek, Or a fancy place to be,God gave us ears to hear with Down in back of the old dance hall, All one needs is faith in GodMEMORIES OF TEXAS FLATJanuary 5, 1983, by White Bird And eyes to read His book. Down on Tonto Creek. And a beautiful Old Oak Tree.I may have lived in various places in Payson in the late 30sBY WHITE BIRD 1982 BILL HAUGHTand \'40s, yet I always came back to Texas Flat at least twice Susan Abare928-713-7472SAbare@AwardRealty.com CUSTOM HOMESSECOND HOMES PREMIUM HORSE PROPERTIES INVESTMENT & COMMERCIAL PROPERTIES HOME LOTS AMAZING NIGHT SKY NATURE WALKS ACREAGE HORSING AROUNDGROUP THERAPY OUTDOOR FUNCongress is a lifestyle.ArizonaRealCountry.com August 2019 11'