Raymond Stanton
March 11, 1933 – October 16, 2026
Raymond Stanton filed his final story on October 16, 2026, at the age of 93. He’d want it known
that he asked a great many questions on the way out, and was disappointed not to get better
answers.
Ray was born in England on March 11, 1933. In 1955 he arrived in Canada alone, with $50 in his
pocket and a firm plan to build a fantastic life. He did exactly that, and for decades afterward he
enjoyed reminding everyone how far fifty dollars could go in the right hands.
Within a year of landing, Ray had talked his way into the Kitchener-Waterloo Record. He covered
the region’s planning meetings and wrote the reports that followed, which made him one of the few
people in town who could stay awake through an entire zoning debate. Readers knew him best for
his column, KW at Work, where he profiled the people who kept Kitchener-Waterloo running. Ray
believed everyone had a story worth telling, and he wouldn’t leave until he’d heard all of it.
In 1957, a chance meeting introduced him to Yvonne, a beautiful young woman who, it turned out,
had also come all the way from England only to bump into him in Canada. Ray considered this
proof that fate has a sense of humour. They married in 1958, and together they travelled, built
businesses, raised a family, and moved from home to home, redecorating each one before the paint
had properly dried on the last. Their elaborate themed parties became legendary among their
friends, who never knew whether to bring a casserole or a costume and usually needed both.
Yvonne was the woman Ray loved, cherished, and tried his hardest to obey for 68 years.
Ray was a man of honour and integrity, and the clearest proof was the way he loved and cared for
Yvonne. He was attentive, devoted, and never too proud to fetch, carry, or admit she was right
(eventually). Watching the two of them was a lesson in what marriage can be, and it’s one the
world could use more of these days. Ray understood the assignment, and for 68 years he set the
example.
In 1966 Ray left the Record to start his own public relations and advertising company. It was the
perfect job for a man who could find the angle in any story and the conversation in any room.
Along the way, Ray also wrote three books: histories of Schneiders and Electrohome, and a history
of Kitchener-Waterloo itself. They’re fitting subjects for a man who spent his life finding out how
things worked and who made them work. Anyone who knew Ray will understand that each book
took a little longer than planned, because he kept finding one more person to interview.
In the mid-1970s, Ray’s beloved son took a casual interest in riding horses. Ray, ever supportive,
bought him a pair of riding gloves. The gloves needed boots, of course. The boots needed a horse.
The horse needed a trailer. Before anyone quite understood what was happening, the whole family
had packed up and bought the farm. Ray always said it was the most expensive pair of gloves he
ever purchased, and one of the best investments he ever made. His son adored him, and it’s easy to
see why: here was a dad who would turn a passing interest into a whole new way of life, just to see
his boy happy.
Never one to do anything halfway, Ray soon added a flock of sheep to the farm. And because a
newspaperman and advertising executive couldn’t simply have sheep, he enrolled in a course at the
University of Guelph and became a credentialed shepherd. He was likely the only man in Ontario
who could write your press release and shear your ram in the same afternoon. Sadly, the sheep
never answered any of his questions, though that didn’t stop him from asking.
Eventually Ray and Yvonne settled in Stratford, though “settled” may not be the right word. Over
the years they lived in a number of homes there, redecorating each one with their usual enthusiasm,
and they ran a B&B, where guests surely left with more questions answered about themselves than
they’d expected. They also welcomed Yvonne’s parents into a granny flat and cared for them there.
Ray and his mother-in-law got along so famously that she often forgot he wasn’t actually her son,
which overturned every mother-in-law joke he’d ever heard. It was one more testament to his
caring heart and easy way with people.
Ray gave generously to the community that had welcomed him, lending his time and energy to the
Kitchener-Waterloo Art Gallery and the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony. Away from his desk he
loved skiing, golf, and wine, ideally in that order of the day. He was a proud member of the Forest
Hill Wine Club, Westmount Golf Club, and Stratford Country Club, and he played every course
with great enthusiasm and a flexible approach to arithmetic. He maintained that the wine improved
his golf. His playing partners weren’t so sure, but they never turned down the wine.
Online, Ray went by “RedWine Ray,” which told you most of what you needed to know. His
passwords were another matter entirely. They involved symbols that don’t appear on most
keyboards, and nobody, possibly including Ray, could remember or correctly type them. He
guarded them fiercely, convinced that hackers around the world were plotting to steal his
newspaper subscription.
Right up to his final days, Ray was whip-smart. He could finish the toughest New York Times
crossword in record time, in pen, while the rest of the family was still working out 1-Across.
The interviewing never stopped, either. Friends, family, waiters, nurses, and anyone lucky enough
to sit beside him were all treated to Ray’s signature line of questioning. Where are you from? What
do you do? Why do you do it that way? He was curious right up to the end.
Ray is survived by his wife of 68 years, Yvonne, who learned long ago that “just a quick question”
from Ray was never quick. He was predeceased by his beloved son, and by many others, as
happens when you stay at the party until 93. We’d like to think Ray and his son are together again,
and that Ray is already asking everyone around them a great many questions.
Ray was a real gem: a lovely human being and a true testament to what it means to be a decent
man. In lieu of a service, the family asks that you send your memories along. Emails can go to
Yvonne at yvonneinstratford@gmail.com, and cards can be mailed to Harry Ten Shilling, P.O. Box
220, Shakespeare, ON N0B 2P0. There is one rule, and Ray would insist on it: every message must
include your best Ray story, so we can all laugh. He’d have had a few follow-up questions for you,
too. www.wgyoungfuneralhome.com
Ray, thank you for every question, every story, and every bit of love you gave. Your story was the
best one of all, and you told it beautifully
.-30-
