Keith,

I was deeply saddened to hear of your passing—I hadn’t known you had left us so soon.

One of my most cherished scarves is the one you gave me as a souvenir during Redox Week in Sendai in 2022. It always reminds me of your warmth and generosity.

Thank you for visiting Japan so many times and for welcoming so many of our medical students as visiting trainees. Thanks to your kindness and mentorship, they have grown into dedicated physicians and physician-scientists.

The legacy of SKN-1 and NRF2 that you build will continue to benefit human health for generations.

I truly wish we could meet again.

With heartfelt gratitude and remembrance.

Short trip to Matsushima

My deepest condolences to the family. I had the opportunity to first  "hear" about Keith when I joined Fred Alt's lab as a postdoc, and learning of him and George Yancopoulos as Fred's first students, and reading his amazing reviews with Fred in Ann Rev. Genet. in 1989, which remains a classic. As faith will have it, many years after I started my own lab working with sirtuins and aging, so I started to meet Keith from our common work through the participation in students Committees and some Harvard activities. But it was not until I ended up joining as a member a Study section in NIH for aging studies, and I had the chance to share a couple of years with Keith who was in the same study section (he was the Chair), and I had then the honor to truly see the scientist, and more important, the amazing human being he was. He was one of the kindest and noble people I had a chance to interact with. We spend many many meetings together, reviewing grants, and I was always impressed by his ability to chair the sessions with grace, even when difficult arguments were discussed, he always found a way to work through them. He brought the best from people. And the chats over dinner were always beautiful conversations that went way beyond the science, about life experiences and adventures. He was truly one of a kind. He will be missed. Raul 

I joined Keith’s lab in 2009 as a PhD student.

As many have expressed, what struck me from the beginning was Keith’s kindness, his ability to connect with anyone, and his unmistakable Southern warmth. He had a quiet wit, a brilliant mind, and a true passion for basic science research and the life he had built.

As a mentor and PI, Keith set clear expectations and high standards. Presentations needed a clear introduction, even if the lab had heard it a hundred times, no PowerPoint animations, no funky colors. He wanted to look at each experimental replicate, individually and then in combination with other replicates. He wanted to know all possible caveats and any related experiments that had been published. But he never held past mistakes or shortcomings against you—and he was quick to celebrate your progress and wins, big or small.

He genuinely wanted his students, fellows, and research assistants to succeed—on whatever path they choose for themselves.

He supported me during my PhD, even when I proposed starting a collaboration that wasn’t directly related to SKN-1 or the lab’s current focus. When I told him, near the end of my PhD, that I wanted to pursue a career that combined research and teaching, he was fully onboard.

And that support didn’t end when I left his lab. Since starting my own lab as an Assistant Professor, Keith continued to be a generous collaborator and steadfast mentor. We had many conversations about academia—about the path to tenure, the challenges of balancing it all—and he was always willing to share his insight.

All of these years, he has opened his lab to me and to my students. He made room for us to work side by side with his fellows, always including us in lab outings, celebrations, and dinners. He offered advice freely to my students as they figured out their own paths toward graduate school. He made us feel like part of the lab family.

I keep walking around Longwood thinking I see Keith in the distance. Or that I'll catch up with him at the next lab meeting—Tuesday, right? A part of my mind can’t quite grasp that he’s gone.

Nevertheless, there are many memories I will always hold dear—everyday moments.

I will miss hearing about the great runs he squeezed in before work—while Sandy drove in his change of clothes. I’ll miss updates about his rescue dogs—whether they now required anxiety meds, eye drops, back surgery (again), or extra walks to burn off their energy. I will miss stopping by his office to find him working at his standing desk, typing on his ergonomic keyboard, a cup of green tea by his side, door open—welcoming. I’ll miss hearing about his antiquing adventures, the house renovations, the latest Sichuan restaurant he’d discovered, or his family trips to Maine, a National Park, or elsewhere around the world.

But mostly I’ll miss how much he cared.

Whenever I was sick, or someone close to me was sick, Keith would check in. He would follow up. When I faced a tragic loss in my family, he gave me time and space without hesitation or questions.

I always knew he was rooting for me.

I hope he knew how much we were all rooting for him.

How much we all deeply cared.

May Keith's memory be a blessing.

TKB Tribute

So sorry to hear of Keith's passing. My deepest condolences to all his family and friends.  The Seattle years were very special and I have such warm memories of our time together. Keith was always so gentle and kind. Although many of us have lost contact over the years it is so sad to know that Keith is no longer with us.

While we have only known Keith since 2004 when he joined the Joslin, it rapidly became clear that he was truly an exceptional individual.  Not only a great scientist, but a great human being.  Kind, gentle, thoughtful, and soft spoken, but wise in his insights both to his science and to the people around him.  The Southern boy in him felt so natural to Suzi and me, as Southerners too, but made him stand out as someone to befriend.  And getting to know Sandy and being together at their New Year's Day brunches and over an occasional dinner was a bonus.   We will definitely miss you, Keith, but your memory will always be strong in our minds and in our hearts.  Rest well my friend.

Ursula and I (Karl Munger) are deeply saddened by the terrible news of Keith’s passing. We will always cherish our fond memories together. Keith and I started in the same year at Harvard, and we became good friends, very quickly. There are simply too many good memories. From teaching a class together on “Signal Integration”, him returning from his annual trip of Vegas with an enormous roll of hundred dollar bills in his pocket, teaching us how to play crabs in a cheap casino in downtown Las Vegas (sorry I forgot), drinking shots in an ice bar in Stockholm and posing outside the Nobel Museum, and watching the Jerry Springer show while working out in the gym. I could go on and on! We tried to reconnect recently, but it was not supposed to be. Rest in peace, our dear friend!

My memories of Keith

I met Keith when I joined Hal Weintraub’s Lab as a postdoc in 1990. Keith was already there, his reputation fully recovered from a “parting gift” his New York friends organized- a year subscription to Playboy Magazine in Keith’s name- that had been arriving at the lab in Seattle for a few months before Keith. I would only say that no one would have taken it with such good humor and grace as Keith did. Unlike Keith, I had only myself to blame for my introduction to the lab: the lab was so full at the time that I didn’t have any assigned bench and I recall using a bench whose owner was on vacation to prepare a cDNA library. I was in a haste to go hiking in the cascades with my wife and left a column used to purify the cDNA (loaded with radioactive P32 that had not yet passed through) on the bench for the weekend… I came back to find the bench all surrounded by shields and tape and now I had my own “Chernobyl” story to live down. Needless to say, after such a start, many of my lab citizens were somewhat reluctant to accept me as a bench mate, but not Keith. All Keith requested is that I would stay on my side of a line taped across our shared space and not spread my mess over to the other side of the line.

Our friendship evolved (radiated?) on from there. We talked a lot about our past as we came from different worlds. Keith was the first Southerner I came to know well, a true gentleman with a killer sense of humor and dry wit. In my naïve mind Keith was the model for a southern gentleman; soon I learned he was one of a kind. In his absolutely wonderful South Carolina accent, Keith told me stories about growing at the race track. I learned quite a bit about the early days of NASCAR, his father and his relationship with the major players in that racing community. They would come to test their cars in the Blackwell’s track because it was enclosed and no one could spy on their modifications or time their laps. He told me about trips to Las Vegas with his father and brother, about playing roulette, and about actually doing well enough to be considered VIP by the casinos. He actually converted some of those winnings into a beautiful Audi TT which he allowed me to drive with him and Sandy in the back - I have to say I might’ve gotten a bit carried away with the opportunity and I wasn’t offered to drive it again. The stories were spellbinding and what emerge from them was a loving family and a wonderful human with a very keen sense of humor and an interesting take on the going-ons around him locally and globally. There was a wonderful wedding we celebrated together, and eventually a job offer out east.

After Keith moved to Harvard, we stayed in touch. On many occasions on the way to Gordon conference I visited with Sandy and Keith and their dachshunds. There’s always been a canine companion in that household for as long as I could remember. I met their wonderful daughters and heard stories about life at Harvard, always infused with humor. We traveled together to Cape Cod and to various locations north of Boston. On one occasion when Sandy and my wife Esther joined a Weintraub meeting in Seattle, we traveled together to the Olympic peninsula. I recall again driving with Keith and Sandy in the back, only this time the challenge was to catch the ferry in time so they could make their flight (we made it). From Keith and Sandy, Esther and I learned about Wellfleet Oysters, razor and cherrystone clams, and where the best lobster rolls were to be found in Maine (Wiscasset Sprugue’s Lobster). They visited us in Missouri, and we were very fortunate to visit them in Maine on more than one occasion, enjoying their hospitality, enjoying their kayaks, cooking and having a lot of fun together and creating memories that would last my lifetime.

In the Weintraub meetings that formed after Hal’s passing, Keith and I would often room together, and on those occasions we continued to exchange stories about our life, our work, in our scientific endeavors. Keith has made a successful transition to C elegans (not an easy thing to accomplish late in one’s career) and was making a name for himself in this community. I remained faithful to Notch. Life was good!

I don’t remember exactly on what occasion Keith shared with me the diagnosis of multiple myeloma, but I remember that he was optimistic about his chances and about his ability to keep living life to the fullest. With Sandy and his medical team by his side he managed to keep the disease at bay with a succession of therapies for a long time, which we all hoped will get longer still. When I received my own nasty diagnosis, Keith was a source of strength and hope. We talked a lot about our various conditions, and I recall that in one moment of panic, he hooked me up with his connections at Dana Farber, which happily was not necessary as it turned to be a false alarm.

I cannot reminisce about Keith without recalling his absolute loyalty to his sport teams, the red sox and the blue devils, and his ruthless ribbing of fans rooting for the opposition. When the Cardinals played the red sox in the world series, as soon as the last out was made in the ninth inning of the seventh game, the red sox having rallied to win 4-3 after trailing 0-3, my phone rang. It was Keith ready with the salt shaker to spray it generally on my fresh wounds… I had to wait (revenge is better served cold) but eventually the blue devils lost the NCAA championship game. As soon as the clock ran out, I dialed Keith but…before I could even say a word, Keith said “F$%k you” and we both started laughing.

I miss you already, Buddy. I am lucky to have the memories we created. You were a very important node in my sparce network of friends, and there is no replacement for this void.

I am so grateful to have had Keith as a friend for over 25 years, starting in the Pathology Department back in 1999. Keith was one of the kindest people at Harvard and he will be deeply missed.  As a clueless and nervous junior faculty, he was so welcoming and supportive. I enjoyed our collaborations to study nematodes to understand the basis of aging and he was so helpful to my lab being on my student's committees and advising us on how to work with C. elegans.  My heart goes out to Sandy and Keith's lab members 🙏

Keith's talk at HMS

Keith at Weintraub meetings through the years and with friends from his time as a postdoc in Seattle. These meetings continued annually to celebrate our mentor, Hal Weintraub, and each other. Keith will be forever loved and missed by our group.

Keith and I were friends since elementary school, having grown up a few houses apart on the same street. We both benefited from having parents who routinely displayed some of the finest attributes of what is now known as the Greatest Generation, among the nicest, most down-to-earth, most generous folks one would ever meet – hard-working and dedicated to giving their children a better life and the best education possible. In later years, my wife, Terri, and I looked forward to Keith's mother’s Christmas cards for the rest of her life, as she always included the sweetest, most heartfelt note that illuminated both the season and her beautiful soul.

Despite those similarities, all that is not to say that we were altogether similar kids. Keith was, as far as I could tell, the perfect child and teenager who never did anything questionable, much less wrong. I was not. I think we were friends because of both our similarities and our differences as we went through junior high, high school and part of college together. Keith was one of my groomsmen in our wedding in 1978.  After college, we shared similar educational paths at different institutions before eventually taking different career paths. Unfortunately, we had not kept in as close contact as we should have over the past few decades - an unfortunate byproduct of the "busy-ness" of our lives.

However, during the times when we did have the chance to reconnect, Keith was exactly the same person he had been his entire life. Simply put, he was one of the finest human beings I've ever known. His intellect and quiet wit are well known, but he truly was a rare type of caring and guileless person. As Terri would say, he was both interestING and interestED. To have a conversation with Keith was to be drawn into a private sphere by his "intentional listening," his thoughtful questions, and his sincere interest in sharing insights back and forth. This is not to say that he was completely serious. During one of his visits with us in Dallas, he had us laughing so hard during dinner at a nice steakhouse that some of the other patrons were giving us the “evil eye.” We could not have cared less.

Keith and I had several conversations regarding his illness and his approach to this problem was as I would have expected: thoughtful; analytical; optimistic; and more concerned about the impact on others than himself. Our most sincere condolences go out to Sandy, Mark, and the rest of Keith’s family and friends. 

Keith at the Worm Meeting: UCLA 2019