It’s 11:30 on Thanksgiving Eve, and I’m wrung out and I still have to figure out how to cook the moose roast that’s thawing and dripping blood over my counter. And I have to write this piece about what some of our politicians are doing this Thanksgiving and I have to try to put some heart into it, because, if I’m going to write about them at all, they deserve some heart. They’ve worked so hard in the last few months. And if I’m wrung out, imagine how they and their families must feel.
I took a trip to Hawaii alone recently where I tried not to think about politics, because thinking about politics, day and night like I have been, is relatively new to me, and I wonder if I approve of what it’s doing to me. Politics can be a nasty business, and sometimes I don’t know if I have the guts for it, which are constantly roiling. You might not know this from my writing, but I hate–more than I hate licorice or cigarettes or snobbery–watching people who are trying to do good things for the state writhe under scrutiny. And it’s particularly torturous when I’m the one who’s doing the scrutinizing, which I often have to do. I also hate watching people lose, even the politicians who I really don’t like. I hate the crestfallen expressions, the fallen hopes and dreams. I hate gotcha moments. (I hate sometimes enjoying reporting gotcha moments.) I hate the nasty comments on my site. Sometimes I just hate politics.
All of which might makes me wonder, a lot, if I’m particularly ill-suited to do what I’m doing.
But then sometimes I love politics. Or maybe it’s better to say that I love the way that Alaskans love politics. It can give people, including me, an excuse to be more tribal and smaller than we would otherwise would be. But I also think that it can bring out the best in us, particularly here in Alaska, where it’s so close and intimate, and where we’re all needed. Continue reading





Transitions, before political realities take hold, are always time for optimism. It’s before lawmakers and the governor head to Juneau. Before budgets and bills are introduced. Before committee hearings begin and the presentations start. Before the oilies and the anti-oilies and everyone in between muscle their way into things. Before all of this—particularly with this new administration that has put an Obama-like value on such things–anything feels possible. Mostly, it feels like everyone can get along and talk to one another. Ask nearly any of the 250 Alaskans who gathered for the Walker-Mallott transition at the UAA campus this weekend, and most would likely tell you a version of how wonderful it was that so many different types of people from all across the state gathered to talk to each other. Or, as co-chair of the transition Rick Halford put it, “It put a little less cynicism and a lot more hope,” into the process.