Two days later, Mother and I were sitting in the lounge of the hotel in a long narrow room with writing tables and leather couches. Long elegant windows were to my left. The hotel staff began moving furniture out without saying a word as I carefully penned my undying love to my teenage boyfriend (he was a cutie). Mother sat reading a novel as I wrote. The staff finally got to her couch and my writing table and we looked up to ask if we should move. They said how sorry they were but they had to make room for President De Gaul’s reception line. We therefore moved on.
Dad returned from his business meeting that evening and said, “We won't be able to return home through Detroit, the border is closed,” and “I have the two of you booked for a trip to see an Indian Reservation some 150 miles out of Ottawa.” Mother and I looked a little surprised, and Mother asked, “Whatever did you think we would find of interest there, dear?” Dad replied, “Being out of the city because they are threatening to assassinate De Gaul if he insists on coming to Ottawa with his “Vive Quebec Libre” speech. She turned to me and said, “I think you'll find the crafts interesting and we'll find the fresh air invigorating.”
We finished our trip to Ottawa and headed east to cross at Niagara Falls (which was really cool, but unplanned). I had to wait to mail my next testimony of undying love to the love of my life until we reached Watertown, because the damned French were bombing mail boxes.
Ah, yes, the summer of ‘67. I never did get to see the Worlds Fair Exhibition in Montreal, but I lived history and a couple of weeks as an ex-pat in Canada.
This is the first time I've ever written “What I Did Over My Summer Vacation”. In 1967, nobody cared. ;-)