I have lived in Montreal for almost 50 years. I arrived as a young bride just when the Front de Libération du Québec (FLQ) was beginning its campaign of terror in the service of an independent Quebec. I was pregnant with my second child when British diplomat James Cross and cabinet minister Pierre Laporte were kidnapped, and Laporte killed.
During that terrible period, my Toronto family, appalled by news reports of bombs going off in symbolic anglo and federal sites — mailboxes, train stations, the Stock Exchange — and fearful for my safety, kept wondering why we didn’t flee west. Times were good back them. My husband could easily have had a job in Toronto.
But like everyone else we knew in Montreal, we considered the FLQ a complete aberration from ordinary, peace-loving Québécois society, a kind of political virus that would pass. And it did, with the help of…
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