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August 26, 2008 As you might
imagine, for Barack, running for President is
nothing compared to that first game of
basketball with my brother Craig.
I can't tell you how much it
means to have Craig and my mom here tonight.
Like Craig, I can feel my dad looking down on
us, just as I've felt his presence in every
grace-filled moment of my life.
At six-foot-six, I've often
felt like Craig was looking down on me
too...literally. But the truth is, both when
we were kids and today, he wasn't looking down
on me - he was watching over me.
And he's been there for me
every step of the way since that clear
February day 19 months ago, when - with little
more than our faith in each other and a hunger
for change - we joined my husband, Barack
Obama, on the improbable journey that's
brought us to this moment.
But each of us also comes here
tonight by way of our own improbable journey.
I come here tonight as a
sister, blessed with a brother who is my
mentor, my protector and my lifelong friend.
I come here as a wife who
loves my husband and believes he will be an
extraordinary president.
I come here as a Mom whose
girls are the heart of my heart and the center
of my world - they're the first thing I think
about when I wake up in the morning, and the
last thing I think about when I go to bed at
night. Their future - and all our children's
future - is my stake in this election.
And I come here as a daughter
- raised on the South Side of Chicago by a
father who was a blue collar city worker, and
a mother who stayed at home with my brother
and me. My mother's love has always been a
sustaining force for our family, and one of my
greatest joys is seeing her integrity, her
compassion, and her intelligence reflected in
my own daughters.
My Dad was our rock. Although
he was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in
his early thirties, he was our provider, our
champion, our hero. As he got sicker, it got
harder for him to walk, it took him longer to
get dressed in the morning. But if he was in
pain, he never let on. He never stopped
smiling and laughing - even while struggling
to button his shirt, even while using two
canes to get himself across the room to give
my Mom a kiss. He just woke up a little
earlier, and worked a little harder.
He and my mom poured
everything they had into me and Craig. It was
the greatest gift a child can receive: never
doubting for a single minute that you're
loved, and cherished, and have a place in this
world. And thanks to their faith and hard
work, we both were able to go on to college.
So I know firsthand from their lives - and
mine - that the American Dream endures.
And you know, what struck me
when I first met Barack was that even though
he had this funny name, even though he'd grown
up all the way across the continent in Hawaii,
his family was so much like mine. He was
raised by grandparents who were working class
folks just like my parents, and by a single
mother who struggled to pay the bills just
like we did. Like my family, they scrimped and
saved so that he could have opportunities they
never had themselves. And Barack and I were
raised with so many of the same values: that
you work hard for what you want in life; that
your word is your bond and you do what you say
you're going to do; that you treat people with
dignity and respect, even if you don't know
them, and even if you don't agree with them.
And Barack and I set out to
build lives guided by these values, and pass
them on to the next generation. Because we
want our children - and all children in this
nation - to know that the only limit to the
height of your achievements is the reach of
your dreams and your willingness to work for
them.
And as our friendship grew,
and I learned more about Barack, he introduced
me to the work he'd done when he first moved
to Chicago after college. Instead of heading
to Wall Street, Barack had gone to work in
neighborhoods devastated when steel plants
shut down, and jobs dried up. And he'd been
invited back to speak to people from those
neighborhoods about how to rebuild their
community.
The people gathered together
that day were ordinary folks doing the best
they could to build a good life. They were
parents living paycheck to paycheck;
grandparents trying to get by on a fixed
income; men frustrated that they couldn't
support their families after their jobs
disappeared. Those folks weren't asking for a
handout or a shortcut. They were ready to work
- they wanted to contribute. They believed -
like you and I believe - that America should
be a place where you can make it if you try.
Barack stood up that day, and
spoke words that have stayed with me ever
since. He talked about "The world as it is"
and "The world as it should be." And he said
that all too often, we accept the distance
between the two, and settle for the world as
it is - even when it doesn't reflect our
values and aspirations. But he reminded us
that we know what our world should look like.
We know what fairness and justice and
opportunity look like. And he urged us to
believe in ourselves - to find the strength
within ourselves to strive for the world as it
should be. And isn't that the great American
story?
It's the story of men and
women gathered in churches and union halls, in
town squares and high school gyms - people who
stood up and marched and risked everything
they had - refusing to settle, determined to
mold our future into the shape of our ideals.
It is because of their will
and determination that this week, we celebrate
two anniversaries: the 88th anniversary of
women winning the right to vote, and the 45th
anniversary of that hot summer day when Dr.
King lifted our sights and our hearts with his
dream for our nation.
I stand here today at the
crosscurrents of that history - knowing that
my piece of the American Dream is a blessing
hard won by those who came before me. All of
them driven by the same conviction that drove
my dad to get up an hour early each day to
painstakingly dress himself for work. The same
conviction that drives the men and women I've
met all across this country:
People who work the day shift,
kiss their kids goodnight, and head out for
the night shift - without disappointment,
without regret - that goodnight kiss a
reminder of everything they're working for.
The military families who say
grace each night with an empty seat at the
table. The servicemen and women who love this
country so much, they leave those they love
most to defend it.
The young people across
America serving our communities - teaching
children, cleaning up neighborhoods, caring
for the least among us each and every day.
People like Hillary Clinton,
who put those 18 million cracks in the glass
ceiling, so that our daughters - and sons -
can dream a little bigger and aim a little
higher.
People like Joe Biden, who's
never forgotten where he came from, and never
stopped fighting for folks who work long hours
and face long odds and need someone on their
side again.
All of us driven by a simple
belief that the world as it is just won't do -
that we have an obligation to fight for the
world as it should be.
That is the thread that
connects our hearts. That is the thread that
runs through my journey and Barack's journey
and so many other improbable journeys that
have brought us here tonight, where the
current of history meets this new tide of
hope.
That is why I love this
country.
And in my own life, in my own
small way, I've tried to give back to this
country that has given me so much. That's why
I left a job at a law firm for a career in
public service, working to empower young
people to volunteer in their communities.
Because I believe that each of us - no matter
what our age or background or walk of life -
each of us has something to contribute to the
life of this nation.
It's a belief Barack shares -
a belief at the heart of his life's work.
It's what he did all those
years ago, on the streets of Chicago, setting
up job training to get people back to work and
afterschool programs to keep kids safe -
working block by block to help people lift up
their families.
It's what he did in the
Illinois Senate, moving people from welfare to
jobs, passing tax cuts for hard working
families, and making sure women get equal pay
for equal work.
It's what he's done in the
United States Senate, fighting to ensure the
men and women who serve this country are
welcomed home not just with medals and
parades, but with good jobs and benefits and
health care - including mental health care.
That's why he's running - to
end the war in Iraq responsibly, to build an
economy that lifts every family, to make
health care available for every American, and
to make sure every child in this nation gets a
world class education all the way from
preschool to college. That's what Barack Obama
will do as President of the United States of
America.
He'll achieve these goals the
same way he always has - by bringing us
together and reminding us how much we share
and how alike we really are. You see, Barack
doesn't care where you're from, or what your
background is, or what party - if any - you
belong to. That's not how he sees the world.
He knows that thread that connects us - our
belief in America's promise, our commitment to
our children's future - is strong enough to
hold us together as one nation even when we
disagree.
It was strong enough to bring
hope to those neighborhoods in Chicago.
It was strong enough to bring
hope to the mother he met worried about her
child in Iraq; hope to the man who's
unemployed, but can't afford gas to find a
job; hope to the student working nights to pay
for her sister's health care, sleeping just a
few hours a day.
And it was strong enough to
bring hope to people who came out on a cold
Iowa night and became the first voices in this
chorus for change that's been echoed by
millions of Americans from every corner of
this nation.
Millions of Americans who know
that Barack understands their dreams; that
Barack will fight for people like them; and
that Barack will finally bring the change we
need.
And in the end, after all
that's happened these past 19 months, the
Barack Obama I know today is the same man I
fell in love with 19 years ago. He's the same
man who drove me and our new baby daughter
home from the hospital ten years ago this
summer, inching along at a snail's pace,
peering anxiously at us in the rearview
mirror, feeling the whole weight of her future
in his hands, determined to give her
everything he'd struggled so hard for himself,
determined to give her what he never had: the
affirming embrace of a father's love.
And as I tuck that little girl
and her little sister into bed at night, I
think about how one day, they'll have families
of their own. And one day, they - and your
sons and daughters - will tell their own
children about what we did together in this
election. They'll tell them how this time, we
listened to our hopes, instead of our fears.
How this time, we decided to stop doubting and
to start dreaming. How this time, in this
great country - where a girl from the South
Side of Chicago can go to college and law
school, and the son of a single mother from
Hawaii can go all the way to the White House -
we committed ourselves to building the world
as it should be.
So tonight, in honor of my
father's memory and my daughters' future - out
of gratitude to those whose triumphs we mark
this week, and those whose everyday sacrifices
have brought us to this moment - let us devote
ourselves to finishing their work; let us work
together to fulfill their hopes; and let us
stand together to elect Barack Obama President
of the United States of America. |
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