going rogue is the new black

When I mentioned to friends a few weeks ago I had to cover Sarah Palin on her book tour, the usual groans and giggles and shaking of heads in disbelief (as to how her popularity has come to evolve to where it's at today) ensued.

But usual for who? It didn't seem to be 'usual' for the few thousand people who waited hours (some almost 24 hours) queuing in the rain to have her sign copies of her book.

As I looked at the line of folks that wrapped around Ft. Bragg's North Post Exchange, whatever real or imagined snobbishness I may have harbored towards the whole Palin spectacle melted away if just for a second.

I know what and who I like and don't like. But this made me think I was missing something. Something important that needed to be known, understood and respected. Much like learning to never stick your finger in an electrical outlet.

In this job you photograph people from all walks of life. The world is your office. So this sense of disconnect was a bit disconcerting. Where was I? And how long had I been gone?

Because these people weren't aliens from another planet. They weren't just let out of a mental hospital. They weren't enemies who wanted the idea of America to fail.

They were my mom, my sister, my nephew, my cousin, the next door neighbor you barbeque with on Sunday afternoons. They were intelligent, hard working (and retired) red blooded, white and blue collar American citizens.

And they were fans and supporters. And that line around the PX was growing longer by the minute.

I started to feel like the joke was on the groaners, gigglers and headshakers.

Funny enough the LA Times had a recent opinion piece that makes some troubling sense.