It was a hot day, but a day of tremendous hope. As I stood at the Lincoln Memorial on Aug. 28, 1963, preparing to give my speech to the 250,000 gathered, I could actually imagine our building an interracial democracy. In the sea of humanity before me, I saw blacks and whites, Protestants, Catholics and Jews. I saw people in my organization, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, wearing buttons with a black hand shaking a white hand--and that became our symbol. We really did believe in integration and in the creation of what we called "the beloved community." The march grew out of the powerful movement gathering force in the South. There had been a series of demonstrations against segregation--in lunch counters, restaurants and bus stations. Our friends had been jailed, beaten, battered by fire hoses and attacked by dogs. Medgar Evers had been shot dead in Mississippi. I had almost lost my life in Montgomery, Ala, at the Greyhound bus station, when I was beaten unconscious. By '63, there was a sense that we all had to go to Washington to push for integration and justice. We were petitioning the government with our feet, with our voices and with our sense of dignity. And out of that we won the landmark civil-rights laws that ended Jim Crow forever. So it distresses me when I see efforts now to resegregate America. As we did in the old days, we must fight for an integrated society. That's what we were marching for in 1963. But I cannot say the same about the Million Man March. I cannot overlook past statements by Louis Farrakhan--and others associated with the Nation of Islam--which are divisive and bigoted. Although its general goat of encouraging African-American men to be responsible is sound, the march is fatally undermined by its chief sponsor. And Dr. King would never have called for an all-black march. I am not going to attend because it goes against what I have worked for -- tolerance, inclusion, integration. The Million Man March is supposed to create solidarity within the African-American male community. But do we want to be separate and stand apart? No. I believe that not only is integration morally right, it is a practical necessity for African-Americans. As a minority, blacks are destined to become worse off economically and socially--not better --if we isolate ourselves. To advance, we all must move up or down together. That's why I was alarmed by the reaction to the O. J. Simpson verdict. It was sad for me to see blacks cheering the acquittal as some kind of racial victory. And I know better than most the long history of the criminal-justice system's abuse of black people. I remember standing out in the Alabama fields in 1955 as a 15-year-old when I heard that Emmett Till, a black teenager, had been lynched and found in Tallahatchie County, Miss., only to have an all-white jury acquit the white men who later confessed to the crime. I know the history. We're going through a very upsetting period. Thirty years ago, I thought we would be much further down the road toward an integrated society by now. Today, when I speak about the "beloved community," I feel like a square. Some people agree with me but are afraid to talk about it, afraid they will be considered old-fashioned. Some say Dr. King's ideals have been tested and are no longer viable. But I think these principles are immutable. We must not separate ourselves. We have to believe in the possibilities of one America, one community, one house, one family. Questions: 1. Divide this text into two main parts and give each one a title. 2. What is John Lewis's ideal?