CafeLitMagazine

  It was late September.   A friend and I set out on a cross-border outing.   The day was intended as an excursion into what the Americans c...

In the nightmare world of the Warsaw Ghetto there was a half-starved orphan so in love with literature that when the German occupiers banned...

  I first became aware of him during a war crimes trial.   He was capital M masculine; dark, brooding, and intense.   He defended the indefe...

  As a little girl, I was fascinated by a portrait on our living room wall. The elegant woman in the portrait seemed out of place in our sha...

I must be one of the few North Americans lucky enough to have seen Alan Bates perform on stage twice in a lifetime.   The last time was in F...

When I was a child, the largest parade in North America was the Eaton’s Santa Claus parade.   Eaton’s was a department store of legend, akin...

  We were a busload of older women off on a jaunt on a hot day in July. Departing from a Montreal seniors’ center, we rode off to Mirabel, l...