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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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Sunday
Oct112009

CM*D29: Kalib gets naughty at IHOP, I spot a hunter on Church

DateSunday, October 11, 2009 at 1:16PM

We took Kalib to IHOP today and he was naughty. Very, very, naughty - the naughtiest that he had ever been during any outing that we had ever taken him on.

He even hurled a crayon that struck a lady at the next table in the back of the head.

That's how naughty he was.

We were all quite proud of him, because he was acting just like a kid in his "terrible twos." Kalib has over too months to go before he reaches his "terrible twos."

So we knew that he is above average, advancing fast. We were so proud, our chests swelled and our bellies damn near burst right through our shirts. 

Even so, we kicked him out, shooed him away from the table and sent him outside. His dad went with him. 

Soon, he was at the window, eager to come back in and raise more chaos.

If you wonder why the two glasses and Cholla sauce are on the window sill, it is because we put them there while he was still inside so that he would not knock them across the table.

Later, in the afternoon, I was driving down Church Road when I spotted a hunter on a fourwheeler.

I wonder if he got his moose?

Do you think he was naughty when he was a toddler?

 

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment4 Comments |
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Reader Comments (4)

Ay, yi, yi! Terrible twos are terrible. Perhaps your Kalib is so advanced that he will go through his terrible twos in just a couple months. Maybe by the time he is actually two, he'll be done with the terrible twos. Maybe.

I remember the time my youngest, for whatever reason, took it in her head to begin chanting 'dog poop' during church. I tried to hush her. Couldn't. Tried to grab her to take her out, she ducked away. Next thing you know, I'm trying to catch a two year old, and she's shrieking 'dog poop'...Eeeh. That's a bit worse than belting an old lady in the back of the head with a crayon.

October 11, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

I wasn't going to comment altho I did enjoy the read. Then I enjoyed Debby's comment even more. I think I will go to bed and laugh myself to sleep.

October 11, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterWhiteStone

Debby, that is hilarious. We're not really church goers around here, so that is not likely to happen to us - unless we happen to take Kalib to a funeral or a wedding, which I kind of doubt we will, anytime soon.

Whitestone, even though it means I was outshone on my own blog, I'm glad you hung around and enjoyed Debby's comment. I hope you got some sleep, despite all the laughter.

October 12, 2009 | Registered CommenterWasilla, Alaska, by 300

Yeah. I just about decided to quit going to church myself after that little fiasco. The priest was unflappable, and continued his sermon without missing a beat. I nearly died.

By the by, she's the same child who, just a few months back was standing in the middle of the frozen reflecting pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial screeching at Bush's helicopter as it did a final trip around the mall.

Really. The child is incorrigible. Moral of the story? Don't expect that Kalib will outgrown this. Some kids don't. He's what? Maybe 20 months? Cara is nearly 20 years old.

October 14, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

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