Stanley Joseph Flack was born on May 24, 1961, in Inkster, Michigan, to Leonard and Rosemarie Flack. He is survived by his wife, Linda, whom he met as a teenager. They were married for over 40 years. He is also survived by his three sons: Travis (Jessica), Jacob (Melinda), and Joshua; and his grandson, August. His siblings include Bernadette, Debbie (Bill), and Mike (Abby).

Growing up, Stan was an avid outdoorsman and athlete, becoming both an Eagle Scout and a college hockey player. Close friends, family, and especially his wife can attest that he didn't start talking until he was 30. So, in an effort to "embrace efficiency," let's begin there.

There are some people who are simply destined to become fathers. Stan went beyond this calling. He wanted nothing more than to share his wonder of the natural world with his family. In doing so, he taught each of his sons how to become men: Be kind to your partners, to yourselves, and most importantly, to each other. Learn from your mistakes, own up to them, and move on. We are fallible, sensitive creatures, and no one is above a mistake.

While floating in the pool on a hot summer day—eye level with the water, straw hat shading his face—he would remind his sons about the missed spots on the lawn they had just mowed (a.k.a. "mowhawks"). These simple lessons are what we all remember. It's okay to move through the world with strength and conviction while also making sure the people in your circle know you care. Sometimes we yell too loudly, move too quickly to judgment, or too slowly to empathy. If you can split wood and build a fire, you can also well up at your son's trophy ceremony. You can make pierogies, polish rocks, and change a flat tire. There is a balance to everything.

Stan loved fishing. Some of his earliest memories were in the freshwater streams of Michigan, Wisconsin, and Canada. Later in life, he was trolling the Gulf of Mexico for grouper and black drum. He waded through mangroves, wandered down piers, and found hidden spots. Somewhere in the placid, cool-moving water of a stream in North Carolina, he would point out a trout fry, watching it swim cautiously toward the bank, looking for food. Stan would lean down, whispering to his sons, "Be careful of your shadow—don't scare the little guy." He wanted them to know that being big and powerful in the world wasn't always necessary—and that true strength includes grace.

He taught us it's okay to be scared of a fastball, but not to shy away. Looking back, we can see that for Stan, sports were lessons in masculinity and all the responsibility that came with it.

Stan was a man of many, many passions—reflected in one of his favorite phrases: "How valuable is your time?" From metal detecting to marble collecting, he had a voracious appetite for anything that piqued his interest. He traveled internationally in search of Roman coins and artifacts. He became obsessed—almost to a fault. If you meant something to Stan, there's a good chance you have a beautiful rock that took him weeks to tumble. The invention of the internet, and all of its hobby-specific forums, allowed him to live in multiple worlds at once. He didn't stand a chance when eBay came around—a 24/7 flea market attached to his credit card. To this day, packages are still arriving.

Everyone will remember Stan for his work ethic. He worked at the Sembler Company for almost 30 years—a career so full of accomplishments and camaraderie that his coworkers became extended family. Starting with the drug store Eckerd's and ending with large-scale projects, Stan was Vice President of Construction and held the title with pride and integrity. He was a big-picture guy who never forgot the small details. He was relentless in his pursuit of completing a project on time. If you weren't doing what you were supposed to be doing, Stan was about to ruin your day. But somehow, after the dust cleared and the plan moved forward, you found yourself actually admiring his resolve.

One such occasion stands out: after being dodged for a week, Stan drove two hours to a permit office to find out what the holdup was. The permit official was, of course, nowhere to be found. Stan camped outside the office so long he took a cat nap. Eventually, he was awoken—by the permit itself being waved in his face.

As we grieve the loss of our beloved Stan, it's so obvious the profound effect he had on the people closest to him. The family would like to thank everyone who has reached out with memories that attest to his friendship. Whether you worked with him, went metal detecting, or simply knew him, Stan was known for his sense of humor, quick wit, and generosity.

If Stan Flack were here now to make sense of any of this, his last imparting words would probably be something like: Love graciously, always watch your shadow, and "Where do you think you dropped your ring again?"

In lieu of flowers, Donations may be made in Stan's memory to (Autism Speaks) https://www.autismspeaks.org/?form=donate