My Aunt Willie Mae was a nice lady living in Tuscaloosa. I was “Hobben”, a nickname I acquired when, as a child I had begun talking. If I approached the stovetop, I would say “hobben”, meaning “hot”. I had been warned, repeatedly I suspect. “Don’t touch”.
Aunt Willie Mae married late in life. I visited often as a child and young man. Her’s was an interesting house filled with brightly colored throws made from material she acquired on visits to relatives way out west. She also had a sizable black cloth hung like walls, large enough to hold a table and four chairs. Within she held seances.
She could also pick out past relatives in photos of things, especially trees.
I liked visiting Aunt Willie Mae. She was fun and sometimes challenging, like the time she pointed out to me that you never see birds cross-mating, birds of different colors I think. Lots to think about in that.
Waiting For Charlemagne 