HIS WORDS AND ACTIONS should inspire all of us to do better, be better, both as individuals and as Americans. “He” is Georgia Congressman and civil rights leader John Lewis, who died five years ago on July 17.
Today I honor this man who left a legacy of strength in voice, power in actions and examples of righting racial injustices. In 1965, Lewis marched across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, for voting rights for Blacks. He coordinated voter registration drives, led the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. And in 1986, Lewis was elected a U.S. Congressman, a post he held until his death.
This son of Alabama sharecroppers and recipient of the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2011 was remarkable in his determination, in his commitment, in his desire to right wrongs and improve the lives of Blacks.
But what Lewis brought to this country extends beyond a singular issue. He understood the value of each individual voice and used his voice to make sure others understood that what they say and do matters.
In the years since his death, I’ve researched the congressman. And in doing so, I’ve discovered statements he’s made that resonate strongly. Here are a few examples:
“…get in good trouble, necessary trouble and help redeem the soul of America.”
“You must be bold, brave, and courageous and find a way…to get in the way.”
“My greatest fear is that one day we may wake up and our democracy is gone.”
“Never let anyone—any person or force—dampen, dim or diminish your light.”
I find each of those four statements especially empowering. They are calls to action. Messages meant to end complacency. Encouragement to each of us to speak up, to be heard. To shine our lights in our neighborhoods, communities, state, nation and world.
And if we ever feel that our voice is only one, that our words aren’t heard, that our actions don’t matter, Lewis offers this message: “Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful. Be optimistic.” Hope and optimism. Such positive words that are easy to read, but not always easy to believe. Yet, Lewis would want us to believe that things can get better.
In honor of Lewis, “Good Trouble Lives On” rallies are planned nationwide on Thursday, July 17, including here in Minnesota. The event is a national day of nonviolent action to respond to the current attacks on civil and human rights. From small towns like Madison in far western Minnesota to the Twin Cities metro and many other communities across the state, people will gather to let their voices be heard. Rallies in southeastern Minnesota are set in New Ulm, St. Charles, Winona, Stillwater and Northfield, the nearest to me. The Northfield protest is from 6-7:30 p.m. at Ames Park in the downtown area.
For more information about “Good Trouble Lives On” and to find a rally site, click here.
“Get in good trouble” and honor U.S. Representative John Lewis, a remarkable human being whose light still shines in America, strong and radiant.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
In which I protest, grieve & reflect June 19, 2025
Tags: America, assassination, commentary, government, grief, June 14, Minnesota, mural, news, NO KINGS protest, Northfield, protest, protest signs, reflections, Rep. Melissa Hortman, Sen. John Hoffman, thoughts, United States
I LEANED MY HEAD against Randy’s shoulder, my left hand gripping the rod of a protest sign and a small American flag. I felt such profound sadness in that moment. The moment when a pastor asked for a period of silence in honor of Minnesota State Representative/House Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, assassinated in their home during the early morning hours of June 14.
Flag Day. Nationwide NO KINGS protest day. A day of gathering turned tragic here in Minnesota.
I alternated between leaning into my husband and leaning my bowed head against the bottom of my NO MORE KINGS protest poster held high, the sign with the cursive words, “I value freedom,” scrawled on the back side. The wind blew, swept my hair across my face like a veil covering sadness. The heaviness felt palpable here, in Ames Park in Northfield, along the banks of the Cannon River. But so did the energy.
We were a group of hundreds—maybe even a thousand (I’m not good at estimating crowd size)—gathered to publicly express our concerns about leadership in this country, about decisions being made that negatively affect all of us, about the state of and future of our democracy… It was my first protest. Ever. I wanted, needed, to be here. To remain silent seems complicit.
I’d already arrived when a friend texted that Minnesotans had been advised by state law enforcement not to attend NO KINGS protests. That warning linked to the suspect in the shootings of the Hortmans and of State Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette. We would later learn that NO KINGS fliers were found in the vehicle of Vance Boelter, now accused in the double murders and attempted murders.
That explained why, on the way to the riverside protest, I overheard a woman telling a couple that her police officer son had advised her not to participate in the rally. She was going home. I was not. Nor were any of the others converging on Ames Park at noon. I wasn’t scared. Vested safety people, trained in conflict resolution and de-escalation, were in place. I felt safe in the masses, which, I suppose, is an unrealistic perspective. But I refuse to be silenced by fear, by the words and actions of those who attempt to suppress voices. And intimidate.
And there were those, including the drivers of a white pickup truck and of motorcycles which repeatedly roared past the rally site, spewing their opposition in noise and in political flags bannering messages I won’t repeat. But they, too, have a right to protest. Peacefully. Just as I do. And I wrote that on the back of a second sign: FREE to PROTEST. But, mostly, passing vehicles honked in strong support.
At this rally of people opposing the current administration and its policies and actions, I felt a unity of purpose and a deep, cohesive concern for the future of our country. I felt uplifted, embraced, empowered. Speakers spoke (although I couldn’t hear most). The pastor led us in prayer. We sang—”The Star Spangled Banner” and “We shall overcome.” We cheered. We chanted. We waved our posters and flags. And a group held an over-sized American flag, which I couldn’t see from my vantage point deep in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
We were mostly an older group. Baby Boomers. Grandparents. Even octogenarians. Perhaps some protested during the Vietnam War. Or served this country. We’ve lived a few years, enough decades to understand that we need to rise up against authoritarianism. Enough to understand what’s at stake. But there were some young people, too, like the dad behind me with his preschool daughter playing in the grass. He clearly cares, if not for himself, but then for his child.
The morning after the NO KINGS protest, I left for Madison, Wisconsin, to spend time with my 5-month-old grandson (and his parents). As I snuggled Everett, I thought, he (and my other two grandchildren) are part of the reason I chose to protest. Their lives stretch before them. I want them to live in a country where they are free. Free. I want them to live under a government based on a three-pronged system of checks and balances, not one ruled by a king or some version of a king or dictator. I want them to live in a kind, caring and compassionate country. Not a selfish, uncaring, divisive nation filled with hatred.
I returned to Minnesota yesterday and am catching up on laundry and writing. And, along with my fellow Minnesotans, I’m collectively grieving the assassination of an elected official and her husband. And I’m thinking, this is what it’s come to in Amercia…
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling