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Rest In Peace Congressman John Lewis


Sneezyone
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“Generations from now when parents teach their children what is meant by courage, the story of John Lewis will come to mind — an American who knew that change could not wait for some other person or some other time, whose life is a lesson in the fierce urgency of now."

— Barack Obama, on awarding John Lewis the Medal of Freedom

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“I happen to believe that the vote is sacred. It’s the most precious, non-violent right that we have.”  —Congressman John Lewis

I remember his acceptance of the national book award recalling how his civil rights journey was sparked by the refusal of the public library in Troy, Alabama to lend books to black Americans. This man was five years older than my dad. What a life.

ETA: May we all find the courage to get into #goodtrouble.

Edited by Sneezyone
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7 hours ago, LucyStoner said:

The March trilogy, by John Lewis, is a great addition to any homeschooler's library.  My sons loved them.  

People are also working to rename the Edmund Pettus bridge after John Lewis, which would be a fitting memorial.  

https://johnlewisbridge.com/

I was coming to post the same thing. Every household that can should have these books in its library. For those not familiar with March, it’s a graphic novel trilogy about the Civil Rights Movement and John Lewis’s place in it and it is brilliant. It’s an excellent introduction for children, but valuable for adults as well. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/March_(comics)

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I just linked this poem over on the other board.  I've read it about 20 times already this morning.

 

 

When Great Trees Fall

Maya Angelou

 

When great trees fall,

rocks on distant hills shudder,

lions hunker down

in tall grasses,

and even elephants

lumber after safety.



When great trees fall

in forests,

small things recoil into silence,

their senses

eroded beyond fear.



When great souls die,

the air around us becomes

light, rare, sterile.

We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,

see with

a hurtful clarity.

Our memory, suddenly sharpened,

examines,

gnaws on kind words

unsaid,

promised walks

never taken.


Great souls die and

our reality, bound to

them, takes leave of us.

Our souls,

dependent upon their

nurture,

now shrink, wizened.

Our minds, formed

and informed by their

radiance,
fall away.

We are not so much maddened

as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of
dark, cold

caves.



And when great souls die,

after a period peace blooms,

slowly and always

irregularly. Spaces fill

with a kind of

soothing electric vibration.

Our senses, restored, never

to be the same, whisper to us.

They existed. They existed.

We can be. Be and be

better. For they existed.

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I had to tell my son last night. We have been watching Eyes on the Prize. He had commented while watching it, you could still have hope because John Lewis was still alive. 

It feels like we have lost more than one man. And it's true, a whole generation is passing. I feel like I should be standing at attention.  Or pounding the floor with a cane and saying, like the John Adams character in 1776 (movie), "I say ye..."

I say ye John Lewis.

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