[at-l] Kieth Shaw remembered

[blisterfree at isp01.net (Brett)]

I first met in Keith Shaw in '97, ironically while staying
at the Pie Lady's. Keith had approached me in town,
soliciting in his unabashed (though harmless) manner. I
can't explain why I didn't stay at his hostel, although I
did visit his outfitter shop, and took a maildrop from Keith
in the 100 mile wilderness. He showed up in his station
wagon precisely on schedule, and delivered our food supplies
along with a ham and mayo sandwich for each of us.

Passing through Monson again in '03 I ended up at another
hostel, again not the Shaw's, and afterward I began to
realize that I was subconsciously avoiding the place. I
wasn't sure why. Perhaps I had a sense that the 'boarding
house' environment would be ill-suited for a restful night's
sleep.

In any case, these kinds of self-induced stigmas are best
broken by experience. But the real reason I finally decided
to stay at Shaw's - in October of this year - was a sense
that a legend along the Appalachian Trail was advancing in
years. This might be my last chance to put stigmas behind
and embrace the experience.

Entering the home ("knock first, then let yourself in") I
was somewhat surprised to find Keith at the kitchen table,
still his fiesty self, but indeed a bit further along the
path of life. He drew supplemental oxygen from a large
canister by his side. Nevertheless he was still active and
very much a part of the business, explaining house rules in
his somewhat detached, no-nonsense manner, and showing off
his recently expanded outfitter shop in the back shed (he
graciously opened shop, turned on the lights, and attended
to the front register while I shopped for one $1.00 lexan
spoon).

Keith and his wife were gracious hosts, and the aromas of
dinner and, in the chill of autumn's morning, breakfast,
were about as legendary as the food itself. (Keith had
regaled us with stories of both meals the evening before,
rattling off the items on menu with obvious delight as we
salivated and - he surely hoped - succumbed to the urge to
pay up and pig out.)

The boarding house had only three guests that night, and I
was the sole occupant of the bunk room upstairs. So much for
stigmas; the evening was calm and contemplative. In the
morning, Keith Sr and Keith Jr jockeyed for position in the
kitchen, each attending to their own portion of the family
business. After some discussion about who should offer me a
ride back to the trail, Keith Jr took the order and, bird
hunting guns beside me in the truck's passenger seat, we
headed off.

After my visit I didn't think much about Keith Sr leaving us
anytime soon. Although I had stayed at his place - at long
last, with a certain sense of the future, the hospitality
and kindness I discovered there left an enduring impression.
I've been looking forward to my next visit ever since.
Hopefully we will always remain "Welcome at Shaw's," even
though the experience will never quite be the same.

- blisterfree