Patrick McGuire passed in the wee small hours of April 13th, 2019, whilst on holiday in Scotland

with his beloved wife and friends, in full embrace of the joy and passion with which he lived his

life.

Born February 9, 1952 in Hoboken, New Jersey, Patrick was the 11th out of 13 children born to

Hugh and Rose McGuire. He attended Our Lady of Grace Catholic Elementary School and St.

Joseph High School, and later received his Bachelor’s degree in English from Fordham

University in Manhattan, as well as two Masters Degrees in English and an Ab.D in English from

New York University.

Patrick is survived by his wife, Anna (Antaramian), sons, Hugh McGuire, Seth (Jenny) McGuire,

Thaddeus “Tip” McGuire, two daughters, Ankeen McGuire and Noonay (Kevin) Byrne, and his

12 siblings, along with two cherished granddaughters.

He taught 33 years at the University of Wisconsin-Parkside, as well as at Carthage College, and

several colleges on the East Coast. He was heralded, in 1994, as one of Parkside’s best

teachers, and in 2000, was awarded the Regents Award for Lifetime Achievement of Excellence

in Teaching. He taught thousands of his students to love literature and many of those students

remain friends to this day.

These may be the facts of his life, but Patrick was always larger than the details. He would be

pleased to know that he was considered a conversationalist, and it is a testament to his charm

that hundreds of people can confirm that an evening with him over drink and song was one of

life’s great pleasures. He was witty, knowledgeable and passionate, with a greater ability for

pinpoint recall of book, poem and movie quotes than anyone else we have ever met. He

preferred Irish whiskey, but anything would do in a pinch - and he once spent ten years testing

and perfecting the martini (gin, just a pass over of vermouth, slightly dirty, two olives).

His loves, beside his family and friends, were reading, drawing, photography - and his passion,

writing. He loved his garden (and composting!), woodworking, and cooking for those he loved.

His favorite times were sitting on the porch late into the evening looking at the stars and

enjoying the peace of the night air. He loved to talk, to share stories, and most of all, he loved

to tell jokes.

He loved the inscription on Yeats’ tombstone - “Cast a cold Eye / on Life, on Death / Horsemen,

pass by!” - and he of all would appreciate the irony of how ill equipped that phrase is for this

event. For there are none of us who can simply turn and pass by to continue life as it was

before, having known and lost him. But we can celebrate all that he was to us and to so many.