Going Rogue: An American Life (116 page)

Going Rogue

Times
and the
Washington Post
stalked my patents at a July Foutth patade to ask how they felt about the pending indictment. Meg and Shaton were inundated with press inquiries demanding confirmation. Kristan Cole, Heather, and the rest of the family were snowed under again by media calls. Soon reporters ftom every major media outlet abandoning their Fourth of July barbecues, hopping on planes, and heading to the Last Ftontiet to report all the juicy details.

It
was a majot letdown fot them, though. Even as theit planes were cruising above “Byover countty,” the FBI’s Alaska spokesman went on the tecord to declare that I was not undet investigation and had never been undet investigation.

Poor press. At that moment” the
B
in “FBI” stood for “Buzzkill.” The teportets landed in Anchorage anyway, looked around, and said, “Well, now what? Whete is she?”
It
was an eatly July weekend, and I was where I always am at that time of year-at set-net site in Bristol Bay slaying salmon duting the quick two-day peak of the run. We had no

phone coverage, and there was only one landline in my motherin-law’s home where the fishing crew crashed. I had a satellite phone for state communicatiqns during my annual two days away from the office, but the reporters had traveled all the way ftom the East Coast and they weren’t leaving without a
personal interview.

So we decided to invite them to join us: “Welcome to Dillingham!” Secretly, I must admit that I really wanted to see the likes of Andrea Mitchell on my home turf witnessing how happy and at peace my family was. The last time I had seen Andrea was many months prior at our friends Fred and Marlene Malek’s Virginia home with a number of distinguished “inside the Beltway”

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PALIN

guests, such as Dick Cheney, Alan Greenspan, Dianne Feinstein, Madeleine Albright, Walter Isaacson, Jeb Bush, and my friend John McCain. Now

wanted to see Andrea and her colleagues

sporting fish-slimed waders, banging around in a skiff, stuck in rhe mud, and trying to pull themselves back over the bow. At the very least they’d see there’s no diva in me. Bring on the mosquitoes and horseflies, the wind and the driving rain!

We issued an open invitation for the press (except for CBS). If they wanted to come, they could, but we could spare only a half hour between tides to anchor up and speak with them. We also told them to bring their own rain gear and prepare to be introduced to a few fish scales. The major media outlets took us up on the offer and within a few short hours landed in Dillingham, along with their crews, and accepted rides with our family and friends or hired local guys to drive them onto the gravel beach
nearest our site.

I always love introducing reporters to remote areas of Alaska: it gives them a better sense of our state’s vastness, diverse people, and subsistence lifestyles as well as an appreciation for Native culture. The reporters were told they would have ten minutes each on the beach before the tide changed. Then Todd and I would skiff them down to our site. We’d grab Piper on the way so she could teach a couple of them how to drive the boat-and she did.

But the question they all asked was the one I had already answered: “Why?” They just couldn’t believe that a politician would willingly give up power and title for good reasons. Instead, there had to be some huge scandal chasing me out of office. But there was no scandal. There was no FBI investigation, no greedy grasp for money, no divorce. And it sure wasn’t because I disliked my job-I loved my job. The decision wasn’t about me. It was about Alaska. It was as simple as I’d said it was.

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Going Rogue

They didn’t act as if they believed me, of coutse. They asked if my decision had to do with seeking higher office. No. If that alone had been my ambition, I would have finished out my term, as all the talking heads had said I should. I knew full well that resigning might be a political death sentence. One of the only commentators who called it right was Mary Matalin, who noted that my strategy would disarm my opponents and free me up to travel and raise money and awareness for worthy causes. The reporters headed home, many still shaking their heads. Their whirlwind visit had provided a little economic stimulus for Dillingham, but it was not a great day for the hardcore, messy fishing I had wanted to show them. Instead of typical Bristol Bay weather, it was sunny, hot, and calm, so-dang it-none of

them got slimed.

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Chapter Six

The Way Forward

Sarah’s not retreating;

reloading’!

HEATH SR.

M ylasttriptoFairbanksasgovernotwasptettymagical. We spent a busy three weeks finalizing the smooth transition of power. Then we filled the motor home with kids and coffee and headed up to Fairbanks, where the Palin-Parnell administration had been inaugurated in the Nanooks’ hockey arena. The weather was perfect, and thousands of Alaskans and tourists were there to enjoy the ceremony. A number of the Alaska reporters who made the trek to the Golden Heart City told Meg they wanted to ,say goodbye and expressed concern that they would be out of a job once we left. Apparently we were good for business. And, really, that’s got to be the nicest compliment you can give to a pro-free-market fiscal
conservative.

In
my farewell speech, I reminded Alaskans ofhow we’d moved the state “North to the Future;’ as our state motto says. I said

SARAH

PALIN

goodbye to the governot’s office but hello to new opportunities fot the people. I got to thank the state I dearly love. Our drive back to Wasilla was full of cranked-up Southern tock music, and we stopped along the highway to toast hot dogs and make s’mores over a campfire. I took a few minutes to tell my family how much I appreciated them riding that toller coaster with me, and we looked forwatd to driving down the road ro whatever was ahead.

Since leaving office I’ve frequenrly been asked, “What does Sarah Palin stand fot? What’s your vision fot the future?” I welcome the opportunity to shate it. Keep in mind, I tell my parents the greatest gift they ever gave me, besides building a foundation of love for family and for healthy competition, was an upbringing in Alaska. The pioneeting spirit of the Last Frontiet has shaped me.