By The Associated PressMon Aug 25, 11:04 PM ET
Prepared remarks of Michelle Obama, wife of Democratic
presidential candidate Barack Obama, for her address to the Democratic
National Convention on Monday night in Denver, as released by the Obama
campaign:
OBAMA:
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.
Thank you, God bless you, and God bless America.