When I was nine, our church had a father and son banquet, and the speaker for the evening was Wray Carlton, a running back with my beloved Buffalo Bills. I made quite a fuss about how unfair it was that I couldn’t meet him because I was a girl, so my dad arranged for me to help in the kitchen and then introduced me to Carlton at the end of the evening. I was in seventh heaven for weeks!
I’ve met a few other famous people over the years, including Marilyn Quayle, the vice president’s wife who toured our Salvation Army building in Cleveland Hough, and actors Ted Danson and Mary Steenburgen on the political trail. But when I think about who I would like to sit down with for a long conversation, high on my list is Freedom Fighter and Congressman John Lewis. We didn’t meet in this life, and now, with news of his death last weekend, I will have to settle for the stories told by others.
John Robert Lewis packed lots of living into his eighty years. The stories flowed this week, as many shared their memories of a man who made a powerful impact on each person he met. As a child, Lewis dreamed of being a preacher but struggled with stuttering, so he lined up the chickens for his impassioned sermon. At eighteen, Lewis wrote a letter to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., telling of his interest in the civil rights movement, and King purchased a bus ticket for Lewis so the two could meet. “Dr. King, I am John Robert Lewis,” he remembered saying. “And that was the beginning.” John Blake described the place John Lewis held in our day: “He is that rare unifying political figure who commands respect from the left and right, someone who can call his political foes ‘brother’ with virtually no one questioning whether he means it.”
Beyond his leadership in the civil rights movement and in the halls of congress, these days of remembering give us a glimpse into the spirit of John Lewis. One video clip shows him dancing to Pharrell’s “Happy” during a campaign event in Georgia – at the age of seventy-eight, he could still “bust a move.” Michelle Obama noted: “Even as he spent a lifetime marching, and sitting in, and getting arrested, his feet kept on dancing. Congressman Lewis shows us that while the struggle and pain is all too real, fighting for each other – and paving the way toward something better for our kids and grandkids – can and should be a source of real and lasting joy.”
My favorite Lewis story describes his relationship with a young boy. In 2018, Tybre Faw begged his grandmothers to drive seven hours so he might see the famed Civil Rights leader at the commemoration of the 1965 march for voting rights on Selma’s Edmund Pettus Bridge. Ten-year-old Tybre had his sign ready: “Thank you Rep. John Lewis. You have shown me how to have courage, raw courage.”
Reporters Dana Bash, Jeremy Moorhead and Bridget Nolan remember that day. Noticing Tybre and his sign, they connected the congressman’s staff with the boy and his grandmothers so he could meet his hero. “Tybre’s eyes welled up with tears the minute he saw Lewis, who came over, read the sign and hugged him as he spoke quietly to the boy who hung on every word. None of us who witnessed the meeting could keep from crying. Even Capital Police officers there – trained to be stoic – were unable to hold back their tears. It was one of the most powerful moments any of us had ever witnessed, and we all knew it.”
Unlike Tybre, I never met the iconic congressman, but Lewis’ words remain. “Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.” Even in death, his friend John is still teaching Tybre – and all of us – about courage. Dance on, Mr. Lewis.
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