Keith Marske, 86, a longtime Durango resident, disappeared in early January. On the coldest night of winter, he went out for a walk and never returned.
Several months later, he is presumed dead.
Though he was a man of solitary nature, his absence has left a noticeable void in the lives of his family and immediate neighbors – a quiet reminder that it is not always the loudest voices that hold a town together, but sometimes the most soft-spoken.
“He may not be a face that most people would recognize from downtown, but he was a part of the community in our neighborhood,” said John Sheedy, Marske’s stepson. “And I think that with so many people lacking communities now, it was very powerful that he was a part of his local community in the neighborhood.”
For decades, Marske lived in the Falls Creek subdivision north of Durango. Neighbors, many of whom became friends, were used to seeing him stroll through the valley, always ready with a wave or a kind word.
In the months since his disappearance, neighbors have felt his absence.
“He added immeasurably to the quality of our neighborhood,” said Joel Schiavone, Marske’s longtime neighbor, in a written statement.
Several of Marske’s neighbors and friends shared similar reflections with The Durango Herald, painting a picture of a gentle man with a deep-rooted connection to both the natural world and those around him.
He sent hand-drawn birthday cards and shared his skills as an amateur potter.
Despite his advanced age and declining mobility, he continued to mow the lawn of his ex-wife’s property, where he lived in a trailer.
Marske is presumed to have died somewhere in the valley – a thought that brings his family a bit of comfort.
“We know that he’s at peace – must have been at peace; he was in one of his favorite places, which was out in the valley,” Sheedy said.
Marske was reported missing by his ex-wife on Jan. 10.
The next week, La Plata County Search and Rescue conducted an extensive search.
The team deployed drones and dogs and enlisted the help of family, friends and neighbors to comb through the valley.
When official search efforts ended, Marske’s sons continued the search.
“The first couple of weeks, we were so overwhelmed with constantly checking in, and updates and talking to neighbors that we were tired of talking about it,” Sheedy said. “We didn’t have any answers, and we didn’t have any closure on it yet.”
Now, months later, the family has come to accept Marske’s death.
At 86, Marske had begun to struggle more with mobility. Parkinson’s disease, which he had managed quietly for years, had worsened and affected his ability to communicate.
Though he remained determined to make the best of it, Schiavone said the toll it took was becoming more apparent.
Sheedy agreed. While the family never expected him to disappear so mysteriously, they had began to consider his passing.
That made the loss slightly easier to accept, even though it has left them with many unanswered questions.
As they begin to say their goodbyes, his family has started to sort through Marske’s belongings.
The old photo albums retrace the eras of his life, painting a picture of a man who, in Sheedy’s words, seemed to have lived “three separate lives.”
Marske spent his early professional years as a chemist at a nuclear weapons facility, splitting atoms to make uranium caps for atomic bombs.
“I don’t think he was – in his later years – I don’t think he was so proud of that,” said Sheedy, who met Marske years after his chemistry career ended.
Years later, he put that part of his life far behind him, shifting to a career restoring cars.
Marske was one of those people who possessed an uncanny ability to fix all sorts of complicated machinery and restore all manner of vintage cars, but it was his paintwork that set him apart.
“He did beautiful work,” Sheedy said, recounting a car Marske restored for him that featured painted flames on the sides.
In retirement, Marske traded precision for simplicity. He bought a short school bus for adventuring and painted it turquoise using ordinary house paint.
“That was really kind of a testimony to his letting go,” Sheedy said.
After retiring in his 50s, Marske devoted himself to exploring the natural landscapes of the Southwest.
He hiked every inch of the Falls Creek valley and spent countless weeks in the desert enjoying the quiet and solitude, accompanied only by “Gus the Bus,” his constant companion during his forays into nature.
Marske also took time to document the landscape, creating detailed hand-drawn maps of the places he traveled.
“He probably had the canyons around Comb Ridge and Bluff mapped out better than anybody else,” Sheedy said. “It was all handwritten with markers any place he’d found anything historic or found any Anasazi Puebloan sites,” Sheedy said.
Marske loved sharing those discoveries with family and friends, often meeting Sheedy in the desert for days of exploration.
Reflecting on his stepfather’s legacy, Sheedy said Marske left behind more than just maps and material items.
“He was a role model for us,” he said. “He lived a simple lifestyle, and I think that the ‘less is more’ approach is what we need more than anything in the world right now. And maybe that is the lesson he left for me – appreciate what is around (you) without being a great consumer.”
jbowman@durangoherald.com
