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| Going rogue
by Sarah Palin | |
Alternative Titles
| Going rogue: an American life | |
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Summary
| On September 3, 2008 Alaska Governor Sarah Palin gave a speech at the Republican National Convention that electrified the nation and instantly made her one of the most recognizable women in the world.As chief executive of America′s largest state, she had built a record as a reformer who cast aside politics-as-usual and pushed through changes other politicians only talked about: Energy independence. Ethics reform. And the biggest private sector infrastructure project in U.S. history. While revitalizing public school funding and ensuring the state met its responsibilities to seniors and Alaska Native populations, Palin also beat the political "good ol′ boys club" at their own game and brought Big Oil to heel.Like her GOP running mate, John McCain, Palin wasn′t a packaged and over-produced "candidate." She was a Main Street American woman: a working mom, wife of a blue collar union man, and mother of five children, the eldest of whom was serving his country in a yearlong deployment in Iraq and the youngest, an infant with special needs. Palin′s hometown story touched a populist nerve, rallying hundreds of thousands of ordinary Americans to the GOP ticket.But as the campaign unfolded, Palin became a lightning rod for both praise and criticism. Supporters called her "refreshing," "honest," a kitchen-table public servant they felt would fight for their interests. Opponents derided her as a wide-eyed Pollyanna unprepared for national leadership. But none of them knew the real Sarah Palin.In this eagerly anticipated memoir, Palin paints an intimate portrait of growing up in the wilds of Alaska; meeting her lifelong love; her decision to enter politics; the importance of faith and family; and the unique joys and trials of life as a high-profile working mother. She also opens up for the first time about the 2008 presidential race, providing a rare, mom′s-eye view of high-stakes national politics - from patriots dedicated to "Country First" to slick politicos bent on winning at any cost.Going Rogue traces one ordinary citizen′s extraordinary journey, and imparts Palin′s vision of a way forward for America and her unfailing hope in the greatest nation on earth. | |
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Biographee
| Occupation | Governors | |
| Mayor | |
| Politicians | |
| Attributes | American | |
| Married | |
| Mother | |
| Republican | |
| Christian | |
| First female Republican Vice Presidential candidate in 2008; first female governor of Alaska (2006-2009); youngest person ever elected governor of Alaska; former Mayor of Wasilla (1996-2002); recounts her political experiences | |
Genre
| NonFiction | |
| Political | |
| Memoir | |
Topics
Setting
Time Period
| 1990s-2009 -- 20th-21st century | |
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On September 3, 2008 Alaska Governor Sarah Palin gave a speech at the Republican National Convention that electrified the nation and instantly made her one of the most recognizable women in the world.As chief executive of America′s largest state, she had built a record as a reformer who cast aside politics-as-usual and pushed through changes other politicians only talked about: Energy independence. Ethics reform. And the biggest private sector infrastructure project in U.S. history. While revitalizing public school funding and ensuring the state met its responsibilities to seniors and Alaska Native populations, Palin also beat the political "good ol′ boys club" at their own game and brought Big Oil to heel.Like her GOP running mate, John McCain, Palin wasn′t a packaged and over-produced "candidate." She was a Main Street American woman: a working mom, wife of a blue collar union man, and mother of five children, the eldest of whom was serving his country in a yearlong deployment in Iraq and the youngest, an infant with special needs. Palin′s hometown story touched a populist nerve, rallying hundreds of thousands of ordinary Americans to the GOP ticket.But as the campaign unfolded, Palin became a lightning rod for both praise and criticism. Supporters called her "refreshing," "honest," a kitchen-table public servant they felt would fight for their interests. Opponents derided her as a wide-eyed Pollyanna unprepared for national leadership. But none of them knew the real Sarah Palin.In this eagerly anticipated memoir, Palin paints an intimate portrait of growing up in the wilds of Alaska; meeting her lifelong love; her decision to enter politics; the importance of faith and family; and the unique joys and trials of life as a high-profile working mother. She also opens up for the first time about the 2008 presidential race, providing a rare, mom′s-eye view of high-stakes national politics - from patriots dedicated to "Country First" to slick politicos bent on winning at any cost.Going Rogue traces one ordinary citizen′s extraordinary journey, and imparts Palin′s vision of a way forward for America and her unfailing hope in the greatest nation on earth.
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Sarah Louise Palin (née Heath; born February 11, 1964) is an American politician who served as Governor of Alaska from 2006 until her resignation in 2009. She grew up in Alaska towns, from Skagway to Wasilla to Anchorage, while her dad taught science and coached high school sports. She and her future husband, Todd Palin, graduated from Wasilla High School in 1982. In 1984, after winning the Miss Wasilla pageant, she finished third in the Miss Alaska pageant, receiving the "Miss Congeniality" award and a college scholarship. She went on to earn her college degree from the School of Journalism at the University of Idaho. <p> Palin served two terms on the Wasilla City Council, then two terms as the city's mayor and manager, and was elected by her peers as president of the Alaska Conference of Mayors. During her first year in office, Palin kept a jar with the names of Wasilla residents on her desk. Once a week, she pulled a name from it and picked up the phone; she would ask: "How's the city doing?" She then chaired the Alaska Oil and Gas Conservation Commission, and the Interstate Oil and Gas Compact Commission. She was elected Alaska's youngest, and first female, governor, serving from 2006 to 2009. While serving her state she was tapped as Senator John McCain's running mate in 2008, becoming the first female Republican Vice Presidential candidate in our nation's history. <p> On July 3, 2009, Palin announced she would not seek reelection as governor and that she was resigning, effective July 26, 2009, eighteen months prior to the completion of her first term. She cited ethics complaints that had been filed following her selection as running mate to John McCain as the reason for her resignation, saying the resulting investigations had affected her efficacy to govern the state. <p> The Palins reside in Wasilla with their five children, including a son in the U.S. Army, and one grandson. They enjoy an extended family throughout Alaska and the Lower 48. (Bowker Author Biography)
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No good deed goes unpunished. Just ask Steve Schmidt, John McCain's campaign manager and the guy who pushed Sarah Palin as McCain's running mate. Now, in Palin's much-hyped book, he's just a fat, smoking bullet-head who told her to stick to the script. The feeling running through Going Rogue is that Palin has been bursting to take a whack at those she believes didn't do right by her during the campaign. (Katie Couric, we're looking at you!) Before readers get to that, however, there's personal biography. We're introduced to Sarah the reader loved to read the basketball player, hunter, wife, mother. Then lots and lots of Alaska politics, which will probably be a little hard even for people from Alaska to plow through. (Scores are settled here, too.) Once Palin gets into the 2008 campaign, the tone is folksy, but the knives are out. Much has been made of her criticisms of Schmidt and another McCain staffer, Nicolle Wallace. But less has been said about Palin's comments about Barack Obama. For instance, she notes that when she and husband Todd first heard Obama speak, they saw the wow factor but worried that his smooth talk would hide his radical ideas. She also implies that Obama wanted to shield only his own children from the press, though, in fact, in September 2008, he told CNN that Palin's children must be off limits as well. Ronald Reagan's name is mentioned by page 3 and invoked regularly throughout. There's no doubt Palin sees herself as heir to his legacy. But many readers will see the Sarah Palin revealed in these pages as much closer to George Bush, someone you'd like to have a beer with. Or perhaps dinner: I always remind people from outside our state that there's plenty of room for all Alaska's animals right next to the mashed potatoes. --Cooper, Ilene Copyright 2009 Booklist
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Going Rogue
An American Life
Chapter One
The Last Frontier
I don't believe that God put us on earth to be ordinary.
—Lou Holtz
It was the Alaska State Fair, August 2008. With the gray Talkeetna Mountains in the distance and the first light covering of snow about to descend on Pioneer Peak, I breathed in an autumn bouquet that combined everything small-town America with rugged splashes of the Last Frontier. Cotton candy and foot-long hot dogs. Halibut tacos and reindeer sausage. Banjo music playing at the Blue Bonnet Stage, baleen etchings, grass-woven Eskimo baskets, and record-breaking giant vegetables grown under the midnight sun.
Inching through rivers of people with Trig, our four-month-old son, cradled in my arms, I zigzagged from booth to booth, from driftwood art to honeybee keeping to home-brewed salmon-berry wine. Bristol and Willow, our teenage daughters, roamed ahead with friends, heads together, laughing, thumbs tapping cell phones. Piper, seven, my constant sidekick since the moment she was born, bounced along at my hip, pinching off fluffs of cotton candy, her reward for patiently accommodating my stop-and-go progress through the crowd. For the most part, she was comfortable watching the grip-and-grin photos and hearing the friendly chitchat with constituents that I enjoyed as part of my job as governor of the state. Every few moments, I pulled my right arm free from baby duty to shake hands with folks who wanted to say hello.
"Hey, Sarah! You never miss the fair!"
"Oh, my goodness, is that the new little one? Let me say hi to him . . ."
"Price of energy's pretty high, Governor. When are they gonna ramp up drilling?"
A robin's egg sky arced overhead, the brisk kick in the air hinting at winter's approach. Like a family conga line, we wound our way among the vendors and exhibits: from pork chops on a stick to kettle corn, veggie weigh-ins, and livestock competitions. A local dance troupe took to the stage and the music blared, competing with the constant hum of generators and squealing kids on rides. Ahead, on my right, I saw the Alaska Right to Life (RTL) booth, where a poster caught my eye, taking my breath away. It featured the sweetest baby girl swathed in pink, pretend angel wings fastened to her soft shoulders.
"That's you, baby," I whispered to Piper, as I have every year since she smiled for the picture as an infant. She popped another cloud of cotton candy into her mouth and looked nonchalant: Still the pro-life poster child at the State Fair. Ho-hum.
Well, I still thought it was a nice shot, as I did every time I saw it on its advertisements and fund-raiser tickets. It reminded me of the preciousness of life.
It also reminded me of how impatient I am with politics.
A staunch advocate of every child's right to be born, I was pro-life enough for the grassroots RTL folks to adopt Piper as their poster child, but I wasn't politically connected enough for the state GOP machine to allow the organization to endorse me in early campaigns.
From inside the booth, a very nice volunteer caught my glance, so I tucked my head inside, shook hands, and thanked the gracious ladies who put up with the jeers of those who always protested the display. With their passion and sincerity, the ladies typified the difference between principles and politics. As I signed the visitors' book, I saw Piper's picture again on the counter and became annoyed at my own annoyance. I still hadn't learned to accept the fact that political machines twist and distort public service—and that, a lot of times, very little they do makes any sense.
Years before, I had seen our state speeding toward an economic train wreck. Since construction began in 1975 on what would become Alaska's economic lifeline, the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, it had grown increasingly obvious to everyday Alaskans that many of their public servants were not necessarily serving the public. Instead they had climbed into bed with Big Oil. Meanwhile, in a young state whose people clung to America's original pioneering and independent spirit, government was growing as fast as fireweed in July.
It didn't make sense.
It seemed that true public service, crafting policies that were good for the people, had become increasingly derailed by politics and its infernal machines. But I had a drive to help, an interest in government and current events since I was a little kid, and I had become aware of the impact of common sense public policy during the presidency of Ronald Reagan. I was intrigued by political science in college and studied journalism because of my passion for the power of words. And I had been raised to believe that in America, anyone can make a difference.
So I got involved. I served first on the Wasilla City Council, then two terms as mayor, helping turn our sleepy little town into the fastest-growing community in the state. Then I served as an oil and gas regulator, overseeing the energy industry and encouraging responsible resource development, Alaska's main economic lifeline. In 2002, as my second mayoral term wound down, my husband, Todd, and I began to consider my next step. With four busy kids, I would certainly have enough going on to keep me occupied, even if I chose to put public service aside. And for a while, I did. But I still felt a restlessness, an insistent tugging on my heart that told me there were additional areas where I could contribute.
From what I could see from my position in the center of the state, the capital of Juneau seemed stocked mainly with "good ol' 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 to 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 almost overnight! And the politicians spent it. Government grew rapidly. One quarter 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.
Going Rogue
An American Life. Copyright © by Sarah Palin . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
Excerpted from Going Rogue: An American Life
by Sarah Palin
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