Before You Cut Governor Palin Off At The Mukluks, At Least Take An Instant To Understand Whence She Comes

I'm a Nevadan. Now. But I grew up in Colorado, Oregon, Massachusetts, California, Washington, Illinois, Texas, Arizona, Hawaii...and I learned that each state has its own personality and its own slate of residents that adore it.

Well, my son was born in Alaska. I spent two years there. Up in North Pole, Alaska, just outside of Fairbanks. And I learned a lot about that unique state and how one comes to feel about it. Let me illuminate my readers...which is more than what the sun does for Fairbanks for a good chunk of the year.

In a nutshell, Alaska is as beautiful as it is harsh and those that stay there like the trade-offs just fine, thank you very much.

Let me give you a glimpse of the harsh: my son was born in October (under a midnighty sky at 3PM) so he accompanied me as an infant on my trips to the store throughout the winter. No big deal, you might think. Uh, uh. Here's the routine...I'd pull up to the store and strap on my baby carrier, then pull on my coat (warm down to -60 degrees). Thus armed, I'd get out of my door, plug in my car, then climb into the back door where my son was in his car seat. After strapping him into the baby carrier on my chest and zipping up my coat so that he was concealed inside it, I got out of the car again and headed for the store. Once inside, I'd shed the coat and let my son surface. Then, when we'd finished shopping it was time to do it all again in reverse. Sounds like a process, but in truth, it got to be routine with my only constant worry being whether I'd blocked every square inch of cold from my son's head, which was silly because that head was always sporting a cozy cap.

Of course, you don't want to stay too long in the store in the particularly cold weather because, while plugging in the engine block saves your car, the tires can actually square themselves to the ground if they are immobile for hours. I always had a perverse curiosity to actually see that happen but, happily, never got the chance to test it.

On the flipside of the year, an Alaskan deals with critters. And I'm not talking about the moose that walk up driveways or the bears that pad by. I mean the little critters that suck the fun out of the sunshine as well as the blood from your veins. I once wrote an article comparing them to Air Force jets: first come the big, slow-moving skeeters—the ones that over-winter as adults. They're the B-52's. They never get ya since you can swat 'em like flies. But watch out, next come the F-15's...with their targets locked on, they seldom miss. But the Fairbanksian isn't through yet. After the Eagles soar past, in come the Stealth Fighters. These you don't see. But you sure hear 'em, usually right in your ear just as you're about to drop off to sleep.

Yep, just when you've had enough of wearing six layers of clothing and want to welcome that almost 24-hour sun and 80 degree days...you have to wear jeans and a jeans shirt because I found Levi's to be the only thing that effectively thwarted the Skeeter Armies.

And try to shop the catalogs or online in Alaska. I dare ya. Do you ever notice the fine print in advertisements, speaking to shipping terms? Along the lines of '...except for Alaska and Hawaii' or '...offer not valid in Alaska and Hawaii'. These clauses translate to 'You're going to pay almost as much in shipping as you are for the product you want, my prettys....!'

For those who think the windfall of the permanent fund (my son received his first cheque before he was four months old) is a tidy little operation—it's not. It doesn't even hint at offsetting the daily costs of living in the American version of the Outback.

But what you get from all this is not frustration or misery, but a sort of strength that only heightens with each new challenge that nature presents. And as well, you connect with the elements in an armed detente sorta way.

Most importantly though, is the camaraderie that comes from sharing a land that never makes things very easy. More so than most states in which I've resided, the denizens of the 49th feel more like a vast family. You can hear it when an Alaskan takes a vacation beyond the state's borders: he or she is 'going outside'. If you're relatively new to the state, you're a 'cheechako' until you earn the respected moniker of 'sourdough'.

Governor Palin is a sourdough. And her husband, a native son, is even sourer. And, as in Nevada, a real burr in a sourdough Alaskan's side is the fact that most of the state is owned and operated by the federal government. (In point of fact, the government has its teeth in almost 85% of Nevada while almost 70% of the Land of the Midnight Sun is public land. To all you states without this widespread infusion of federal intrusion, please do not sit in judgment.) Well, Alaska, like Nevada, chafes constantly at the federal bit and is unrelenting in its determination to run its own state, without government interference. When that government interference comes in the form of aid, though, Alaskans are no different than any other state's residents.

So now come the accusations that Governor Palin was for the 'bridge to nowhere' before she was against it. Of course she was for it. (Until it became the poster child for excess earmarks, at which time she wisely tossed it back.) As an example: here in Nevada we have the wonderful and unique V & T Railroad. As is the case with so many historical things, the rails were torn up many decades ago and now we're busily trying to put them back, for so much more money than it cost to put them down originally it's not even funny (though it's certainly ironic). Now do you think if the federal government, the same one that runs 85% of our state, offers us many millions to restore our V & T...do you think our lawmakers would decline the funds? (If you do, I got a bridge to sell ya...)

And the governor of Alaska wants to open the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. No duh. It's in their state, they figure, and why shouldn't they benefit from it? Funny thing—I spent a short time in Juneau lobbying to keep ANWR pristine and untouched and now I look back on it, man, was I a cheechako. And a hypocrite. Nowadays, I have very little patience with out-of-staters that come to Nevada and tell us we must accept the country's nuclear waste at Yucca Mountain.

So it's all in how you look at things, I guess. But it helps if you paint a landscape behind the subject.