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Gilbert Maguire (“Gil”), 82, of St. Paul, Minnesota, and previously Oxnard, California, died suddenly on Saturday morning, March 7, at home with his lifelong partner and wife of 53 years, Robin Tuttlemaguire by his side.
Gil was born in 1943 in central Oregon. Contrary to his stubborn insistence, he was not a baby boomer, and it looks like we get the last word on that one, Dad. Instability was one of the only constants in his childhood, and he remembered the times spent with his stepfather Frank in California as rare exceptions to that turmoil. He also used to throw knives at trees with his friends during recess and claimed to have invented the frisbee.
He joined the Air Force in 1960, was sent to Indiana State University to study Russian, and worked as an intelligence analyst during the height of the Cold War and the Cuban Missile Crisis. After three years as an elementary school teacher, Gil met Robin Tuttle in 1971 in the sailing club as graduate students at San Fernando Valley State College, in Northridge, California. They moved in together after less! than a month!!! and shortly thereafter purchased a 28-foot sailboat named Cygnus. They cast off from grad school, adopted cats named Tigger and Pooh, and began the rest of their lives.
Using Gil’s celestial navigation skills, they took their time sailing down the coast of Central America. They reached the US-controlled Panama Canal Zone, found jobs, and got yet another cat, whom they named Wendy. They spent three years in Panama, where Gil worked as a policeman while they outfitted Cygnus for longer voyages. Gil, Robin, and the three cats then set sail first for the Galapagos Islands, and then into the South Pacific, putting ashore across French Polynesia. By the time they eventually settled back on land in southern California, started a business, and had kids, Gil and Robin had lived abroad for a total of 7 years. They named their first child, Moorea, after their favorite island.
Gil’s heart was alive on the ocean, barking at sea lions and his seasick kids about the jib or halyard or mainsail or whatever. Cygnus was followed by Gray Hair, and then Tenacity. He could often be found anchored along the cliffs of Channel Islands National Park, writing, spotting dolphins, and swearing at all the things that inevitably go wrong at the worst possible moment on a boat. At the age of 67 he raced 43-foot Tenacity singlehanded around Guadalupe Island, and just last month absolutely delighted his grandson with stories of seeing blue whales, orcas, and the great white sharks of Guadalupe.
In midlife and with three young children (and a variety of cats), Gil decided to go to law school. After four years of night school, he graduated from the Ventura College of Law and then studied and sat for the California bar exam, the hardest in the country, until he passed at the age of 52. He started his own practice and took up civil rights and employment law, supporting workers who had been harmed, harassed, or wrongfully terminated. And he sailed, swam at the neighborhood pool, coached soccer, taught his kids how to ride bikes and then how to drive (which went totally great, no problems there), figured out how to rig a Christmas tree out of lights in the middle of the cul-de-sac, and once accidentally (or was it??) bought way, way, WAY too many law books. He and Robin began to travel every summer. He always packed too many books and never stopped trying to sneak Trader Joes’ two-buck chuck onto cruise ships. After retiring from law, Gil, who had long written about sailing, began to write fiction and non-fiction focusing on a lifelong interest in geopolitics and the Middle East. He self-published a novel in 2018.
In a completely normal move, Gil and Robin sold their home in southern California and retired to Minnesota in 2019, to be closer to their grandchildren and further from Los Angeles traffic. Gil fit right in, outfitting himself in Costco winter gear, shoveling snow, grilling in 40-degree weather, and getting out on our lakes and rivers in the sliding seat rowboat that he brought from California. During the Covid-19 pandemic, Babu (as he was adorably known to his grandchildren) spent many hours eating popcorn with his granddaughter, and jumped right into the Twin Cities’ vibrant bike culture, purchasing an e-bike and exploring the extensive trail network of his new home. On a 60-degree Thursday, two days before his death, he was riding his bike around his Mac-Grove neighborhood, a fact which brings this obituary-writer much comfort.
Like many, Gil felt the weight of his own mortality. It fueled a desire to fill his life with meaning, but that weight was also a burden. A survivor of neglect from a very young age, he was often brimming with anxiety and pulled under by depression. He was an unpredictable and often intimidating father, but like the fine wines and whiskeys he loved, he got better with age. Thank you for that, Dad.
Gil was disgusted by his country’s turn in the last decade-plus. Above and beyond party affiliations, however, he was a passionate supporter of Palestinian freedom. Just in the last year he fasted in solidarity with the people of Gaza. He contributed his legal skills to the Twin Cities Veterans for Peace effort to sue the United States government for misuse of taxpayer dollars in funding Israel’s military.
Gil’s appreciation for good music, delicious food, coffee, books, and bicycles lives on. Left to celebrate his memory are Robin, Moorea, Patrick, Gillian, John-Michael, beloved grandchildren Caroline and Wesley, cats Dickens and Charlie, grandcats Hammy, Cona(n the Barbarian), Goose, and Puffin, along with too many in-laws, nieces, nephews, sailing buddies, friends, clients, students, and colleagues to name.
Per his long-stated wishes, Gil’s ashes will be scattered from a sailboat into the ocean. If you wish to honor his memory, please extend money, time, a drive to the airport, or a nice strong coffee to someone who needs it. Fair winds and following seas, Dad.
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