But there is no loot in peace and progress. No fireworks. No material profit. Today, selfless service is for losers.
Mr. Lewis stared down fire hoses, dogs, and police batons. He proudly bore the scars and skull fractures to prove it.
Children delighted when Mr. Lewis — physically, not much taller than them — donned his Sunday overcoat and shrugged on his backpack to re-enact his famous 1965 march in Selma across the Edmund Pettus Bridge into the snapping jaws of German Shepherds and the crack of nightsticks wielded by troopers mounted on horseback.
That Bloody Sunday certainly was not a joyous occasion for Mr. Lewis but he generously re-enacted it for children and remembered it endlessly for Americans of all ages with charity for all and malice toward none — a posture in sorely short supply these days, yet without which America never heals.
Can you imagine anyone of these nasty thugs rioting today, firebombing police stations, and pulling down statues behaving with the strength and grace of Mr. Lewis? Not one of them could have survived even a sliver of the injustice Mr. Lewis overcame.