Barack Obama's Eulogy for John McCain
Former President Barack Obama delivered a eulogy Saturday morning honoring the life of John McCain, who died last week after a decades-long career in the Senate. In a pair of surprise requests last spring, the Arizona lawmaker had asked Obama and former President George W. Bush, both of whom had defeated him in national campaigns, to give the eulogies at his memorial service at the National Cathedral in Washington.
Below, the full text of Obama’s remarks as delivered.
To John's beloved family, Mrs. McCain, to Cindy and the McCain children, President and Mrs. Bush, President and Secretary Clinton, Vice President and Mrs. Biden, Vice President and Mrs. Cheney, Vice President Gore, and, as John would say, my friends: We come to celebrate an extraordinary man, a warrior, a statesman, a patriot who embodied so much that is best in America. President Bush and I are among the fortunate few who competed against John at the highest levels of politics. He made us better presidents, just as he made the Senate better, just as he made this country better. So, for someone like John to ask you while he is still alive to stand and speak of him when he is gone is a precious and singular honor.
Will tech save or ruin us?
Listen to Derek Thompson’s podcast, Crazy/Genius, to see where you side.
Now, when John called me with that request earlier this year, I'll admit sadness and also a certain surprise. But after our conversation ended, I realized how well it captured some of John's essential qualities. To start with, John liked being unpredictable, even a little contrarian. He had no interest in conforming to some prepackaged version of what a senator should be and he didn't want a memorial that was going to be prepackaged either. It also showed John's disdain for self-pity. He had been to hell and back and yet somehow never lost his energy or his optimism or his zest for life. So cancer did not scare him. And he would maintain that buoyant spirit to the very end, too stubborn to sit still, opinionated as ever, fiercely devoted to his friends and, most of all, to his family. It showed his irreverence, his sense of humor, a little bit of a mischievous streak. After all, what better way to get a last laugh than to make George and I say nice things about him to a national audience. And most of all, it showed a largeness of spirit, an ability to see past differences in search of common ground.
And, in fact, on the surface, John and I could not have been more different. We're of different generations. I came from a broken home and never knew my father. John was the scion of one of America's most distinguished military families. I have a reputation for keeping cool—John, not so much. We were standard-bearers of different American political traditions, and throughout my presidency, John never hesitated to tell me when he thought I was screwing up—which by his calculation was about once a day. But for all our differences, for all of the times we sparred, I never tried to hide, and I think John came to understand, the long-standing admiration that I had for him. By his own account, John was a rebellious young man. In his case, that’s understandable—what faster way to distinguish yourself when you're the son and grandson of admirals than to mutiny. Eventually, though, he concluded that the only way to really make his mark on the world is to commit to something bigger than yourself. And for John, that meant answering the highest of callings: serving his country in a time of war.
No comments:
Post a Comment