Cool no more

Used to be, no matter where in the world you travelled, if you identified yourself as an Alaskan you immediately acquired a tangible aura of coolness that could get you at the least a good conversation, and at best free drinks and an audience. Even calling an 800 number used to yield a 50-50 chance of changing a routine business exchange to a Q and A on all things Alaska and a reminder of what is unique about living here. "What is the temperature there now?" "How long does the sun stay up in the sky?" "There's a moose in your yard!?"
Now, though, no one seems to care about the midnight sun or big salmon. They don't ask questions about moose or igloos. Instead, they just want to know all about Sarah Palin.
She is the most famous Alaskan on the planet. No Alaskan, past or present, is as well known as her, and that is not likely to change anytime soon. Love her or hate her—and those seem to be the only two options from which people choose—she personifies the quintessential Alaskan to the rest of world.
Now the 800 number ordeal promises to be mind-numbing with the added bonus of questions like, "Do you know Sarah Palin?" "Is she really as pretty as she looks on TV?" "Don't you love her?"
I usually point out that she hasn't been much seen in these parts since she bailed out of the governor's seat and headed south to make her millions. Getting any more critical than that is dangerous because her fans and detractors are equally vehement and angering someone who has your credit card number is never a good idea.
If you think I'm exaggerating, consider the experience of my friend, Tom Devine. He was in Nepal, last year, supporting a party attempting to summit Everest. When word got around that he was from Alaska, a Nepalese Sherpa approached him and asked if he knew Sarah Palin. Around the same time, Tim Woody, Alaska’s editor, was traveling in a remote part of New Zealand when his car broke down. While he was trying to get it restarted a man emerged from a nearby farmhouse and offered his help. When Tim told him he was from Alaska, the man asked, “So, are ya friends with Sarah?” Kes Woodward, an internationally-known Alaskan painter, told me about a similar experience during art show in Germany.
So from down under to high on the Himalayan Plateau and in fancy German art galleries to boot, people think Alaskans wink and say "you betcha" and are radically conservative. I've been here for 47 years, I don't wink and I've neither used the phrase "you betcha" nor heard anyone but her say it. The rightwing leaning? Well there is more than a little truth to that. Alaska, long a Democratic bastion, moved to the right with the development of oil more than 30 years ago and has stayed there, for the most part, ever since. Keep in mind, though, one of our U.S. senators is a Democrat and we've regularly ignored party lines to vote for individuals who would best represent us.
While Sarah Palin was wildly popular among Alaska voters at the time of her election, she is not so well liked now. Maybe it's jealousy over her success, feelings of abandonment or disdain toward her apparent lack of humility regarding the opportunity that John McCain handed to her. Whatever the reason, I doubt she'd experience the political success she found here just a few years ago if she returned to Alaska politics.
None of that matters though. Sarah Palin has become an international figure and we're left in her wake, fielding inane questions about her and wishing desperately that we could regain the coolness we once enjoyed. I used to get mad when I encountered people who thought Alaska was part of Canada or worse, that it is a country of its own. Now I miss those simpler times.
Alaska is more than the place where Sarah Palin came from but convincing the world of that will be difficult, if not impossible.