I rise today to honor Keith Stokes: a dear friend, a beloved Arkansan, and a trusted aide. On August 18, Keith tragically passed away from a heart attack at age 59. He’s in our prayers, along with the entire Stokes family, especially his wife Julie and his children Chip and Abbey.
Keith wasn’t only a colleague though; he was a close family friend. The Cottons live just up the road from the Stokeses in Yell County. Julie and my mother worked together in the middle school for years. Keith was a pillar of the Dardanelle community, from the school board to the hospital board, to mentoring young athletes, to cooking meals for teachers, charities, and even the Sand Lizard football press box, my father included.
A year into my term in the Senate, I heard that Keith was looking for a new job. I jumped at the opportunity to hire him as an agricultural advisor. I knew how much Keith cared about Arkansas’s farmers, foresters, and ranchers. It was one of the best decisions I’ve made as a senator.
Keith understood the Arkansans who lace up their boots in the morning and work with their hands, who aren’t afraid to get dirty to get the job done—the men and women who shower at the end of the day, not at the beginning of it. He understood them because he was one of them. He lived on a farm, he worked in pork and forestry industries for years, and he cultivated an encyclopedic knowledge of everything from the crops in the fields, to the beetles in the forests, to the animals in hunting season. He knew everything about Arkansas, from the soil to the people.
Keith could go into a town and within hours learn what was worrying the farmers at the feedstore and exciting the cattlemen at the sale barn.
He had a way of making everyone he met feel important. Even if he was just getting a quick breakfast at a diner, he would make sure to say something nice to the waitress and make the person behind the counter laugh. Keith knew that kindness costs nothing, but its value is priceless.
He was often the smartest man in the room, even if he didn’t admit it, and usually tried to conceal it. He never bragged or drew attention from others. He was always eager to listen and give credit. Ronald Reagan had a famous small plaque on his desk in the Oval Office that read, “there is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go if he doesn’t mind who gets the credit.” Few live by that creed—Keith embodied it.
Keith was a trusted advisor and steady hand during difficult times. At 59, he was a bit older than most congressional aides; but his extra years of experience were on full display when it was needed most. He navigated high-stress situations with poise, humor, and calmness. When a tornado devastated the town of Wynne this spring, Keith was the among the first people on the ground. He remained in constant communication with the mayor and other state and local officials. Anytime someone had a question about whom to contact, or what was going on, or what the locals needed, we knew that we could just ask Keith.
He was great at his job. But that wasn’t the most important thing about Keith for the people who worked with him. To work with Keith was like being adopted into the Stokes family. Some aides got a second father, while others got a fifth grandparent.
Keith’s coworkers would often get a text message in the morning from Keith just checking in and saying hello. If you didn’t reply, you could be sure he would follow-up quickly. Same thing if you were travelling overseas.
Each year, my aides across the state have a Christmas party. And each year, Keith would insist on barbecuing for the whole office. And each year he would cook too much and end up feeding much of the rest of the building, too.
During COVID, one of Keith’s coworkers had to cancel a planned wedding shower. As he drove across the state, he stopped for what he thought was an impromptu visit, only to find that Keith had organized a surprise wedding shower.
And for every parent in our office, Keith would get their kid’s sizes and begin a one-man recruitment campaign to make them fans of the University of Arkansas. Many Razorback onesies, hats, and shirts have made their way through our offices.
When one coworker lost her father and mentioned that she would miss talking to him on the phone each day, Keith began to call her every day—even on weekends. He only missed one call in three years. And when she was stuck in an ice storm without water and couldn’t drive her car, Keith drove over two hours at night in the bad weather to deliver water and a smile.
When another coworker tragically lost a child, Keith was there in that time of loss to provide comfort and prayers.
When asked to describe Keith, his coworkers use words like “humble,” “honest,” “loving,” “caring,” “professional,” “God-fearing,” and “gentleman.” One put it well when she said, “they don’t make ‘em like Keith anymore.”
There’s a reason that when Senate staffers came to Arkansas to visit, they fought over who would get to ride in the car with Keith.
While his coworkers knew Keith as beloved friend and colleague, most Arkansans knew Keith as the guy who raised Tusk. For those who don’t know—and you all should, let’s be honest—Tusk is the live mascot of the University of Arkansas. Other universities have easy, safe, and cuddly mascots to raise, like the Oregon Beavers, or the Georgia Bulldogs, or the Minnesota Gophers. Not Arkansas and not Keith: we have a Razorback, a 300-pound wild boar with giant tusks and a well-deserved reputation for a bad attitude.
For that reason, the University of Arkansas had long settled for a frankly embarrassing little pig as a live mascot, which traveled to games in a small trailer with little fanfare. But a little over 25 years ago, some former University of Arkansas football players decided to get a real, live Razorback mascot.
They turned to Keith, who had experience working hogs. They also asked for his help designing a large and impressive trailer so the new mascot could travel in style. Keith took on the challenge with his usual enthusiasm, determination, and positive attitude.
Ever since, Keith and his family have raised Tusk I through Tusk V. And I doubt any animals have ever been better treated or trained.
Keith devoted thousands of hours of his time to domesticate the Tusks so that they could safely interact with fans. Keith would have Tusk follow him around everywhere on the farm and even raised a baby Razorback in his home to acclimate it to human company.
Keith was such a good handler that young fans could safely feed grapes to these giant boars. Risk-takers could put an apple in their teeth and Tusk would gently take it from their mouth— at risk, though, of getting slobber on them.
Keith and Tusk became celebrities in the state. Arkansans from every walk of life enjoyed seeing Keith’s truck and giant trailer with the Razorback logo and Tusk riding in the back.
The Stokes family saw it as their responsibility to the state to take care of Arkansas’s prized mascot. Keith selflessly gave his time to Razorback fans, patiently answering their questions about Tusk and letting them play with Tusk, even handing out Tusk autographs.
If Keith heard that you hadn’t attended a Razorback game, well, he got you tickets. And if he heard that your kid had outgrown the last Razorback shirt he sent, a replacement would soon be on the way. He showed the same kindness and generosity to strangers. When he heard that a young fan with Down Syndrome was also a fan of Tusk, Keith went out of his way to be sure that he got to pet and feed Tusk.
One former Arkansas football player said that “Keith Stokes was Tusk” and that Keith “gave as much to the Razorbacks as any player or coach.”
But as much as Keith loved his friends, our state, and the Arkansas Razorbacks, he loved his family most of all. Keith and Julie were inseparable and brightened each other’s lives for 39 wonderful years of marriage. He was always so proud of his son Chip and his daughter Abbey. He joyfully welcomed his daughter-in-law Lori and son-in-law Tanner to the Stokes family; he walked Abbey down the aisle just this summer. And of course, he adored his grandchildren, Colt and Caroline—who called him George. He loved them all dearly and they all loved him.
Keith was a truly extraordinary man. It’s hard to believe that he had time to do all the things he did. Few people who lead full and long lives do as much good and spread as much joy as Keith Stokes did in his too-short 59 years with us.
Now, I do have to say that Keith wasn’t always right. One of his common jokes was that only six people would show up to his funeral and they would all be the pallbearers. Well, I was there and, boy, was he wrong. It wasn’t just six, or a dozen, or hundreds—more than 1,200 people came to mourn Keith’s loss and pay their respects to his family.
And Keith departed the funeral as he would’ve wanted. Instead of a traditional hearse, Keith’s bright, “Arkansas red” casket rested in the bed of the truck he used to transport Tusk. Attendees were encouraged to wear red and in accordance with his wishes, the Arkansas fight song took him to his final resting place. Keith’s final act was, once again, to add a small smile to his friends’ and family’s faces even in the depths of their sadness.
I was blessed to know Keith and I know he’s looking down from heaven right now blushing from all this attention. But he deserves it, and his family and friends down here deeply miss him.
Thank you, Mr. President. I yield the floor.
