I was raised in Ontario and moved to Nova Scotia in the early ’70s and first heard Stan there. With one foot in Ont, and one in the “East,” it was easy to identify with Stan. The discovery of new people and places was enhanced by Stan’s music. He wrote from his heart and soul about life’s ups and downs, and he gave me an understanding I may have been otherwise oblivious to. With his music having very little airplay, we played the tapes when the family was together on vacation tours. And later, when we were apart, we would sing a cappella over speaker phones on a conference call.
Wading out to Erie Wave off Long Point Beach, or now White Squall, with his songs in my head—We still keep our time, to the turn of the tides, and this boat that I built with my father—or whilst building a deck with Dad or fishing in Saint Margaret’s Bay . . . for the fish that are almost all gone. Or plowing my field . . .
The words are relevant. His stories make sense in my world.
—Tim Stephens, Vancouver