FREESTONE PAST/PRESENT
J. R. (Sonny) Sessions

CHRISTMAS & MEMORIES
By P. D. Browne

  The more I know about this kind and inspiring man the more I regret 
any problem I may have caused him during my school years This was 
written in the dark days shortly after the Japanese attack on Pearl 
Harbor before he departed Fairfield for Baylor University which more 
appropriate for him. He truly loved Freestone County, its people and 
the property he speaks of here, Fryer Springs that located about three 
miles east of Fairfield and still in the family. I think this appropriate for 
the season as Mr. Browne a very religious man.
  “Christmas and Memories by P.D. Browne”
  A delightful day was Christmas with home and family, warmth and 
color, sweetness and mirth. Santa Claus had been extravagant with the 
children, the wife was all out of energy and cheer, and the double-length 
table threatened to sag, with the abundance of appetizing food.
    Outside the air was bracing, the sunshine golden and inviting.
  It was a day for giving extra thanks to the Heavenly Father for the 
many unmerited favors of well being. But the passing of the day 
brought a hunger for some contact with happy yesterdays, days that 
linger in memory or in stories told long ago.
  In fancy I could see a gathering of the lost one’s who had loved me and 
loved each other in those years that are no more. So to a hallowed place 
I took myself alone.
  What a lovely place of silence, obvious desolation and imaginary 
charm. Hills of sand and cedars, the old home of my mother’s childhood 
was a place of decaying logs and stagnant springs. The laughter and 
hardships, the love and tenderness, the big cedars and crepe myrtle of 
the last half of the nineteenth century were now fast becoming a part of 
the legend of the pioneers. 
  At this place, one of my great grandfathers had settled ninety years 
before. Here another great grandfather came and died. Here my 
maternal grandfather, after the Civil War, came prospecting and 
remained to work and win my cultured, spirited little grandmother. 
Here my father came to woo and wed my mother. These, my people, 
parts of my own self decades ago, had toiled, sacrificed, suffered, 
laughed, loved and reared their children in honorable simplicity and 
Christian faith. So vitally were they a part of the land and the trees, and 
for so long a time, it seemed unbelievable their earthly departure could 
have separated them from it all.
  Wishing that their untrammeled spirits might come again to the 
familiar scenes of their earthly joys on Christmas day, I walked as if 
they were with me among the leafless pin oak’s, breathing deeply of the 
sweet, clean air above the hills, and enjoying the brilliant redbirds at 
play among the aromatic green cedars. From a beautiful yaupon bush I 
broke a few small branches of red berries and green leaves to carry with 
me back to the old hearthstone, and to the headstones of peaceful 
graves.
  About the crumbling old fireplace, dried oak leaves had collected and 
with them I built a tiny fire at sundown. As its scented odors spread 
about me I thought of holy incense and sweet communion with those 
who gave me life and loved me without measure. In the quiet of that 
moment a quiet benediction fell upon my soul and I thanked God for 
deathless love and the blessed promise of life eternal with our loved ones 
beyond the years”.