Going Rogue: An American Life (10 page)

SARAH PALIN

My ears perked up. A week later, between our pickup basketball scrimmages in the Warrior gym, I finally met rhis mystery guy. When I saw him, my world turned upside down. I actually whispered/Thank you, God.”

Todd Palin roared into my life in a 1972 Ford Mustang. Handsome and independent, he was part Yupik Eskimo and had moved to Wasilla from Dillingham, a fishing town on the chilly, rugged shores ofBristol Bay. Todd was only sixteen and had come ro rown to play his senior year of basketball on a strong Warriors squad, a goal that coincided with career opportunities for his parents. His newly remarried father, Jim Palin, was in line to run the local electric utility. His stepmom, Faye Palin, would move up ro vice president at the telephone company.

Todd was so different from any kid I’d ever known. He made all his own decisions, from finances to future plans. Not only was he one of the only kids in rown who owned his own ride-he owned
two,
the Mustang and a 1973 Ford F-150 long-bed pickup that he used to haul a pair of Polaris snowmachines. By the time I met him, he had honed an independent spirit and a sterling work ethic that drew me like a magnet, and would help define me and clarify my life’s priorities more than anything else. Todd thought nothing of doing things like driving the fifty miles into Anchorage by himself anytime he wanted to, which was a big deal to the rest of us, who had neither vehicles nor parents who would let us do such a thing. Todd had purchased his rigs himself, which blew us away because not many Valley kids had such luxuries, much less owned them outright. He didn’t come from a family but from a

very hardworking family. He waS a commercial fisherman, drifting red salmon in the rich waters of Brisrol Bay. It was his Native family’s tradition ro make their livelihood and subsist on the water. Todd made more money as a young teen in one fishing

•

•

Going Rogue

season than 1’d made with all the jobs 1’d

held, combined

over many years.

Todd’s‘ grandmother Lena, who is almost ninety, is a Yupik Eskimo elder and was one of the first female commercial fishermen on the bay. His grandfather Al Andree was a boatbuilder. Togerher Al and Lena helped start the Bristol Bay fishery in the 1930s, drifting for salmon from sailboats, navigating the frigid winds and ebb and flow of the tides, figuring out even on windless days how to get fish to the tenders, where they sold for just a nickel apiece. The women braved the icy chop, the fish slime, rhe blood, and the stench, out there fishing with the men, and Lena was one of the first.

Todd started fishing Bristol Bay at a very young age and grew up in this multigenerational industry. Lena saw the fishery as a God-given resource that provided for the family. She believed in sweat equity. Using commercial fishing as an economic bootstrap, Todd’s family owned and operated the town’s hardware store, hotel, mechanic shop, and other businesses, ultimately employing scores of people. Their efforts in free enterprise became an economic engine in rhe region.

The Palin-Kallstrom family was also the most generous I have ever met, willing to give the shirts off their backs for those in need. Todd’s morher, Blanche Kallstrom, ran her businesses that way and has been materially blessed for being so generous to
others.

Todd has always had great respect for Alaska’s environment. Through meeting him and his family, I began to truly appreciate not only Alaska’s natural diversity bur irs social diversity, too. Todd came from a different world than I, with this huge, exotic family that splintered off in several directions and was impacted • 3 5

•

SARAH

PALIN

by some of the societal ills that plague Native villages in Alaska. Though his upbringing was unconventional and tough at times, Todd bnte down and built a reputation fot wotking hatdet than men twice his age-men who had fat mote tools and advantages than this kid who shuffled among patents’, grandpatents’, and gteat-gtandpatents’ homes. Todd had what is uniquely beautiful in out Native cultute-“cousins” evetywhete. It’s tradition that even a second ot thitd cousin is tefetted to as “cousin,” and his family seemed to have hundteds.

Todd witnessed things that many Ameticans nevet will. Thete ate tough conditions in some villages, and the hatsh citcumstances lead some to abuse both alcohol and each othet, and societal ills that include despondency and suicides. Todd saw it all. He also saw oppottunities to teact to citcumstances in productive ways.

Despite his steel cote, Todd was shy and quiet in demeanot, typical of Yupik men, who, unlike some others, don’t feel the need to fill up the air around them with words all the time. He was also incredibly well-mannered and polite to my parents, who were smitten with his work ethic and his constant offers to help anyone who needed anything. He stacked firewood for Dad and drove my mom out to the mountains so she could find the perfect skiing conditions. He picked up Molly and me for practices so we wouldn’t have to walk. Todd and Dad hit it off because not only could Todd fix anything, but Dad had never met anyone who had an even greater respect for Alaska and her wildlife than we did.

My family fell in love with Todd right along with me. Coming from a family full of very strong,

women,

Todd didn’t find me a surprise in that way. But he tells me that he was most attracted to my solid family. He was crazy about my parents and knew that if they were such good family people, we had the potential to continue that tradition. As we grew up and

,

.]6

‘

Going Rogue

grew togerher, our prioriries became apparenr. Neither of us was inro heavy-duty materialism. We weren’t into fancy food, fancy clothes, fancy anything. He was very practical: he bought his car because he needed transportation; he bought his truck to haul his snowmachines.

We certainly had differences.

I was broke. I was nerdy. I played the flute.

He cussed. He chewed. He didn’t go to church.

But when he told me he had become a Christian and had been baptized at a sports camp a few years earlier, rhat was the clincher for me.

Amidst our hometown group of friends’ shared inrerests, difference after difference struck me with Todd. He seemed so much more enlightened than the rest of us and had such a sense of justice. He hated gossip and pretension. He hated prejudice. He opposed any physical disrespect of the land, from litter to irresponsible developmenr. He talked about respect for nature, especially for the warers he was born and raised on. He truly was a conservationist and was adamant about using every part of any animal he hunted.

I admired Todd’s great reverence for his elders, especially his wise grandparenrs. At the time, I felt I barely knew my grandpar
ents, and I envied his Native culture, which taught him to know
well and honor those who had helped raise him. I learned from Todd that Native youth are taught to listen and learn from their elders and not to run their mouths.

Todd absolutely loved children. He had a cousin with Down syndrome whom he cherished, and even with all my babysitting jobs I had no experience with children with special needs. I always wondered how 1’d handle someday meering this special relative.

•

•