Tapani "Steve" Kauppinen

It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of Ilkka Tapani Kauppinen, known to family and friends as Steve. He passed away peacefully in his sleep on the morning of 26 September 2026, following a long battle with Alzheimer's disease.

Steve leaves behind his wife, Frances (Franky) Kauppinen; his daughter Annikka and her husband Per; his son Timo and his wife Laura; and his grandsons Nicolas and Viggo. He is also survived by his brother Markku, brother-in-law Bernard, nieces, nephews and good friends who loved him dearly.

Steve was born in 1940 in Tornio, northern Finland, near the Swedish border, to Hannes and Eeva Miriam Kauppinen. He spent his early childhood in Karelia, where life was disrupted by the Second World War. With his father serving on the front lines as a military chaplain, his mother courageously evacuated the children to safety ahead of advancing Russian troops. With their home in Karelia ceded to Russia, they were forced to rebuild their lives elsewhere, eventually settling in Helsinki in 1956. Steve grew up there alongside his older brother Johannes (Jussie), younger brother Markku (Aku), and younger sister Kaisa.

The story of how Steve came to Canada is a good one. After finishing school, he joined the Finnish Army, attended officer training school and served as an officer for about a year. On his last day of military service, he was sitting outside an office when someone asked what he planned to do next. He admitted he had no idea. Then he looked up and spotted a poster across the street encouraging people to immigrate to Canada. “You know, I think I'll go to Canada,” he said.

And so, with no particular plan beyond seeing what Canada had to offer, Steve set off across the Atlantic. Arriving with very little English, he took on a variety of jobs, including driving a taxi, working in construction and at Eaton's department store.

His adventurous spirit also led him to Franky, whom he met while skiing with friends. They fell in love and married in 1970. Wanting to build a secure future together, Steve decided to further his education, taking English-as-a-second-language classes and Grade 13 English. A chance conversation with a public health inspector sparked his interest in the profession, and after two years of study, he qualified and began his career in public health with the City of Hamilton, Ontario. Steve and Franky settled in Hamilton, where they raised their two children, Annikka and Timo.

Skiing was a lifelong passion and a big part of family life. Steve taught Annikka and Timo to ski almost as soon as they could walk and later coached them in junior ski racing. He was also an instructor at Chedoke Ski Club and continued skiing at Glen Eden well into his 70s. A true Canadian-Finn, he also played ice hockey into his 70s. He was a keen golfer and tennis player and loved exploring the trails at Chedoke, whether on foot or on his mountain bike. An enthusiastic sailor, Steve spent many long summer evenings out on Hamilton Bay or aboard his boat at the Hamilton Yacht Club, always with a smile.

Steve's love of nature and adventure extended well beyond sport. He shared his enthusiasm for the outdoors and travel with Franky and their children, whether spending time at the family cottage, camping or taking trips overseas. In retirement, he and Franky travelled extensively, continuing to explore new places and enjoy their adventures together.

Steve was a kind, sociable man who loved meeting people, having a good conversation and sharing a joke. His family will remember his favourite expressions, particularly “You're full of baloney” and “Shut up and go to bed,” the latter becoming the family's own rather unconventional way of saying “See you later.” Even as Alzheimer's progressed, Steve remained determined to find humour in life. He encouraged the family to laugh rather than dwell on the difficulties, and together they developed a running joke of calling forgetful moments, silly mistakes and little mishaps “dummy moves,” or affectionately calling one another “dummies.” It was his way of bringing some lightness to the challenges of the illness and finding reasons to laugh even when things were difficult.

We will miss him very much.