When State Sen. Jack Hill died on Monday evening, state leaders rightly acknowledged that we lost a smart, kind, and respected public servant, a man who knew Georgia’s budget inside and out, a man who led with integrity but served with humility.
But I lost a dear friend of three decades.
Jack Hill and I won our elections to the State Senate in the same year, 1990. Our hometowns, Reidsville and Bonaire, are connected by a string of rural small towns, well off the beaten path, full of farmland, good people of faith and a deep work ethic, and a sense of community.
When the class of 1990 drew for seniority, Jack and I wound up with consecutive numbers, which meant we would be sharing an office space and an executive assistant. We figured out we liked each other, so we decided to become roommates during the legislative session, too.
I quickly found this man from Tattnall County to be a kindred spirit. When he came to Atlanta, Jack brought with him the sensibility of a local grocer, a man who knew his customers and their families by name, who worked hard to meet payroll and treat his employees right, and who was a proud part of the civic fabric of his town. He also brought with him the dogged determination and courage of an Air Force colonel, a distinction he earned and proudly wore.
At all times, Jack was motivated by what was right: family, faith, and freedom. He believed that we should earn things through sweat equity and ingenuity, but he was never deaf to a fellow Georgian in need. He balanced sound, conservative policy with compassion and generosity. That kind of leadership is forged in small towns just like Reidsville, where you truly know your neighbors, celebrating their successes but, more important, helping them out when times are rough.
For the better part of a decade, Jack and I would assemble each January, work hard for our districts, and, come March, close up our apartment and head back home to Ruth Ann and Mary, respectively. In that, he was the epitome of a citizen-legislator. He never thought the Gold Dome was his home. Instead, he believed public service was an opportunity to return something to those who helped him grow and succeed.
And, because he wanted to serve, there’s not a single Georgian today who isn’t impacted by his wisdom: no student in any school, no small business owner, no hard worker, no family with special needs, no one who enjoys our state parks, no one at all. They may not know his name, but they benefit from his work, and, honestly, that is how Jack would have wanted it.
Like any good friends, Jack and I had occasional disagreements about policy or politics. But we came of age in an era where such disagreements were just an opportunity for civil conversation and compromise. We never let party or position come between our friendship, because we genuinely respected each other.
When I think of Jack, I won’t think of him in his Senate office. I won’t think of him on the campaign trail. I won’t think of him in a caucus meeting. Instead, I’ll think of my friend in his hometown, behind the counter in his grocery store or with his wife at Reidsville Baptist, being part of the community that gave him so much, and that he served so well.
Mary and I send our love and heartfelt condolences to Ruth Ann and Jack’s three children and seven grandchildren.
Sonny Perdue is U.S. Agriculture Secretary and a former governor of Georgia.
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