Ann Redpath
September 19, 1941 - February 6, 2026
May you find rest and peace at home and may home come to the rest of the world. --Ann Redpath
Story
For Ann, it was always about story and narrative and how we find meaning and understanding within the telling. She loved a metaphor and getting to the crux of things. The crux was love, kindness, and justice. The enduring metaphor is home.
Alice Ann was called Annie by her family and grew up in St. Paul with beloved siblings Kathy and Peter and parents Al and Alice. She joined her sister, the sisters, and sister friends in Chicago. She made her own family in Minneapolis with Charles, Kristin and Scott, and later welcomed Alissa and so many friends and children of friends and family members to her home on Holmes. She ventured to New York with young Alissa to earn her doctorate and immerse herself in a new life in the noisy city. In the decades to follow, she lived near Kristin and her family with Liam and daughters Lily and Maeve. She delighted in the hilarious and strong people her granddaughters are and got to hold new baby Esme.
James Baldwin wrote about the importance of bearing witness and engaging in the struggles of the day. She came of age and awareness in the civil rights era and carried outrage and optimism in her heart. She marched. She wrote to presidents and congressmen (and they wrote back). She followed the news with the responsibility of witness and the same visceral response that she had to the hardships of those dear to her.
Ann was a writer and Rilke spoke to her soul. She marked births and deaths and holidays with a poem. She created books and curricula for schools, speaking with purpose and clarity for children. She hired friends and family to write books on pop stars and Olympians, and won international awards for fairytales illustrated by exceptional artists. She started Redpath Press with hard work, a tolerance for risk, and a fresh idea for sharing her love of short stories with readers. Later, she studied the philosophy of education, World War I, and lengthy biographies. In her last job, at 80 and as the pandemic and her own illness were making the world smaller, she found deep satisfaction as a writing coach to immigrant students at Bronx Community College, helping them tell their stories.
We remember her smile and humor. Her strong will, work, and commitments. Her capacity for friendship and love.
Photos
Leave
life's imprint
as gifts
in the hands of the day.
--Ann Redpath
I learned to navigate
life from them
They were there
from the beginning
down the hall
or across the country
smiling and inviting us
to play.
--from her poem Siblings
This family--
it's full of life boats
when you need them.
It's our art and craft
to bring back our ancestors,
to bring our own memories and forgettings
back up to the surface.
In fact, some say
it's our essence.
We survive
--collectively--
from the stories
we've been told and tell,
from the songs
we've heard and sing.
--from her poem Rubbings on the surface