Sarah Palin winked at me during her debate with Joe Biden. She winked at the camera, and I think it was meant for me. There is a connection between us that goes back to that tear-gassy September night in St. Paul, when she gave her acceptance speech and I was up in the balcony, taking notes.
It's nothing our spouses need to worry about. It's just a thing between the governor of Alaska and a dreamy guy from the next-coldest state who is a good listener and can split firewood and make cocoa. Just two adults who know that, no, it can never be, but who can't help but think, what if we had met in a different place, like the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon, which is 400 miles long and starts Jan. 25 in Duluth, just in case anyone reading this doesn't have to start a new job in Washington in January?
I would make a good First Dude.
OK, I'm only joking. Call off the morals squad. Sarah Palin connects with a lot of people that way. She is folksy and down-to-earth and, whatever else you want to say about her lack of experience, she sure knows what I am doing on Saturday mornings.
In Thursday's debate, she said if you want to know whether this is a good time in America all you need to do is go to a kid's soccer game Saturday and ask about the economy. If you talk to soccer parents, she said, "I betcha you're going to hear some fear in that parent's voice."
Politicians used to dismiss the concerns of soccer moms; now the Republicans have one on their national ticket.
Palin can't see Russia from Wasilla, but she can see Americans. Biden and Barack Obama may have the answers, but Palin nailed the feelings.
I know this because on Saturdays, my kids play soccer while I try not to worry about the world and try not to think about how I should move to Alaska, hunt walrus to feed my family and just wait for the end times.