ROBERT DONALD STEPHENS

November 16, 1948 – March 5, 2025 Robert Stephens was a giant. Not in stature (he'd probably flick me on the arm for saying that), but in the size of his heart, his sense of humour, and the profound legacy he leaves behind. He was the most interesting man you could ever meet, always armed with incredible stories. If you knew him in his youth, you might have called him "Rink," a nod to how often - and how well - he played hockey. In fact, he was talented enough to earn a scholarship to Cornell University. But, ever the adventurer, he chose to attend Tulane University in New Orleans instead, where he spent his days reveling in jazz, savoring good bourbon, and having a grand old time. After college, he travelled the world - spending time in Africa, living in Greece for a year, and gathering countless stories that would become cherished family lore. When he returned home, he embraced a career in journalism with unmatched passion. Reporting for the Globe and Mail, Toronto Star, and Ottawa Journal, he was fearless in his pursuit of the truth, with almost all his work above the fold. His investigative instincts famously led him to uncover the Ontario budget in a printer's garbage - an explosive story that sparked a high-profile legal case. Though he was sued, the matter was eventually dissolved, and that article became part of Canadian case law. He was an Ivanhoe in every sense - championing the little guy and never shying away from hard truths. Eventually, he met my mother, Sally, and they fell head over heels in love with each other. His passionate pursuit of her was matched by her equally devoted affection - a bond that remains as strong today as it was then. Together, they founded a public relations firm, found great success, and were married on a solar eclipse (something we like to think brought them 40 years of good luck, especially given my mother's dyslexia). They went on to adopt my brother and me, and we had almost 30 years of our own good luck with him. In the last year of his life, he finally published a book - the first in-depth biography of a little-known Canadian-born speculator in the 1920s - a story he spent over ten years uncovering. At the same time, he rekindled his passion for painting, working almost obsessively and leaving behind a gallery of artwork. His paintings captured the sailboats he once loved to pilot, the African tribes he encountered on his travels, lightning strikes, self-portraits, and much more. Today, people can find his book and view his gallery on outlawvoice.com. My father ended his long war against cancer on March 5, 2025 - a battle he fought for 17 years. He was surrounded by love in his passing, with his wife, Sally; his daughter, Meg (Oliver); and son, Bo. He leaves behind his deep love for his granddaughter, Brooke, as well as future grandchildren; and his brothers, Dave (Cindy) of Flesherton, Ontario, and Tom (Debbie) of N. Fort Myers, Florida. Beloved by family and friends alike, he leaves them with memories so full of laughter that many still recall times when they literally choked on their mirth. Though he has passed, his stories, his kindness, and his unquenchable zest for life live on in our hearts and in every word, brushstroke, and laugh he left behind. He was - and always will be - larger than life. www.HarrisFuneralHome.ca