I return to “March” to find myself in the middle of Freedom Summer violence, as an attacked bus burns while rights for African Americans are sought and died for.
I flip back to the TV news, and Philando Castile is dead after being stopped for a broken tail light.
I open “March” again and see the sorrow on young Lewis’s face when he and fellow protesters learn that President John F. Kennedy has just been assassinated in Dallas.
I log on to the present day to read that America’s worst mass shooting of police officers has just occurred at a protest in Dallas, mere blocks from where at least one sniper killed Kennedy.
Events a half-century apart feel fused, as if America has made no real progress at all.
I read the gut-wrenching “March” and John Lewis is leading many protesters in Selma. I sign in to Twitter and there I see video of Rep. John Lewis (-Ga.), now in his 70s, on the steps of the Capitol, leading a protest against the latest killings by police.
Past is present, and present is past. I turn to the inscription of the latest “March” graphic novel, and it reads: “To the past and future children of the movement.”
And so I turn to other American artwork today, freshly rendered, to mourn and remember and seek voices of clear truth amid the madness.
Here some of them are:
ROBERT ARIAIL (The State):
MIKE LUCKOVICH (Atlanta Journal Constitution):
PAT BAGLEY (Salt Lake Tribune):
NICK ANDERSON (Houston Chronicle):
STEVE SACK (Minneapolis Star Tribune):
DARRIN BELL (Washington Post Writers Group):