Sarah Palin - Going Rogue: An American Life

SARAH

PALIN

So I got involved. I served first on the Wasilla City Council, then two terms as mayor, helping turn our sleepy little rown into the fastest-growing communiry in the state. Then I served as an oil and gas regulator, overseeing the energy industry and encouraging responsible resource development, Alaskas main economic lifeline. In 2002, as my second mayoral term wound down, my husband, Todd, and I began ro consider my next step. With four busy kids, I would certainly have enough going on ro keep me occupied, even if I chose ro put public service aside. And for a while, I did. But I still felt a restlessness, an insistent tugging on my heart that rold me there wete additional areas whete I could contribute.

From what I could see from my position in the center of the state, the capital ofJuneau seemed stocked mainly with good 01

boys who lunched with oil company executives and cut fat-cat deals behind closed doors. Like most Alaskans, I could see that the votes of many lawmakers lined up conveniently with what was best for Big Oil, sometimes ro the detriment of their own constituents.

When oil began flowing from Prudhoe Bay in 1977, billions of dollars flowed into state coffers with it. The state raked in more revenue than anyone could have imagined-billions of dollars almostovernight! And the politicians spent it. Government grew rapidly. One quarrer of our workforce was employed by state and local governments, and even more was tied to the state budget through contracts and subsidies. Everyone knew there was a certain amount of back-scratching going on. But an economic crash in the 1980s collapsed the oil boom. Businesses closed and unemployment soared. During the oil boom, anyone who questioned the governments giving more power ro the oil companies was condemned: What are you trying to do, slay the golden goose? But when the boom 4

Going Rogue

went bust, the golden goose still ruled the roost. By then, state government was essentially surrendering its ability ro act in the best interests of the people. So I ran for governor. I didnt necessarily get into government to become an ethics crusader. But it seemed that every level of government I encountered was paralyzed by the same politicsas-usual system. I wasnt wired to play that game. And because I fought political corruption regardless of party, GOP leaders distanced themselves from me and eventually my administration, which really was fine with me. Though I was a registered Republican, 1d always been without a political home, and now, even as governor, I was still outside the favored GOP circle. I considered that a mutually beneficial relationship: politically, I didnt owe anyone, and nobody owed me. That gave me the freedom and latitude to find the best people to serve Alaskans regardless of party, and I was beholden only to those who hired me-the people of Alaska.

Still in the RTL booth, Piper said she was ready to go. She was antsy to stop by the fairs hula hoop contest, so I hurriedly shook a couple more hands and gathered Trig back from the nice lady who had asked to hold him.

I had certainly gotten off on the wrong foot with the Republican Party by daring to take on the GOP Chairman Randy Ruedrich, and then incumbent Governor Frank Murkowski. Party bosses werent going to let me forget that I had broken their Eleventh Commandment-Thou shalt not speak ill of a fellow Republican-even if Murkowski did have a 19 percent approval rating, his chief of staff would later plead guilty to a felony charge, and it appeared corruption was growing at a breakneck pace. I didnt have time to waste embracing the status quo and never had it in me to play the partys game. That just meant 1d have to work harder, advancing the state not on the currency of traded favors but on the strength of ideas that proved themselves good 5

SARAH

PALIN

for the people. This was the only way r d found to transform a grudging bureaucracy into a team that could try to reform government and shrink its reach into our lives. Since being elected governor in 2006, I had managed to rack up an 88 percent approval rating, and though I didnt put much stock in fickle polls, I figured my administration must be doing something right. To me, it signaled that Alaskans, with their independent spirit, wanted principle-centered policies, not the same old politicsas-usual. I was grateful. All I wanted was the chance to work as hard as I could, serve the people honorably-and I figured that maybe berween changing state government and changing diapers, wed help change our corner of the world. In the RTL booth, I smiled, dropped some dollars into the contribution can, and didnt care who might be watching, including local reporters. Alaskans knew my pro-life views-no news there. At that moment, one of my BlackBerrys vibrated me back to work. I was thankful for the excuse to hustle hack into the sunshine. Piper tugged on my arm with sticky fingers, whispering reminders that r d promised if she was patient r d take her a roller-coaster ride, too.

Just this one last call, baby, I told her. I ducked behind the booth, hoping it was my son Track calling from his Army base at Fort Wainwright. He was set to deploy to Iraq soon, and his sporadic calls were something I lived for.

But in case it wasnt Track, I offered up a silent fallback prayer: Please, Lord, just for an hour, anything but politics. I punched the green phone icon and answered hopefully, This is Sarah.

It was Senator John McCain, asking if I wanted to help him change history.

Going Rogue

From Sandpoint, Idaho, where I was born, via Juneau, Alaska, I touched down in rhe windy, remore fronrier town of Skagway cradled in my mothers arms. I was just three months old, and barely sixty days had passed since rhe largest earrhquake on record in Norrh American history srruck Alaska, on Good Friday, March 27,1964.

The southwestern coasr had bucked and swayed for nearly five full minutes, shaking down a rock rain of landslides and avalanches. Whole mounrainsides of snow tumbled into rhe valleys. Near Kodiak, rectonic shifrs rhrusr sections of the ground rhirty feet skyward, permanently. In Seward, an enrire chunk of waterfront detached itself from the coast and slid into Resurrection Bay. Twenty minutes later, a towering tsunami swallowed the shore, carrying with it a sheet of oil that burned on the