Just like always, Anton and Uncle Rupert were sitting in the living room sharing a tray of fine French cheeses. Madame Marchant had sliced the cheese paper-thin. She also toasted croissants and built tiny sandwiches for the boys. Uncle Rupert enjoyed his Brandy while Anton used ice water to wash down the cheese and croissant sandwiches.
They also played chess and watched football on the television while they ate.
“You know,” said Uncle Rupert, “France wasn’t just built on the backs of Kings and Generals. There’s another side, too.”
“Another side? What do you mean?”
“Some of the world’s greatest artists are French. There’s Monet. There’s Manet. There’s Pissaro. There’s Degas and Renoir, too. They painted expressive paintings, with deep, bold colors. In fact, I was thinking we could take a road trip today. What do you think?”
“I love road trips!”
“Then let’s make a day of it.”
After asking mother’s permission, Anton joined Uncle Ruprt in the little yellow hatchback. Uncle Rupert turned the ignition key. The car whirred and whined, but would not start. Uncle Rupert tried again and again, but it was no use.
“What do we do now?”
“I’ll have to see if I can borrow your mother’s car.”
Anton led the way as they returned to the house. Madame Marchant was busy in the kitchen, loading the dirty cheese plates and silverware into the dishwasher.
“That was quick. What’s wrong?”
“The car won’t start,” said Anton, “May we borrow your car for the day?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have many errands to run.”
“I guess it’ll have to wait,” said Uncle Rupert.
“Nonsense! I can take you to the train station.”
So it was settled. Madame Marchant took the boys to the train station and bid them ‘adieu’. Uncle Rupert and Anton went to the ticket counter.
“Two for Paris, please.”
They went around to the loading platform and waited. The Metro arrived in no time at all. When the doors opened, Uncle Rupert whisked Anton inside. The door closed as they found their way to their seats. Quickly, the train pulled away from the station, accelerating as it headed across the farmland towards Paris.
“It’s moving so fast!”
“Twice as fast as my car,” said Uncle Rupert.
“That’s very fast.”
The train sped along. As Anton looked to his left, he saw fields full of corn and wheat. He turned to his right and looked at the highway. He watched as the train passed both cars and cows.
Soon, the tracks elevated the train off the ground. Entering the city, the train crossed over streets and buildings. When they reached their destination, Anton and his Uncle debarked the train, stepping onto a loading platform. They went down the stairs, which led to the street-level sidewalks.
They walked a short way through the Parisian streets, coming across a bridge that overlooked the River Seine. A sidewalk led to the large palace at the other side.
“Here we are!” said Uncle.
“Where are we?”
“We’re at the Louvre!”
“The surprise trip was to the art museum?”
Uncle Rupert nodded, “I know you’ll like it.”
A crowd of people gathered in the courtyard outside the Louvre, which looked like it had two parts: The large palace and a glass pyramid.
The palace stood three stories high, was U-shaped, and encircled the pyramid.
Anton and his Uncle approached the pyramid. Anton stood beside the pyramid and looked through the glass. One floor below, people stood in line, waiting to enter the museum.
"Here we go," said Uncle Rupert.
They walked down the spiral staircase into the entryway. It was no coincidence that this was the people’s museum. Until the time of the French Revolution, the Palace only housed Kings. After the people’s uprising at Bastille, the palace was changed to a museum.
Anton and his Uncle entered the museum from below – Uncle Rupert would let Anton decide where their travels took them.
“Let’s see the Grand Gallery first.”
“First?”
“I want to see every piece of art the museum holds.”
“You have high aspirations.”
The Grand Gallery stretched a kilometer long and held 100,000 pieces of art. No art lover would imagine conquering the museum in one day. Nevertheless, where Anton went, Uncle Rupert would follow.
The long marble hall was flanked on both sides with paintings from all ages of history. People meandered as they looked at classics, neo-classics, and romantic paintings. There were also statues of famous kings and emporers.
“Look! It’s Napoleon the First!”
“It won’t be hard to find him here. He made sure many famous painters captured his image on canvas and in concrete, too.”
Anton and his Uncle continued through the Grand Gallery, through secluded rooms that were covered with paintings. Uncle Rupert stopped at his favorite. He stood there for several moments.
“Uncle?”
“Yes?”
“What’s taking you so long?”
“I’m enjoying the painting.”
“But there are too many paintings to look at just one.”
“If you run by each painting, you cannot paint that picture in your mind. You will forget it by tomorrow.”
Anton breathed a sigh.
“Do you know this painting?”
“I’ve seen pictures.”
“She’s the most famous wife of a silk merchant.”
“I know who she is. She’s Mona Lisa.”
“One of the few paintings people worldwide can name instantly, yet you are ready to dart away, like a cat searching for a fish bone.”
Anton impatiently stood next to his Uncle. After a few moments, Uncle Rupert finally moved onward. He stopped again, only a few moments later. They were in the lobby of another room. Anton knew these paintings, too. They were the impressionists.
“Stop here,” ordered Uncle Rupert.
“Why?” sighed Anton.
“Don’t ask why, just stop for a moment and look at this painting with me.”
So Anton looked at the painting.
Two haystacks sat, side-by-side, in an empty field. A clump of trees and rolling hills sat in the background.
“I don’t think its anything impressive. It’s just haystacks.”
“Just stand there and look at the painting. It’s a moment of time. The sunlight shines gently on the hills and hay. Don’t you almost feel like the time is moving, ever so slowly?”
“I guess so.”
“Well, that’s the impression that Monet and the other artists in this room were giving you. They used soft pastel colors to bring you into a moment.”
Still, Anton did not quite understand what his Uncle was saying. He just saw haystacks.
They continued on, passing from one room to another, looking at one piece of art and then another. Before they knew it, it was closing time at the Louvre.
They made their way back to the exit and climbed the stairs. It was dark outside, but the Museum’s outside lights were lit, casting the building in a pale gold light. Anton and his Uncle returned the way they came, crossing the bridge and river below. The Eiffel Tower stood on the other side of the River Seine, just as it had during Bastille.
They crossed the bridge and found the Metro. Anton watched his feet as he climbed the stairs to the loading platform. He slid his boarding ticket through the card reader before pushing through the turnstile.
The platform rumbled as the train pulled into the station. Uncle Rupert ushered Anton into the train and to their seat, just as he had done before.
Anton looked at Paris through his window. It sped by in a blur of shadows and light. It wasn’t until they reached the train station in Meaux that Anton could recognize anything. Madame Marchant was at the terminal.
She brought a thermos full of hot tea for Rupert and Anton. Anton sat in the backseat, looking at cows who gathered at the fences by the side of the road. Black pyramids lit up as the headlights threw their beams upon the haystacks, waiting to be harvested.
“How was your day?” asked his mother.
“It was perfectly fine,” he replied.
“Fine?” interrupted Uncle Rupert.
“But I think I’ll have to return, because it’s like cheese.”
“Like cheese?” laughed mother.
“Of course,” said Anton, “you cannot discover enough about cheese by one bite. You have to revisit it again and again.”
“Oh, I see,” said mother, “Luckily we have cheese waiting at home.”
So Anton and his Uncle revisited their regular place in front of the television. Meanwhile, the cat and pig slept outside and Monseuir Marchant was tucked into his bed. Uncle Rupert sliced the Camembert and offered it to Anton.
“Yes, I think we shall have to return. There are more paintings to see.”
“And a lifetime to see them,” said Uncle Rupert.
It had been, after all, a picture perfect day. The only thing that would make it perfect would be a bedtime story.
“Can I tell it this time?” asked Anton as Uncle Rupert tucked him in.
Uncle Rupert nodded.
“Once upon a time, there was a silk merchant’s wife. She didn’t smile. She didn’t frown. All she did was look at you like this.”
Uncle Rupert chuckled as he watched Anton flash a closed-lipped smile. Anton continued sharing the story with his Uncle until there was nothing left to tell. Uncle Rupert tucked him in and closed the door, leaving it open just enough to give Anton his nightlight.
Uncle Rupert drank one last snifter of Brandy and went to bed and slept. It was a very good sleep. His dreams were filled with haystacks and half-smiles.
Lasting Impressions
