And how.
This pit bull in lipstick and stylish glasses made it clear that while she may have grown up in a small town, she has the instincts of a warrior. Just like her running mate.
Sarah Palin said a lot of things during her acceptance speech, and all of them proved her fitness for office.
She talked about national security. She talked about energy. She talked about taxes.
Utterly knowledgeably.
But this isn't what we were listening for. Those of us who fervently hope that Team Obama won't be taking over the White House come January were looking for something else, something intangible. Something to convince us McCain hadn't made a mistake in choosing an unknown from the icy north to be his second in command.
She had us at hello.
Or rather, "Thank you."
Palin rose above all of the dirt and innuendo thrown at her by the liberal peanut gallery, nut-
roots and Obama surrogates and showed the kind of character that can't be supplied by campaign managers or conjured up in pretty speeches. Unlike the senator from Illinois, who has based his entire candidacy on dreams and ambiguity, the governor of Alaska spoke the language of real life. Fluently.
Unlike Obama's perfect family, whose greatest challenge seems to be affording piano lessons and camp for his daughters, Palin talked about her youngest child, a 4-month-old with Down syndrome.
She told the country that if they elected her, the disabled would have an advocate in Washington. And you believed this loving mother.
Unlike Obama's record of "community service," Palin explained just what it meant to be a municipal and then a state executive who needed to be on call 24/7, 365 days a year, without the luxury of being able to vote "present."
Unlike Obama's criticism of middle America, ridiculing those who clung to their guns and religion, Palin showed that she - a true middle American - wasn't bitter. She was proud of the opportunities afforded her in this, the most opportunity-friendly nation on earth.