

The people I meet in small towns and big cities, in diners and office parks, they don't expect government to solve all their problems. Louis, and thousands more like her, who has the grades, has the drive, has the will, but doesn't have the money to go to college.ĭon't get me wrong. More to do for the young woman in East St. More to do for the father I met who was losing his job and choking back tears, wondering how he would pay $4,500 a month for the drugs his son needs without the health benefits he counted on.

More to do for the workers I met in Galesburg, Illinois, who are losing their union jobs at the Maytag plant that's moving to Mexico, and now are having to compete with their own children for jobs that pay seven bucks an hour. And fellow Americans - Democrats, Republicans, Independents - I say to you tonight: we have more work to do. This year, in this election, we are called to reaffirm our values and commitments, to hold them against a hard reality and see how we are measuring up, to the legacy of our forbearers, and the promise of future generations. That we can participate in the political process without fear of retribution, and that our votes will be counted - or at least, most of the time. That we can have an idea and start our own business without paying a bribe or hiring somebody's son. That we can say what we think, write what we think, without hearing a sudden knock on the door. That we can tuck in our children at night and know they are fed and clothed and safe from harm. That is the true genius of America, a faith in the simple dreams of its people, the insistence on small miracles. That among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

That they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights. Our pride is based on a very simple premise, summed up in a declaration made over two hundred years ago, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. Tonight, we gather to affirm the greatness of our nation, not because of the height of our skyscrapers, or the power of our military, or the size of our economy. I stand here knowing that my story is part of the larger American story, that I owe a debt to all of those who came before me, and that, in no other country on earth, is my story even possible. I stand here today, grateful for the diversity of my heritage, aware that my parents' dreams live on in my precious daughters. Yet, I know that, on this night, they look down on me with pride. They imagined me going to the best schools in the land, even though they weren't rich, because in a generous America you don't have to be rich to achieve your potential. They would give me an African name, Barack, or "blessed," believing that in a tolerant America your name is no barrier to success. My parents shared not only an improbable love they shared an abiding faith in the possibilities of this nation. Bill, bought a house through FHA, and moved west in search of opportunity.Īnd they, too, had big dreams for their daughter, a common dream, born of two continents. Back home, my grandmother raised their baby and went to work on a bomber assembly line. The day after Pearl Harbor he signed up for duty, joined Patton's army and marched across Europe. Her father worked on oil rigs and farms through most of the Depression. She was born in a town on the other side of the world, in Kansas. While studying here, my father met my mother. Through hard work and perseverance my father got a scholarship to study in a magical place America which stood as a beacon of freedom and opportunity to so many who had come before. His father, my grandfather, was a cook, a domestic servant.īut my grandfather had larger dreams for his son. He grew up herding goats, went to school in a tin-roof shack. My father was a foreign student, born and raised in a small village in Kenya. Tonight is a particular honor for me because, let's face it, my presence on this stage is pretty unlikely. On behalf of the great state of Illinois, crossroads of a nation, land of Lincoln, let me express my deep gratitude for the privilege of addressing this convention.
