It’s a cocktail like any other, until it’s not.
That’s in 2014. We were a small organization built up in a corner of Atlanta’s National Center for Civil and Human Rights.
It was night and the room illuminated through warm ambient lighting interrupted through spotlights bouncing off tearing screens.
The closed museum, open only to us and for our safety.
There was a transit bar on our right, with some small tables and chairs and an elongated candlelit table with invitations to app-d’oeuvres. The sophisticated smells of pesto, cheese and roasted tomatoes were to be ignored.
We were one of the 35th elected prosecutors in the entire county, prosecutors opposed to gun violence.
When I first walked into the beautiful museum, I knew I was lucky to be there. I didn’t know how lucky she had come 20 minutes later.
I walked to the bar, had a glass of chardonnay and turned to my best friend, The Los Angeles District Attorney, Jackie Lacey.
Suddenly, I literally stopped dry through the resonant voice of a wonderful guy. A younger boy was by his side.
The wonderful boy diverted our attention through his position, his confidence and the resonant sound of his voice, however, intuitively attracted me to the younger boy next to him.
The wonderful guy started talking, but welcoming his prominent visitors from all over the county to Atlanta or the museum, he started with an apology from all of us.
“Congressman Lewis, on behalf of all the prosecutors accumulated in this room, I would like to speak to you for the way prosecutors treated you in the past.
I don’t do anything yet, atlanta district attorney Paul Howard said, because from the moment he spoke of John Lewis’s name, my eyes were fixed on him.
In reaction to the apology, Congressman Lewis nodded warmly and kindly, saying nothing in return.
Unlike the rest of the people in the room, he didn’t seem to want to hear the sound of his own voice.
When, despite everything, I looked the other way, I looked up at Jackie and knew we had the same expression, one that looked a lot like the picture shown by two teenage women sitting side by side at Shea Stadium in 1964, looking at the Beatles.
As soon as District Attorney Howard finished talking, I approached Jackie and said, “Let’s meet him.” She surrendered temporarily and said. “Let’s pass!”
In retrospect, I suspect we looked like two very nervous teenage fanatics, huddled together, who were coming to a celebrity in search of their autograph.
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We brought each other. He took each of our hands into his own, but I do not do as it was said; Which is that I found it grateful.
Jackie remembers mentioning one of her relatives in Los Angeles. I’m sure it’s his way of reassuring us.
With this gesture, I asked him if we could take a picture with him. He accepted kindly.
Then he asked if we’d ever been to the museum. We didn’t, so he showed up to pay us a private visit.
What!?! John Lewis will show us the museum he helped create and tell us about when he and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. became national icons!
I couldn’t even look at Jackie so we wouldn’t start laughing with joy.
The first photograph I saw with him was the outstanding photo of him on the Pettus Bridge.
I said, “It’s me.” He said.
At the time I thought, “Duh, it was like George Washington would walk us to his performance at the White House and say, “That’s me.”
Congressman Lewis said those words with little emotion: it’s just a fact, he and he precisely where he sought to be.
I saw him look at the picture. To appreciate it, as if he still had something to gain from it.
The next thing I do is walk to the march photo in Washington. Jackie tells us how worried she was about this event.
Then I walk from one exposure to another with him, feeling almost incredibly proud to be in his presence and choosing not to speak. It was a silence encouraged by fear, which was the only one that broke when he wanted to offer us a deeper vision.
As we continued walking, others approached him, and as much as I did not want, I strayed to give them their moment to the sun.
I never interrupted him to say goodbye. I just left, hoping he’d notice, but he’d already gone to his next grouping meeting, which made them feel as special as he had for Jackie and me.
Part of our attempt to get into “good trouble” is to look for systemic racism in our own organizations, law enforcement agencies, and communities to make a good contribution to making the positive changes mandatory.
Me, God Speed, Congressman Lewis.
May he rest in peace knowing that his call to equality through nonviolence will continue to motivate us and future generations.
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