Stephen Davis

Steve Davis passed away on March 7, 2026, with his wife, Mina, and family by his side.

He was born in Montreal, Canada, on March 5, 1933. After graduating high school in St. John, New Brunswick, he attended Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia. During these years and for most of his life, he participated and excelled in sports, mainly baseball and hockey. During the later years, a new passion, golf, was added to the list.

His aviation career began in 1953 with Trans-Canada Air Lines, which later became Air Canada. He had many proud moments throughout the forty years he flew, including opening the first Air Canada Operations Center in San Francisco, California, in 1974. While stationed in Montreal, he worked for 10 years as a check pilot, later returning to Toronto for the remainder of his career.

After his retirement in 1992, he was able to reside in Florida full-time. He married Mina in 1992, and they had many happy years of traveling, golfing, and enjoying their many wonderful friends. Steve also obtained his United States citizenship at this time. For the past two and a half years, he and Mina resided in Suwanee, Georgia.

In addition to Mina, Steve is survived by four children, Steve E. Davis, Deborah Davis Maclean, Kirkwood A. Davis, all of Canada; and Beth A. Zunde of Georgia; ten grandchildren; and six great-grandchildren.

He will be well remembered for his life’s passions: his native Canada, family, aviation, and sports. A celebration of life will be held at a later date in Canada. The family is very grateful for all the care he received, especially from the hospice team during his final months.

"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of EarthAnd danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirthof sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred thingsYou have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swungHigh in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flungMy eager craft through footless halls of air....Up, up the long, delirious, burning blueI’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.Where never lark, or even eagle flew —And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trodThe high untrespassed sanctity of space,– Put out my hand, and touched the face of God."

by John Magee, Jr.

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