Presidential Election Recap: McCain, Obama Both Shine

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With a landslide victory all but apparent, CNN called the outcome just moments after West Coast polls closed. Senator John McCain conceded with an address that may have been his most humble and accepting of the entire campaign season. Waving down the occasional boos from the crowd gathered in Arizona, he congratulated his opponent and urged his supporters to offer up "good will and earnest effort to find ways to come together, to find the necessary compromises, to bridge our differences, and help restore our prosperity, defend our security in a dangerous world, and leave our children and grandchildren a stronger, better country than we inherited." In defeat, McCain finally channeled the grace and integrity that engendered the respect of his fellow senators and countrymen during his decades-long career.

President-Elect Barack Obama followed that up an hour later with a soaring victory speech that gave voice to the collective catharsis felt by many around the world after a harrowing and often exhausting two-year-long campaign. He extended an olive branch to all Americans, saying, "To those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. I need your help. And I will be your president, too."

The best moment of the address came when Obama recounted the story of 106-year-old Ann Nixon Cooper, a black woman from Atlanta who witnessed firsthand a century of monumental progress, and, compelled by the weight of that cumulative experience, stood in line yesterday to vote with everyone else.

Since we can't do it justice, we're just going to reprint part of that transcript:

This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight's 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, 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.

Back in Austin, faint shouts of "Obama!" and the sound of fireworks crackling could be heard echoing in the darkness into the wee hours of the night. The Driskill was a champagne-fueled madhouse, with a line outside of eager revelers snaking around the building. One fellow near the watch party in French Place that we attended took to his scooter once the election was called, and spent a good thirty minutes zipping up and down the small residential streets while pumping his horn, cheered on by curious witnesses in packed living rooms.

It was of little surprise that these scenes, which doubtlessly played out simultaneously in small towns and mammoth cities across the country, seemed altogether cinematic in nature—for many, it was the fitting denouement in an 8-year-long drama punctuated by occasional moments of absurdist comedy.

Of course, as Obama himself suggested last night, this was merely the fulcrum point—the "chance for change" as opposed to change itself. The real work begins in January, but, at least for many folks right now, the promise of progress is reason enough to celebrate.