I had gray hair since I was 16 years old; I noticed one long, solitary gray hair in the top of my head, every so slightly hidden underneath fluffy dark brown curls and I was oddly amazed. Every month or so after the first pluck, two or three others, mysteriously, appeared to replace the first. My plucking strategy worked rather well for several decades. However, upon approaching 40, instead of a few errant hairs scattered throughout my curls, I was confronted much more than a few strands. No longer content with popping up in the middle of my head, the gray demons gathered along the edges of my hair, prominent, as though they not only belonged in the same territory as their dark brown sisters, but were the new rulers. I decided I would not go quietly into that good night and welcomed dye like a drowning man welcomes a life-preserver, determined to fight and wage war against the unwelcome intruders until I could fight no more.