My earliest years were in WW2 England, a dismal place where food and living accommodations were in short supply and where a caste system would have sentenced me to a life in the slums were it not for my escape to Canada with my parents on a noisy North Star aircraft, in 1952. Enroute, we landed in Iceland in the midst of a magnificent Aurora Borealis display. I can still vividly recall the feeling of my nostrils pinching together as we deplaned in the dead of winter near the North Pole.
My teen years were spent in Toronto, where we had weekly nuclear drills in school (we would all crouch down under our desks!), and where the boys seemed to have one thing on their minds, and the girls who succumbed to the pressure and "went all the way" and got pregnant were instantly shunned by both boys and girls. Abortion was a dirty word back then, done in filthy back rooms by quacks and users. My in-bred English sense of fair play bridled at this state of affairs, but girls were not activists in that decade, so I said and did nothing. I emerged unscathed into the sixties when a breath of fresh air blew through the western world. Girls did become activists, Kennedy ruled in Camelot, love was in the air, and Dr. Henry Morgentaler began his crusade for abortion rights in Canada. It was a hard fight, but he prevailed, and thanks to jury nullification, was acquitted many times by peers who believed that a person should have control over her own body.