I love old neighborhoods partly because I love older people. It seems almost everywhere we’ve lived some wonderful little lady has befriended me. This sweet lady lived behind us, our backyards divided by a white picket fence. On Sundays after she got home from church she would come to the fence and give us pastries. One day she gave me this pair of pillowcases and told me she had them in her hope chest but never got married. We moved from that house many years ago and I know she’s since passed on. I’m guessing these are at least 80 years old.