Next came the trip I made with my first boyfriend to Montreal. Three decades later, I recall that on that long-ago summer morning we proceeded north from Pittsfield in his Volkswagen, crossed the Canadian line and drove into the city. We climbed Mount Royal for a view of its namesake metropolis and wandered through the McGill University campus. After we’d checked into a hotel and sat down in a restaurant without anyone giving us a second look, I wondered if I’d been too pessimistic about…
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