“My Sons Will Carry It Forward,” My Father Toasted at His Retirement — Then He Laughed and Said I ‘Never Had What It Takes,’ and That Was the Exact Moment I Walked Out and Built the Company That Replaced His
The night my father retired, the ballroom of a suburban hotel just outside Columbus glowed with soft yellow lights and borrowed elegance, the kind that tried very hard to feel important without quite managing it, and the air carried a thick blend of roast beef, sweet wine, and expensive cologne applied too generously by men who believed success should be announced before it was noticed. Two hundred people sat at round tables dressed in white linen, executives, subcontractors, bankers, distant relatives who barely remembered my birthday but remembered the checks my father signed, all waiting politely for the speech that would officially close one chapter and crown the next.
My father, Robert Keane, stood beneath a chandelier he’d personally approved because it looked “strong” and “traditional,” raised his glass, cleared his throat, and smiled with the confidence of a man who had never been questioned long enough to worry about his answers.
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