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My first recollection of knowing, first of all, that my Dad was a doctor is about the time I was three and my Dad took my tonsils out. And then I realized what a doctor really was, and that's really my first recollection.

Around that time I also remember a black bag and I used to carry it in for him and I would say to him, "how come it's so heavy, Daddy? How come that bag is just so heavy?" And he told me, "there's lots of babies to be born yet, Laney." And then when I was about five or six I remember seeing that bag open! And I said, "Daddy, there are no babies in there, you're just fooling me." And then he said, "well, no, Laney, sometime you'll come up to the hospital with me."

So, anyway, we went up to the hospital and in the nursery, the new hospital, there was a stork and it had a little place for hanging a baby in it, and I never said anything to Daddy, but I thought "Aha, I know now!" There was lots pipes in that nice new hospital and the ventilation kind of went up that way, and I kinda figured that opened and just dropped them down. Anyway, that was one of my early memories.

And, now, speaking of babies. I often remember that Dad was always on matcases. And I didn't know what a matcase was, and I wasn't really old enough to wonder what a matcase was but Dad was always on a matcase. And I remember saying to my friends when my Dad wasn't home, "oh, he's probably on a matcase."  I eventually found out it's a maternity case. But there were lots of babies born.

As I grew up, I'd wait for Dad in his white Volkswagen during all times, in all kinds of weather; it never failed him and it rarely ever got stuck. During that time I can remember as well that you had to go to Central to get through on the telephone. And I remember Dad always said to me, "Elainey, it's a private line, and people may have to get ahold of the doctor, you don't be on that line very long." He had talked with one of the operators, and talking awhile and I can remember Mrs. Kelly came on, "alright, Elainey, you've had your two minutes now." And she'd unplug you.

I only remember one holiday with Dad--it's usually when the General would come in, he would take a course so that he could keep up on things, and Mom would sometimes go and join him at the end and they'd have a few things together. I remember when he took a course about an electro-cardiogram and then they got a machine here and everybody thought that was really great that Dad knew how to read them.

They had many conventions in the Okanagan here and Dad used to say, "well, they have 12 to 15 doctors between Revelstoke and the border and in order for them to be able to keep up they would have many conventions either in Vernon, or Kelowna, or Penticton." And Dad really felt it was important to keep up the course. During those years Dad was chairman of the school board and I remember many, many times he came home very, very late; but he also thought education was really important.

I can't remember what year it was that Dad quit having office hours on Saturday night; I don't know how many of you can remember that, but we had the time that Dad had, and he had office hours on Saturday night. But old George Rands...Barbara Rands Nadrozny was working for Dad in the new office and old "Wrap Around" said to Barb, "tell Dr. Kope I'd like to see him at 7 o'clock on Saturday night, he can come to the house." But Dad wasn't having office hours anymore. She said, "no, Grandpa, you have to make an appointment now with the doctor. You can't just tell him to come to the house." And, anyway, Barb told Dad the story and, needless to say, at 7 o'clock on Saturday night Dad went to see old Grandpa Rands.

In the early fifties, Dad received a medal for staying home from the war. He tried to go to war and he thought he got to go because there was a doctor who was handicapped and couldn't--he had an artificial leg--and couldn't go. But in the end that didn't work out. Two doctors in each province were given medals for staying home and our Dad was one of them, which was a real honour for him. It came from the Queen of course and he received it.

The other memory I have of Dad is of course Dr. Helvrin and Dad working together. And when Dad would go to Armstrong he would always fill the car up with the Indians as he went along 'cause he knew them all and they'd put their thumb out and Dad would always have a car full by the time he got to Armstrong. And another car full on the way back.

We have two green blankets in one of our cars and I said to my husband now, "you know you really should value those because those come from the early ambulance in Enderby." Our Dad's car was the ambulance for many years and we always had those blankets in the car to put over the seats or whatever and they're old blankets, and they're still good and we still have them.

Now, speaking of lots of deliveries, Dad told me that he kept track of the deliveries up until 2000 after that he didn't keep track. So he delivered over 2000 babies, one set of triplets, the Lopaschuck triplets. Our Dad, as far as I'm concerned, was extremely dedicated to Enderby and loved his patients--almost more than his family. I remember one Christmas, Mom had bought Dad a green recliner, and she had gotten it shipped to the neighbours. Dad came home (he always went twice a day to the hospital), and he said, "Well, I don't have to go out tonight. Unless something happens--I've already been to the hospital--I'm going to be able to stay home." And Mom kind of rolled her eyes and thought, "Well, I was counting on you going to the hospital." Anyway, at about 9 o'clock the phone rang and finally someone had fallen and broken her hip, so Dad HAD to go. And so we brought the chair in for Dad.

Another little story was--most of you remember Mr. Morris--when we were setting out for Christmas dinner and Dad was actually saying grace and the phone was ringing and he cut it short and ran to the phone. And Mr. Morris had said to Dad, "now, which pill do I take?" and Dad told him which pill and came back to the table and had just nicely gotten seated and the phone started ringing AGAIN. So Dad went back and he said, "do I take it with milk or water." And Dad said, "you take it with whatever type of liquid you chose."

Another cute little story that a lot of people got a kick out of in Enderby was when Dad had an office on the highway where McLeod's is now, I believe. Our dog, Chipper, slept on the doorstep of the Ladies entrance at the hotel--and most of you know my father didn't frequent that place--and a lot of people said they wondered when Dr. Kope had time to go there. A lot of talk because of the dog sitting on the doorstep.

My mother used to get quite frustrated because people would come to the house at like 10 o'clock in the morning and ask if Dr. Kope was there. And she used to say, "I just wonder what in the world they think your Dad would be doing home at 10 o'clock in the morning." Dad was usually at the hospital by about 7.

Our Dad was generally called Dr. Kope: when my Mom would leave a note for him, she would write "Dr. Kope" on the top and then whatever the message was. But there were a few people in town that called him other things, like the Baird Brothers always called him, "hi, Doc, how ya doin'?" And nobody else that I know ever called him Doc - to his face. Another person called him "killerful". "How's killer today?" I don't know if he ever said that to his face though.

Just not long before Dad retired, he was asked to come to the Chamber of Commerce dinner and - I'm not sure if they told him exactly what all was going to go on - I guess that they were going to honour him in some way, and Dad had said, "I'm sure nobody will show up." Well, then they arrived and I came up for it as well - it was the only time I can honestly say that I ever saw my Dad  speechless. He stood there and he was very, very overwhelmed by the response and very emotional and he realized the thank you and the feeling that a lot of people in Enderby had for him.

After Dr. Kidstone came things changed a lot in our home for us as well. Dad found it very difficult to be replaced and so he used to say, "I can't even answer the phone on my day off because I can't say 'no'. I can't tell them to go to another doctor when they've been my patients for years and years and years." And when he was actually going to retire he swore me to secrecy, he said, "Laney, you don't tell anyone 'cause all my regulars will be in for their yearly."

Elaine (Kope) Makortoff
Enderby Museum 1995