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
Nov152009

Catching up,* Final: Family Restaurant leftovers

Kalib and his mom as we enter Family Restaurant. 

Other people wait to enter and they look pretty darned excited and hungry.

Charlie and Melanie soon joined us. The last time we had seen Charlie, his hair was long, so this was a bit of a surprise.

Soon, there will be a toast at the table. In fact, there will be several pieces of toast.

Melanie and Charlie, who drove all the way out from Anchorage just to eat breakfast at Family Restaurant with us. It would have been nice if the entire family had come, but not everybody could make it.

Kalib examines his mother's wedding ring.

There were many happy people at Family Restaurant that day. Even though most present were strangers, it kind of felt like we were all one, big, family, all eating at Family, all enjoying breakfast together separately.

Jacob, at Family.

Do you remember how wonderful it felt, when you were his age, and you got to lay your head against your mother's chest and listen to her heartbeat? Although the recollections are a bit dreamy, I do remember. And, just a short distance away from the heart that Kalib listens to, a new one, ever so tiny, also beats.

After we ate, we headed back to the car and passed by this Doggie in the Window. None of us knew how much it was. Probably, it wasn't for sale at all.

 

*Yesterday's post mistakenly claimed it to be the final of the catch-up series. This is because I had originally scheduled this one to appear earlier in the week, but then moved it to this day so that I could post snow pictures. Then I simply forgot to correct yesterday's post before it went up. When the post was up and I saw my error, I thought, "Oh, well."

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Reader Comments (5)

great photos as always, bill, esp the fellow with the bushy beard. try as i may, i can't get mine to grow that long. on my mediterranean cruise i met a young man from nashville who had lived previously in alaska, name of jim putnam. very young. late 20s, i'd say. i told him i had a blogger friend in wasilla and he said he used to live nearby - eagle river or something like that. jim was a poker player and gambled every nite but was careful about his money. he was traveling w/his 49-year-old mother who i never met. all their luggage was stolen by a cab driver in barcelona. glad you're feeling better, bill. you can't keep a good man down.

November 15, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterRuth Z Deming

Kalib looks so very cute, as always.. His name is a little unusual.. sounds middle eastern actually.. Can u tell me what it means, if u don't mind?

November 15, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAsh

Hey Bill, I am glad to see you have been able to keep up with the blogs now that you are feeling better. Would you mind if I use the picture you took of me for my Facebook profile picture if I credit you in the Caption?

Thanks!

Charlie

P.S. I hope that we can see the new pictures and stories of Zed in this blog or the Cat Blog soon!

November 15, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterCharlie

Ruth, if you look in the right drug store, you will find "Fem Beard" - a special ointment that women can apply, guaranteed to grow a find beard.

Ash - Here is the story behind Kalib's name. Since she was young, Lavina always liked the name, Caleb and she decided that should be the name of her first son. Then she met Jake and found that he had a brother named Caleb. So she decided that the name should be spelled differently, but pronounced the same. I looked it up and in Hebrew it means "Brave."

Charlie. Sure. I did put Zed in the cat blog - or Grahamn Kracker did. Maybe you mean the ones I took when we dropped Lisa off the other night and she introduced Zed to her Mom? She brought Zed to the car and it was very dark and Zed is black, so I didn't really get much.

November 17, 2009 | Registered CommenterWasilla, Alaska, by 300

Oh I see.. its a lovely name and a great meaning too.. :)

November 18, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAsh

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