My Aunt Smitty was a crazy old Aunt, with no sense of humor and barely a smile for anyone. Well, except her son, the product of passion and a 2 week marriage that ended when she kicked his ass out of the house for drinking. I don't think she ever even dated again.
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And she was crazy.
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But I digress. Anyway, she was a tireless reader of Earl Stanley Gardner pulp fiction - mainly "The Case of.." titles with Perry Mason. Now, I don't know about you, but my Perry Mason memories are linked with fat, ugly and combative Raymond Burr.
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But in watching some old movies on TCM, I come to find out that Perry Mason was a slick guy, hitting on the dames and sleeping with his secretary.
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TV bored up Perry Mason until all you remember is that horrible theme song (da... da... DA.DA!!) and tubby standing by the witness box.
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Oh no, Perry was a hunk-a-hunk of burning love in the movies and in the pulpy titles.
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More than once she tried to shut me up with a "The Case of .." book, and it usually worked (I was a book fiend). I didn't realize that this was her one true passion and she was actually sharing it with me. She was still a nasty old witch, but at least she tried to share her one fun side.
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Good for her.