My fondest memory of Stan is after a concert in Sudbury, Ontario, in the 1970s. Because of a broken heart, I proceeded to drink myself into a babbling stupor. I remember spending an inordinate amount of time bending Stan’s ear—about what, I don’t remember, but I do remember his goodness and patience in listening to me and contributing to the conversation. I felt his compassion not only in his music but in his personality. The day he died, I felt I’d lost a personal friend. My heart was broken once more.