Kenneth Arthur Provancher

Kenneth Arthur Provancher, known before his birth and throughout his life as Kap, passed away in his home on the morning of April 10, 2026, of cardiac arrest. He was 71. Born on March 21, 1955, in Portland, Oregon, he is survived by his beloved wife of nearly 40 years, Penny Stewart; his daughter, Katherine Alexa Provancher, and her mother, Laura Glassford; his grandson, Findley Alexander Gutmann; his sister, Rebecca Abbott; his brother, Alan Provancher; and several nieces and nephews. He was preceded in death by his mother, Sally Ann Leovich; his father, Kenneth Eugene Provancher; his brother, Richard Provancher; and his dog, Grip. He was known as Uncle Kap to many, and was a cherished neighbor, friend, and golf buddy.

Kap graduated from Tigard High School in 1973 and spent 30 years as a journeyman plumber at Rayborn’s Plumbing. He and Penny created a blended family, raising his daughter Alexa and her friend Catherine Forrest together. People were always drawn to Kap — he was the oldest and coolest kid on his block in Metzger, the center of a group of Tigard High friends he stayed close with for the rest of his life, and he never made it through Fred Meyer without running into someone he knew.

He was hard-working, generous, unwaveringly loyal, crass, indulgent, and ever-forgiving. He loved good food — he could savor a simple stew or a lightly seared piece of fresh ahi and talk about both for weeks afterward. He loved to smoke and drink and golf and play guitar. He loved to read and, in his later years, to scroll. He always said there was no point in doing a half-assed job, and his motto, for good and for bad, was often “it’s only money.” He had an enormous presence (and stature), and a near-constant glint in his eye. He was a storyteller and a jokester. He made fun of himself, and others, but never with malice. He called out the elephant in the room to break the ice and bring everyone in on the joke. Sometimes he went too far, but one laser eye from Penny was all it took to shut him down. Humor was his superpower and his armor. Not always the most emotionally available, he showed his immense heart through acts of service.

Penny was the center of his life. They built a beautiful home together, just two blocks from his sister and the house he grew up in. Kap had a knack and a mission for bringing Penny’s visions to life — from a wall-sized map of the world to an eleven-door she-shed in the backyard. He was down to build a chicken coop when she wanted chickens, donned a beekeeping suit through her beehive phase, and always jumped into action to give refuge to the animals and people she brought home. When Penny took a job delivering flowers in their retirement, he was right there beside her every morning — ever her copilot.

He loved to go on adventures with Penny — usually to Kauai, where he found his signature look of a Hawaiian shirt and Panama hat. He loved his Stetson too, and his camouflage baseball cap with a built-in reading light — a find that, like many things he thought were cool, he bought in bulk and distributed among family and friends. Their three trips to Scotland were a highlight — driving on the left side of the road, chasing lighthouses, and sleeping in castles were just as fun to experience as they were to recount.

Kap taught himself guitar at age 12. His guitars became an extension of his body — he played by ear, and eventually taught himself to read music. He loved John Prine, Cat Stevens, Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Jethro Tull, Bonnie Raitt, Santana, and many others. We can still hear him playing Father and Son — changing the words to Father and Daughter — cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a beer close by. Our ears still ring from him blasting the whole street with Santana on the electric. He wrote his own music too, some of which you can find on his YouTube channel.

We are heartbroken at his loss, as he was heartbroken at the losses he endured throughout his life. He loved deeply and grieved deeply. He carried those who passed before him — his father, his brother Richard, his dear friends Rick Nelson and Bobby Lester, and his beloved dog Grip, among many others — with him, their names on the tip of his tongue and their adventures together always part of the stories he told. He grieved them the way we grieve him now. We like to think he's with them — up there with a "cigarette nine miles long," strumming Angel from Montgomery, Grip by his side, spreading his light the way he always did.

In Lieu of flowers

Go Fund Me

https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-penny-jfqx5