EDWARDIAN ESTATES. It was a great looking sign made in the shape of a 4-story high, burnished bronze shield and outlined in purple and pink neon. An exclusive Residential Community for Adults. Under this line was painted what looked like a pair of crossed maces or mushrooms, it was a little hard to tell. Yearly rates available, and under that was a King Arthur-style yellow jousting helmet with a fading robin's egg blue plume. Behind the sign at the end of a potholed single-lane road were the promised Estates, a raggedy patch of corroding aluminum house trailers festooned with clotheslines, sagging TV antennas, power cables, garbage cans, faded green plastic awnings with rust-streaked supports and the usual collection of '61 Dodges, '57 Ford Galaxies and defeated Studebaker Larks that always seem to gravitate toward trailer parks. The weak washed-out Illinois winter sun didn't help a bit. . .