I lost my run for governor of Alaska. It wasn't close. Yet rather than moving through the familiar stages of bereavement — denial, anger, bargaining and all the rest — Stacey and I seem to have arrived quickly at grateful acceptance.
After a year on the campaign trail, my heart is full of gratitude and optimism for the future of our great state. We owe a debt of thanks so large it would exceed any Oscar-night speech, and it may seem strange to feel this way after falling short in the conventional sense, but the mission was never about us.
Running for governor was audacious, and we knew that from the beginning. I am not a politician or bureaucrat; I am a fisherman, a doctor and a businessman answering a call Stacey and I have heard for years. The headwinds of being an outsider were evident early on. Within the dens of the political apparatus, my offering was often rebuffed by the comfort of candidates speaking the familiar tongues and tones of a well-rehearsed campaign season.
Although the idea of an outsider from the world of business struck a chord with many, the refrain became common: “You're exactly what this state needs, but we're not sure you can get elected,” or “I want to vote for you, but I don't want to throw away my vote.” That choice, between a perception of unelectability shaped by dubious polling and gamesmanship and a vote of conscience for the change many Alaskans say they want, became a Faustian bargain too many voters felt forced to make.
So why did I run? Friends reminded us that we could have spent that time and money on exotic vacations or quiet cruises. “Instead,” one of them said, “you chose to be tortured on the campaign trail for an office you were unlikely to win,” or “you joined the circus?” Fair enough.
But Stacey and I see life as a gift meant for striving and service. As President Kennedy reminded us, “We do not choose the easy things; we choose those things that are hard.” I believe we helped frame the conversation and sharpen the vision of our shared obligation to unite toward a prosperous future for our kids and grandkids.
Our persistent theme was simple: “Uniting for the next generation, so Alaska becomes their first choice to live, work, and raise a family.” I am grateful for every home and business that opened its doors to us, for every conversation and for every introduction that reminded me how deeply the explorer's heart still beats in Alaska. That spirit drew so many here decades ago, and it must remain alive for those coming behind us.
Beyond the sound bites and rhetoric are the many new relationships formed and old ones that have been rekindled through this process. We now look to the future and see that the general election ahead offers a real opportunity to press a unifying, joyful vision for the next generation.
Stacey and I intend to keep showing up for that work, however it takes shape. Not because anyone owes us anything, but because this state and the young people who will inherit it are worth every effort and sacrifice.
So thank you, Alaska, for your doors, your candor, your trust and your hope. The road ahead is bright, wide and full of promise. We walk it gratefully, hopeful and filled with optimism.
Onward, together and toward the future our kids deserve.
MATT & STACEY HEILALA