I called her “Aunt B” but not in any sarcastic way, for she gave me a gift I will always treasure.
She was nothing like the Mayberry matriarch at all. Not at 35 years old with abounce in her walk and a figure that caught the eye — and threatened toblacken it — of every man who entered the downtown Birmingham library where she ran the reference section and taught creative writing at night.
And unlike Sheriff Taylor’s aunt, my Aunt B had raven hair, worn in a style Inow see silhouetted on expensive cameos, caught