Going Rogue: An American Life (25 page)

When I was serving as mayor, Mike asked me to write him a recommendation for the Alaska State Trooper Academy, as I did for lots of people applying for different programs and scholarships. After he became a trooper, though, it became clear that there were some problems. He was seen drinking alcohol while driving a patrol car. In 2003, after using graphic terms to challenge his young stepson’s masculinity, he shot the child with his state-issued Taser gun. Later, after Molly found out the guy was having an affair, Track and I witnessed a domestic dispute in which we both heard the man threaten to harm my dad. If Dad helped Molly retain a divorce lawyer, he screamed while wearing his trooper gun belt, “he’ll ear a lead bullet!” Part of his

job was to arrest hunters who illegally shot game, bur he also illegally shot a moose while hunting with another local cop, and the other cop had ro confess to seeing it happen.

Everyone, including Molly and Mike, seemed relieved when Molly filed for divorce in 2005. The divorce would be final, the drama’s volume would be turned down, and he would go on to marry (and divorce) a fourth time. Much later we found our, as did the rest of the state when the union released his personnel file, the results of an internal trooper investigation stemming from citizen complaints which listed ten different unethical or illegal incidents. This was during a time when Alaska law enforcement’s reputation was taking a beating because other abusive actions were being reported in the media.

I was asked to comment on my former brother-in-law’s actions as a cop-and I spoke candidly about how unfortunate it was that a few bad apples were perceived as spoiling the whole bunch. I had great respect for law enforcement and fought to provide rhe tools it needed to do its job. But just because this particular character was a former member of the family, I wasn’t going to pretend that his actions should be accepted as the norm. The chapter
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for our family was closed, and Molly moved on to concenrrare on her work and raising rhree beautiful kids, Payton, McKinley, and Heath.

This sad family episode

later be twisred and used as a

political weapon against me and John McCain.

Wintet 2004 came and with it the unique blanket of darkness that covers our coldest months. For me it was a time of restlessness, the kind when you know in your soul you’re supposed to be preparing for something, that there’s something else out there, but the next open door is not yet revealed. I remember waking up in the middle of the night knowing there was something else, knowing there was toom for more.

The kids were growing up quickly, and we moved through fun holiday seasons into the rebirth of spring. Track got his driver’s license, and I trained for a marathon. It was a very contemplative time, and I focused on my family while consideting what I might do next. The long runs provided me with the clarity needed to weigh my options. As the soles of my shoes hit the soft ground, I pushed past the ‘tall cottonwood trees in a euphoric cadence, and meandered through willow branches that the moose munched on. A grassy culvert ran parallel to rhe road where I logged my long miles. On lucky days, my newly licensed sixteen-year-old drove the route ahead of me, placing water bottles at intervals inside the culverts, along with notes of encouragement. “Run, Mom! I love you!” and “Don’t give up!” For any mom, it just meant so much thar somebody would do that, especially a busy teenager. It was a great season.

Soul-searching continued, though, tugging at my heart most when I paused to really consider life’s purpose. When Piper was born, Blanche had given me one of those wonderful glider rockers

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Going Rogue

covered in soft suede. I remembet waking up to ftesh, fat snowflakes falling outside my bedroom window, the sky as black as India ink. I would pick Piper up from her bed, snuggle her in a worn flannel quilt, and rock with her in the stillness of the night. The gas fireplace would kick on when the temperature dropped to just the right degree, and I could feel the flickers of light and heat near my feet. There was a longing inside me that winter, a sense of purpose hovering just beyond my vision. Was it ambition? I didn’t think so. Ambition drives; purpose beckons. Purpose
calls.
I definitely wasn’t
driven
toward any particular goal, like power or or wealth. So what was it? I wondered, as Piper’s sweet breath against my neck matched the rocker’s rhythmic glide. I prayed again that if I was to resign myself to what felt like a public service cateer cut short, that I’d embrace being home fulltime. I asked that the fire in my belly, and whatever was feeding it, would simmer down.

I thought of a passage from the book of Jeremiah 29:11-13:

“‘For I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord.

‘Plans for peace and not for calamity, to give you a future and a hope. When you call upon Me I will hear you, when you seatch fot Me you will find Me; if you seek Me with all your heart.’ ” It itked me that too often women are made to feel guilty for seeking the next open door, no matter what career choices we make. That seems universal. But one doesn’t just
create
passion, nor consciously generate the feeling that there’s a door standing
open somewhere, even if you can’t see it yet. And it wasn’t anyone
who pressured me: “Sarah, you’ve got to get out there and fly! Go do more!” But I knew there
was
something more. I thought of the graduation speeches I had been honored to give over the years as mayor and began to apply their message to myself. I ofren told the kids to ask themselves: “What gets you excired to wake up in the morning? Is ir science? Art? Children,
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animals, books, sporrs, mechanics? What is the desire of your heart?”

1’d add: “God put rhose in you not co tease or frusrrate you-He created rhem in you to give you direcrion! To pur you on the righr parh-He bridles your passion! So srop and rhink about what you love to do, then look for signposrs along rhe way that confirm you’re on the righr path to doing thar-doors opening, people wirh your best interesrs at heart supporting whar you’re doing.”

I wasn’r sure what I was co do nexr, yer.
Bur
I also knew I was blessed with a supportive family and a husband who took joy in my working hard, so I knew I had options. As I rocked my daughter all those dark nights, I knew rhat what still stirred passion in me was the desire co make a positive difference for others, nor just in my family and community but in the wider world as well. I resolved co seek confirming signs along the way-the open doors-co show me the right road.

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