Welcome to the official website of best-selling author Linda Kupecek.


If any people in southeast Calgary, specifically a suburb known as Copperfield, or Coppertown, or something like that, which in my mind is more like Copperhead Snake, saw a redheaded woman of a certain age, weeping, and driving her little Yaris up and down streets in a nonsensical and desperate manner today, you should know it was ME and not some alien visitor.

My beloved Doctor Laura has moved her practice from a perfectly respectable location in the southwest of the city, to an address that I could barely find on the map. I didn’t even know that area was settled!

After all, I am a person who still visits the drugstore at the strip mall where my mother taught me to drive decades ago, when it was nothing but an expanse of concrete. I drive past the high school I attended years ago, almost every day, and don’t even notice it.

So it was a Big Shock to me to discover that if I wanted medical care from a doctor with charm and sensibility, I was going to have to brave the wilderness.

My little Yaris almost went into shock itself, as we drove past fields of golden construction vehicles, only to end up, after a circuitous route through mounds of dirt, in a development which consists of identical matchbox townhouses on identical streets, with absolutely nothing to distinguish one road from another. Think Stepford Lanes. I had been given faulty instructions, by humans, and also by the Google map system, which cleverly obliterated part of the address and and sent me in circles in this godforsaken development. I drove around and around, up and down the same streets, trying to find the stupid 7-11 and Shell Station which Marked The Spot, and finally became a demented woman blubbering behind the wheel. A delightful sight, which no doubt frightened small dogs, children and even horses, if any had been around. (Not such a farfetched idea, as I am sure this spot of hell was prairie just a few years ago.)

Who would want to live here? I pondered between cascades of tears. Such anonymity. And so far from civilization.

Of course, I was almost an hour late for my appointment, but luckily, my doctor finds me amusing (plus she is very kind) and saw me anyway. And then, of course! I got lost on the way home, and after nearly getting killed by road rage drivers on Deerfoot Trail (a freeway notorious for its ill mannered drivers) accidentally landed on the dreaded Blackfoot Trail, where only by a wild flash of fortune did I manage to exit on a road that might lead to civilization as I know it.

I sound like a big kvetcher, and I am. Just saying there is no point in going to the doctor if you nearly pass out from a panic attack on the way.

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You can tell you are getting old when you start lamenting the loss of manners in society. Of course, I was kvetching about this in my twenties, so maybe I should revise that statement.

Today, after a brief foray to Dollarama, I departed the store, holding the door open for a young guy with a baby carriage. He didn’t thank me, but what the hey, I figure that if I were wrestling a brute of a baby carriage (with dear cargo inside) I wouldn’t have time for the niceties either.

I was still holding the door when a young Middle Eastern woman with heavy makeup (think Elizabeth Taylor in her Cleopatra days) zoomed through it.

“You are welcome!” I called after her, cheerily.

Then, as I was still stupidly holding the door, perhaps still wondering why nobody had acknowledged that I was acting as ad hoc doorman/person, three young kids brushed past.

“You are very welcome!” I called after them, an a pathetic attempt to get some manners out of somebody, anybody, anywhere.

Just as I was about to give up hope, a white-haired man with a genial, round face (maybe Santa Claus on a break) walked through the door, and, obviously having seen the previous exchanges, made a slight bow, made eye contact and said, very gracefully, “Thank you very much.”

“You are very welcome,” I smiled back.

See. There is always hope.

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