C. James Keil
September 7, 1943 - May 31, 2021
Tomorrow, it will be three weeks since the passing of Jim Keil. Having given the eulogies for both of my own parents, I felt a need to do so for this man I also considered a parent. That is why I am posting this on Father’s Day. I’ve known Jim for more than 37 years, having fallen in love and married his daughter and as a part of a second family I care for as deeply as my own.
Don’t bring me problems, bring me solutions.
One of the first times I really talked to Jim was at their house in Pittsburgh. I had just started dating Kristen and he, for the most part of the summer, had been out of town working (not a big surprise to anyone reading this). Having cornered me in their basement family room around August of 1984, he asked me to sit down so we could ‘talk’. I understand now his main goal was to intimidate me and, on that count, he succeeded in 10 minutes to an intimidation basically lasting the rest of the 20th Century. “What are your intentions for my daughter?” That is the only part of the conversation I remember clearly. Having just turned 18 and about to enter my freshman year of college with no clear path ahead of me, I only stammered out that I planned on going to school and hadn’t decided much beyond trying to graduate. With that, I think he let me off the hook as I don’t remember much beyond that exchange. He had made his point.
Jim was very clear about how things should be and, in as much as he was able, was going to shape how things would be. Having overcome my apprehension through marriage and giving him two grandsons, I went into business with Jim. It was decided franchise dry cleaning was a way to make money and a way to a future of financial success. Even though what we had did not last or do any of the things we thought it would, I am grateful for the experience. I saw a lot of what made Jim what he was. Never giving up, always looking for a way to make it just ‘work’. I felt like I was an apprentice learning at the feet of the master.
His approach to business was his unshakable faith that all business was selling. No matter what you were actually doing at the moment, it was an eye-opening way to think of work. Your goal all came down to convincing someone else of your integrity and ability to trust you to meet their needs. He sent me to ‘school’ within the first year of our venture. He believed I needed to understand how sales and marketing worked in a practical way. Elevator speeches and understanding how you need to turn every transaction into a sale are still lessons I use in my own work now. Bring me solutions. Don’t complain about what is wrong; see what the situation is and figure out how to make it better and then come talk to me. You may not like it, but damn, he was right, as usual and as always.
Sounds like a plan…
Beyond our venture into retail phase, and our attempts at making things work in a recession where dry cleaning was probably not a necessity; it was the only time I saw Jim ‘in action’. But what I did see was a man who never saw a challenge he didn’t want to overcome. Someone who knew instinctively how to get himself back up after a less than successful outcome, and move onto the next thing. Life was the adventure and he went after it like it was his to own.
Even after the lung transplant, he decided there was still more to do. Retirement was never an option. There was always a plan. Honestly, the work was probably the one thing that kept him going even in the darkest moments when he felt his body betraying his sense of purpose and willpower.
He confided in me that he never wanted to feel as though he was ‘diminished’. One of his biggest fears was he would not be one of, if not, the smartest guy in the room. Having always been aware of what was going on, in the world, and even in his own sphere of influence, he feared not being a part of the conversation. And, true to his word, he never was. He left on his own terms and in his own way, and always with a smirk towards anything which would try to break him.
It’s better than a sharp stick in the eye.
I would be remiss if I did not highlight what he was most proud of and most engaged with – his family. Family was always important to him; Sunday dinners were mandatory (unless he was out of town on business) and would be the way to connect with those he loved. And yes, while it was important, it took on added significance after the passing of his father and becoming a grandfather in the mid 1990’s. I noticed a change in the dedication to being involved which was not there before. I feel it made him more aware of his own family and what they meant to him and each other.
Each of his children was unique and he was so very proud of each one. Kristen, the wild child, who thought she would follow in his footsteps until realizing she was meant to follow in her mother’s as a teacher. Brendan, the rebel, who needed the military as much as it needed him and where Jim saw what his son was able to accomplish as a part of the Navy. Daniel, the wanderer, who needed extra time to find his place in the world and Jim understanding he needed to do it on his own terms. His grandchildren, all nine of them, to whom he held a special place in his soul for each one, from the original – Alexander – to the newest – Chloe and all those in between, Honor, Benjamin, Aiden, Allison, Evan, Katherine, and Kimberly.
Finally, there is Jane. Their love affair lasted all of his life and is probably the one regret he had in leaving. She was his strength as well as his counterpoint. Even when they disagreed, they understood their love would remain no matter their differences. She was the only one not intimidated by him, ever.
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During the week following Jim’s passing, there were many who believed they could provide a narrative about Jim and give some understanding and meaning to his life and his impact. I know I have tried to do the same here. But the one thing I am sure of is that Jim defied all narratives. Each person he interacted with knew a part of him, but there always seemed to be more.
I am not sure anyone would be able to fully explain Jim Keil and I am kind of glad for it.
He was and still is a big part of our lives and I know he would not want it any other way.
Skoal!