Gail B Stewart

Gail Barbara Stewart died suddenly at 75 on November 20, 2024, and boy did she stick the landing.

Having just finished dance class with her friends in adult day care, she exchanged beaming smiles and "I love you's" with Stephanie, the wonderful day services director at Mount Olivet. Then, in an instant, Gail lost consciousness. Staff and EMTs bravely tried to work their magic, but she remained unresponsive, and passed peacefully in the hospital with Carl Franzen, her beloved husband of more than 50 years, at her side for a final goodbye.

Among her loved ones, grief mingles with deep gratitude and relief that she was able to remain in the home she was married in and where she raised her three sons: Teddy Stewart-Franzen (Kira), Elliot Stewart-Franzen (Anna, Harry, Elsa), and Flynn Stewart-Franzen.

Alzheimer's made it hard to remember who Gail was before she got sick. Now, those memories are returning, and her friends and family celebrate her by breathing life back into Gail the tomboy, Gail the secret poet, Gail the teacher, Gail the academic, Gail the mom, Gail the published author, Gail the Starbucks regular, Gail the library volunteer.

This list could go on and on-she was truly exceptional in so many ways-but at no point will we remember Gail the cook. Gail the good loser at board games? Also, no. Gail the totally dignified and composed soccer parent on the sidelines? Ask the ref.

After majoring in English Literature at Gustavus Adolphus College and earning her Masters of Arts from College of Saint Thomas, Gail spent the 1970s teaching middle schoolers at Saint Thomas the Apostle, Visitation, and Saint Pius X in the Twin Cities. In the teachers' lounge, she met her lifelong best friend and kindred spirit, Terry Kirby, who saw Gail as a born teacher who had a special way of connecting with kids and finding clever ways to pique their interest. One former student went so far as to claim Gail's engaging teaching style helped her love reading The Odyssey!

In the early 1980's, Gail found her professional calling as a writer by repurposing her unique ability to take stuffy subjects and bring them to life for young learners. She began writing nonfiction specifically for children and young adults. Greenhaven and Lucent Press published more than 250 of her books on a staggering range of topics. It was a significant source of pride for her sons to be able to say, "My mom is an autho­­­r."

Gail took great pride and enjoyment in being the mother of these sons (most of the time). She embodied safety, warmth, and unconditional love when they were little, and she knew how to make everything feel special. She was the undisputed voice of every family dog. And every night before bed, she would read to her cozy and enraptured pile of snuggling sons and pets. As they grew (the sons), she taught them piano, brought her trusty red pen out of retirement to help with homework, volunteered in lunch lines, encouraged trying new sports, instruments, and activities, and attended hundreds of soccer games. She was a spectacular mom.

Gail valued depth over breadth in her relationships, and she would light up with joy, laughter, and enthusiasm when she connected with three women in particular.

With Terry, she had the most genuine friendship of her life. On most days, she'd spend her writing break on the phone with her, and the sound of Gail's belly laugh and animated back-and-forth would fill the house.

Her other daily chat was with her mom. Gail wasn't one for dogma or strict religious beliefs, but she took comfort in knowing that she would see her mom again in heaven, and as dementia untethered her from our shared reality, she would sit at the piano facing Barb's photograph and play a lilting, looping melody, stopping occasionally to continue a lifelong mother-daughter conversation that only they could hear.

Whenever Gail was with her younger sister, Patty Griffith, they immediately relaxed into a playful, mischievous, and vibrant connection filled with inside jokes and secret history. Gail, starved for meaningful conversation by her lunkhead boys who refused to part with even a scrap of gossip, eagerly and seamlessly joined with Patty and her cherished nieces, Jackie Griffith Crowley and Lindsey Shideman, and dreamed of a life with daughters.

Gail will be remembered with joy for her deep kindness, razor-sharp wit, irreverent humor, easy conversations, fierce loyalty, love of children and animals, playfulness, thoughtful gift-giving, and commitment to participating in the lives of those dear to her.

She loved reading as much as it is possible to love reading. She spoke a secret language of nudges, glances, and postures that brought you in on the joke. She could finish a New York Times crossword puzzle every day of the week and Sudoku puzzles didn't stand a chance.

And when her grandchildren grow up, they'll run their fingers over the spines of hundreds of books bearing their grandmother's name, and know that authorship of one's own life, on one's own terms, is their birthright.

To remember Gail through our libraries, use this secure link to join Friends of Hennepin County Library (supportHCLIB.org/countmein).