The nuances of a Memphis agitator, Sara Lewis, as told by her son. Lewis died recently at 87

In 1984, Aaron Lorenzo Lewis Jr., then a union representative at the U.S. Postal Service, was on his way to argue a grievance when he stopped in his tracks; he had just seen the most beautiful woman in all of existence, right there in his office building.

Days after first beholding his future wife, marriage was on Aaron Lewis' mind when he went over to his parents' house, Sara and Aaron Lorenzo "Lo" Lewis Sr., for a customary check-in.

"I said, 'Mom, I think I met the woman I'm going to marry,'" Lewis said. "She looked at me and said, 'that poor child.'"

Sara Lewis' retort is an encapsulation of the Sara Lewis Memphis has long known and loved, and now mourns. The no-holds-barred spitfire and relentless education advocate passed away Monday in her home. She was 87.

The lore of Sara Lewis swelled over a decades-long career, started with a teaching position at Georgia Avenue Elementary in the 1960s and kept advancing, at a rapid clip, with various leadership appointments: principal of Lauderdale Elementary, president of the Principals Association, secretary of the then-called Memphis Education Association, assistant superintended to former Memphis Mayor Willie Herenton's tenure as Memphis City Schools superintendent, a 16-year stint as a board member, and executive director of a pair of local and federal nonprofit programs — Free the Children and Head Start.

Tributes to Sara Lewis peppered throughout social media contain themes ranging from her teaching prowess and her take-no-prisoners approach to policy discussions, to the endless passion for what she felt was right.

But, Aaron Lewis said, his mom was "very, very private, to the point of being a recluse" and selective about who could see her in her entirety. The lore of Sara Lewis that looms large in Memphis is often an incomplete picture.

Aaron Lewis shared a bit more about his late mother, snapshots often overlooked in a decades-long legacy.

A labor organizer and post-retirement "troublemaker" himself, Aaron Lewis absorbed lessons in advocacy, by direct example, as he grew up.

He said he first began to understand there was something "unusual" about his parents in the 60s after Sara Lewis penned an op-ed criticizing former Memphis Mayor Henry Loeb in his first term.

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The death threats came soon after, but Sara Lewis didn't flinch.

"I want people to understand, the fire she had, it came from my father and his brothers. I'm sure of it," Aaron Lewis said. "The men in my family were tall, gregarious, brilliant and dangerous men. They let it be known in no uncertain terms, that if a hair on her head was harmed, there would be hell to pay."

During the turbulent period of public school integration, the Lewis family were active participants in the social push for integration and plotted details of civic actions in their house. Aaron Lewis recalls Civil Rights giants like Rev. James Netters and Judge Russell Sugarmon floating in and out of the frame.

And though Sara Lewis directly influenced integration in Memphis, she remained critical of it; integration in theory would push the needle forward for education equity between white students and students of color, but she did not believe this was the outcome in Memphis.

"During the sit-ins in the 1960s when schools were integrated, my mom made it very clear that schools were never integrated, they were just desegregated," Aaron Lewis said. "She held that opinion until she passed."

At home though, she read stacks of nonfiction, building her wealth of knowledge. She absorbed current events with skepticism. She talked on the phone, frequently. She also shopped a lot.

"Oh my God. All of us were subjected to those grueling hours in department stores. She had to touch every item that she walked by. If she loved it, she bought it, and gave it away," Aaron Lewis said.

As the years ticked by, her influence grew and her analysis of education systems became a sought-after commodity, to the point where former Vice President Al Gore would phone her for advice on national education policy during the Clinton-Gore reelection campaign in 1996.

When her husband passed away in 2001, Sara Lewis doubled down on her advocacy. Sara and Lo Lewis were married for 49 years; she had to fill that space somehow. Various administrative positions and a school stint partly filled the gap.

"He was absolutely the yin to her yang. She was so devastated," Aaron Lewis said.

In the last few years of her life, Sara Lewis advised the next generation of hell-raisers. Members of the Coalition of Concerned Citizens sat in her living room, soaking up the lessons learned. She impressed upon others the importance of asking a question that you already knew the answer to.

In her view, poverty was a business in Memphis. She held a fierce criticism for entities like Memphis Tomorrow and the Chamber of Commerce; she viewed the groups as "everything wrong in Memphis" due, in part, Aaron Lewis said, to their wanton touting that Memphis is prime for employers looking to hire scores of low-wage workers.

Sara Lewis held her fury at the injustices she saw plainly until her last days, particularly with the school board members who orchestrated the merger of Memphis City Schools and Shelby County Schools in 2013 for one year before the district fractured and splintered off into smaller suburban districts that left the new Shelby County Schools system, now Memphis-Shelby County Schools, as the de-facto "have nots."

"I don't believe she ever forgave them," Aaron Lewis said.

Now in the aftermath of her passing, her son, grandchildren, daughter-in-law, nieces and nephews are turning over the memories of the matriarch in all her complexity. Aaron Lewis points back to the day he told his mom his intention to marry the most beautiful girl in the world, when she showed the side of her she kept so private.

"I said 'Mom, I need to give her a gift.' She said, 'I have just the thing for her.' And she goes away and comes back with two brooches, mother-of-pearl brooches. The first gift I gave to my wife was a gift from my mom to her," he said.

Micaela Watts is a reporter for The Commercial Appeal covering issues tied to hospitals, healthcare, and resource access. She can be reached at micaela.watts@commercialappeal.com.

This article originally appeared on Memphis Commercial Appeal: Sara Lewis, Memphis education advocate until her last days, dies at 87