Ba-rockin' Grant Park on Election Night

Click here to see more pictures from my night at Grant Park

I will never forget Election Day in Grant Park. An estimated 150,000 people showed up to watch the fate of the 2008 Presidential Election, the culmination of two years of hard campaigning that finally brought Senators John McCain and Barack Obama to the political ring.

The "USA" on the building to the left was florescent office lights situated from about 10 floors

I thought it would take days, or even weeks to get a definite answer on the outcome. I didn't expect to watch McCain address his fans in Arizona to conceed defeat. I never expected to be among the crowds of a hometown hero and the first "official" black American President as he gave his acceptance speech.

I'll never forget the optimism of the mass group of supporters. So many different faces, all with equal anticipation of celebration, and a true spirit of love: for eachother, for America. I've never caught so many acknowledging smiles so many times in one night.

Even the CPD serving as crowd control smiled before and after the election results

Before Pennsylvania's electorate announced their decision, the Chicago crowd's energy pointed to blue. The same went for Virginia. And then California. And then, somehow, Obama won. It's funny how people respond to hope's manifestation of reality. After so long, with such a volitile American identity through the spirit of the campaign trail, the answer came.


The energy from this crowd was contagious. Everyone was hugging and kissing and crying with the collective catharsis of relief and gratitiude to the constituents who voted for something new and different. When Barack finally walked on the stage, those of us outside the tickets-only section huddled around the Jumbotrons stationed on some of Downtown Chicago's busiest blocks:

"This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She's a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing - Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old. She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons - because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin. And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America - the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can. At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can. When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can. When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can. She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that "We Shall Overcome." Yes we can. A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can. America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves - if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made? "