A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

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Wasilla

Wasilla is the place where I have lived for the past 29 years - sort of. The house in which my wife and I raised our family sits here, but I have made my rather odd career as a different sort of photojournalist by continually wandering off to other places to photograph people and gather information, which I have then put together in various publications that have served the Alaska Native Eskimo, Indian and Aleut communities.

Although I did not have a great of free time to devote to this rather strange community, named after a Tanaina Athabascan Indian chief who knew Wasilla in the way that I so impossibly long to, I have still documented it regularly over the past quarter-century plus. In the early days, my Wasilla photographs focused mostly upon my children and the events they participated in - baseball, football, figure skating, hockey, frog catching, fire cracker detonation, Fourth of July parade - that sort of thing. 

In 2002, I purchased my first digital camera and then, whenever I was home, I began to photograph Wasilla upon a daily basis, but not in a conventional way. These were grab shots - whatever caught my eye as I took my many long walks or drove through the town, shooting through the car window at people and scenes that appeared and disappeared before I could even focus and compose in the traditional photographic way.

Thus, the Wasilla portion of this blog will be devoted both to the images that I take as I wander about and those that I have taken in the past. Despite the odd, random, nature of the images, I believe they communicate something powerful about this town that I have never seen expressed anywhere else. 

Wasilla is a sprawling community that has been slapped down hodge-podge upon what was so recently wilderness of the most exquisite beauty. In its design, it is deliberately anti-zoned, anti-planned. In the building of Wasilla, the desire to make a buck has trumped aesthetics and all other considerations. This town, built in the midst of exquisite beauty, has largely become an unsightly, unattractive, mess of urban sprawl. Largely because of this, it often seems to me that Wasilla is a community with no sense of community, a town devoid of town soul.

Yet - Wasilla is my home and if I am lucky it will be until I grow old and die. Despite its horrific failings, it is still made of the stuff of any small city: people; moms and dads, grammas and grampas, teens, children, churches, bars, professionals, laborers, soldiers, missionaries, artists, athletes, geniuses, do-gooders, hoodlums, the wealthy, the homeless, the rational and logical, the slightly insane and the wholly insane - and, yes, as is now obvious to the whole world, politicians, too.

So perhaps, if one were to search hard enough, it might just be possible to find a sense of community here, and a town soul. So, using my skills as a photojournalist and a writer, I hope to do just that. If this place has a sense of community, I will find it. If there is a town soul to Wasilla, I will document it. I won't compete with the newspapers. Hell no! But as time and income allow, it will be fun to wander into the places where the folks described above gather, and then put what I find on this blog.

 

by 300...

Anywhere within a 300 mile radius of Wasilla. This encompasses perhaps the most wild, dramatic, gorgeous, beautiful section of land and sea to be found in any comparable space anywhere on Earth. I can never explore it all, but I will do the best that I can, and will here share what I find and experience with you.  

and then some...

Anywhere else in the world that I happen to get to, such as Point Lay, Alaska; Missoula, Montana; Serenki, Chukotka, Russia; or Bangalore, India. Perhaps even Lagos, Nigeria. I have both a desire and scheme to get me there. It is a long shot. We shall see if I succeed.

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Wednesday
Oct152008

Physically fit and mentally alert, Gwich'in Matriarch Hannah Solomon Celebrates her 100th birthday

 The men do an honor dance for Hannah Solomon: 

See the mural on the wall above Hannah, seen here in the center of a men's honor dance to honor her on her 100th birthday? It is more than a just beautiful painting to Hannah. It is a depiction of the life that she actually knew in her early days. The mural is why Daisy Solomon, Hannah's daughter, chose this place, the Chena River Convention, for the party. "It is the life she lived," Daisy said.

Many of us know something of the robust life that is lived even now in Alaska. The same foods that were important back then are important now, but these days the activities involved are accompanied by the roar and whine of snowmachines, of boat propellers churning their way through water, fourwheelers bouncing over rough trails, and the drone of that airplanes that make the long distances that separate us short.

Back then, it was much quieter and a journey to even a nearby place could take days.

Hannah was born in the Old Rampart on the Porcupine River, not far from the Canadian border, on October 10, 1908 into just that kind of life.


Two hours before the honor dance:

The party began with a great feast, Athabascan style - salmon, both roasted and smoked; moose, caribou, probably a beaver or two, plus salads and such. Unfortunately for me, I was still on the highway, slowed by the storm, driving from south and I did not enter the hall until the final bites of dinner were being swallowed.

I did get there in time to see a woman give Hannah a gift - a story knife. When several people gather, whoever holds the knife is the one who speaks.

Hannah Solomon on her 100th birthday - doesn't she look good!


Thinking that she needed help and being eager to give it, a great-great grandson blew out the flames on the two "0" candles. Hannah wanted to blow out the "1" candle herself. She took a deep breath...


...and Hannah blew the candle out. I wonder what she wished for? Whatever, I hope it comes true.


Hannah had two more birthday cakes. One featured a frosting picture of her when she was young. 









The other a more recent frosting picture of Hannah. Click on the cakes to see them larger.









After blowing out her candles, Hannah received a warm round of applause.

As her longtime friend and fellow Native leader, Poldine Carlo, sings an Athabascan song for her, Hannah Solomon raises her hands and, moving them up and down, dances in the traditional way, even as she remains sitting.

 Blessed not only with a strong, healthy, sound body but a clear and sharp mind, centenarian Hannah Solomon addresses her well-wishers. She expressed her joy at seeing the gathered crowd, as they represented what she had worked and fought so hard for - especially the six generations of her family. "My family have been the most important thing to me. I met my goal and my birthday would be nothing if my family wasn't here."

Numbered among those who came to honor Hannah was U.S. Senator Lisa Murkowski. Murkowski praised Hannah not only for being a leader and inspiration to the Native people of Alaska, but to all Alaskans.

Many came to honor Hannah and to present her with plaques and awards, from organizations such as Tanana Chiefs Conference and Doyon Ltd (above) to State legislators Reggie Joule and Woody Salmon (far left).

Scott Fisher, Hannah's pastor from the St. Matthews Episcopal Diocese, honored her with a plaque, and then a kiss.



  

Mary Beth Solomon, daughter of Hannah's late son, Jonathon Solomon, gives her grandmother a kiss.

As his sons stand behind his mother, Peter Solomon, Hannah's youngest, tells how his mother and father raised the family on the land and taught them to love and protect it. Anywhere one walks in America, Peter said, that is Indian Country. He also put in a plug for Barack Obama, as did other speakers.

As they thank God for Hannah's good life and ask Him to bless her future, Hannah grips the hands of those who pray for her.

  Hannah Solomon with her daughter, Hannah Solomon. Hannah gave birth to 17 children and is also matriarch to 68 grandchildren, 138 great-grandchildren, 122 great-great grandchildren and 30 great-great-great grandchildren. 

When her son, Paul, named after her late husband, spoke of what a good mother she had been, Hannah radiated love. Paul had to leave early to return to the nursing home where he lives. "Someone help me up, so that I can kiss my son before he leaves," Hannah asked.

Hannah stood, and kissed the hand of her son. Behind her, dressed in red, is her daughter, Daisy, who led the effort to organize the birthday party. "My mother has been an excellent teacher," Daisy told those gathered. "She's guided all of her children and their children on how to treat each other. She's always been a very gentle woman, even when my brothers were in trouble as kids."

Soon it was time to jig. Backed up by a group of talented musicians, Bill Stevens, master of the Athabascan fiddle, made the music.

The jigging began with the men's honor dance.

Then the women honored her. There are three Hannah Solomon's in this picture, by the way. At the car left is Hannah Solomon's daughter-in-law, Hannah Solomon, wife of her late son, Jonathon, her daughter, Hannah Solomon, and of course, Hannah Solomon, the Gwich'in Matriarch herself.


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Reader Comments (2)

This was the best party of the century. I had lots of fun, dancing and laughing all night, just what I needed to get me thru the day and night.

October 17, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterMary Beth Solomon

What a blessing to all of us Hannah has been, and what a blessing this celebration is--to see so many people happy together, honoring the traditional ways together, honoring the woman who has held so many relatives and friends in her heart, in her prayers, and honoring themselves by knowing and doing the right thing the right way for the right reasons--through it all honoring God who gave them all these blessings, and continues to pour them out upon His beloved children. I miss you all, and send warmest and richest wishes for each and every one of you to continue on the Way in good health and good spirit. Deep Peace and Great Love be yours,
Fr. George and Mother Hunter, Stephen, Christian, Hope and Grace

October 17, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterGeorge Silides
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