Have I told this story before? I probably have, but I’m gonna repeat myself, because I like this story:
When I was a kid, my father was diagnosed with cancer. During his treatment, my mother often had to be out of town with Daddy, and we had babysitters a lot. Next door to us lived a lovely older couple - he was a retired postman, she was a housewife, and the Wilkeses became very much like grandparents to us, including the standard goodies from the oven.
Well, Daddy died, we moved to a different town, and then another, and mostly lost touch with Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes. About twelve years ago, I went to Mr. Wilkes’ funeral, but I didn’t attend Mrs. Wilkes’ a couple of years later - no one there would have known me.
About 9 years ago, I was in a thrift shop about ten miles away from this little town. I found an old cookbook for a couple of bucks, started thumbing through it, and out fluttered an old envelope front (with a penciled recipe on the back,) addressed to Mrs. J. Wilkes, Route 1, (Small Town Where We Had All Lived) Georgia.
The cookbook has hand-written recipes in the margins, 7-minute icing on the flyleaf, recipes clipped from the paper and taped at the head of a chapter, splattered pages from the most popular recipes… And I now have Mrs. Wilkes’ lemon icebox and lemon meringue pie recipes, her chocolate pound cake secrets, the scribbled notes on how to make her pickled green beans, etc. And I have happy memories.