Old Age Day by Day September 20, 2013

I just came back from a nice walk with a friend.  We talked art for the first part of the time, and as she is the one who raved about "The Impressionists on the Water", I happily shared my enthusiasm.  We usually talk art, politics and catch up about our families and friends.  I'm so grateful for such friends.

I'm getting my hair cut today.  I'm back and forth, and will be until the last minute, about whether to cut it a little or a lot.  I like being able to pull it back and up, but it looks horrible down.  I may have to shorten it, as I'm reminding myself of witches and Halloween every time I look in the mirror.  I wish I was better about getting my hair tame, but it's hopeless.  I'll let my haircutter decide, no doubt.  She's been with me through long and short.

I finished a fascinating book about Alex Dumas, the real Count of Monte Cristo.  Alexandre Dumas, his son, based a lot of his tales on experiences of his father, a black general who was a count because of his father, who lived with his mother, a slave, in what is now the Dominican Republic.  In France, his father was a legend militarily, and rose to command armies and campaigns, but was on the wrong side of Napoleon, and ended up losing his health at a young age, being held captive in what is now Italy.  The parallels between his father and the suffering of the Count of Monte Cristo are close, and maybe partially explain the passion with which the writer told his tales.  As a kid I adored "The Count of Monte Cristo", "The Man in the Iron Mask" and "The Three Muskateers".  I was a romantic, and the French were my cup of tea.  I only loved Victor Hugo's novels better.  I should reread them, but so far I've only reread "Les Miserables".  It has absolute greatness.  But "The Count" is a very guilty pleasure, and I'm sure I'd enjoy it again.  It was interesting to discover that right before the French Revolution, France was the least racist place on the planet, and people of color, as they were called, had many rights and rose to distinguished heights.  Napoleon killed all that, but for a brief time people like the Dumas family were free to be full citizens.  Yet, as the book says, there is still no statue of Dumas the father, though every other general in French history has one somewhere in Paris.