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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Friday
Nov202009

Real Wasilla - not to be found in Rogue: Snowplow comes down the road, turns around and goes back up again; Kalib loses shoe on sub-zero drive; more

As I took my walk today, I saw a snowplow coming down the road.

It zipped right past me.

It reached the end of the road, then turned around and came right back again, it's second blade grinding loudly against the pavement it scraped.

It zipped right past me all over again - talk about deja vu!

Here is Kalib, at the Post Office. I see that he has removed one shoe. That's the thing to do when the temperature outside is -5 F (-21C).

On the way home, we passed a postal worker distributing mail. Kalib did not witness this great event.

He had fallen asleep - that's why. I picked him up, carried him into the house and gave him to Margie, who put him into bed for his afternoon nap. 

As soon as he hit the mattress, he was wide awake. (I received a complaint from down in the Navajo Nation today: each of my last two posts contained only one photo each of Kalib. This was highly inadequate, I was informed. POST MORE PICTURES OF KALIB!!! I was chastised. Well, today there is three. I suppose three won't be enough, though.)

At 4:00 PM, I took my coffee break and drove past these kids, playing in the snow.

And here I am, in the drive-through at Metro Cafe, where some important business was being conducted.

As should be clear to all readers, here in Wasilla, the excitement never ends.

You won't find anything like this in "Going Rogue," but you will find it right here, on this blog.

 

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Reader Comments (7)

I could scarcely breathe, it was so exciting. I mean here, all I've got is laundry, hauling a load of firewood, and filling out some government paperwork. I guess that I will simply accept the fact that not all of us can live in the bright lights of Wasilla.

November 20, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

I prefer your version of Wasilla. Reminds me of the people here in my hometown. We have a couple Kalibs in our family, too. Lots of escapades.

November 20, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterWhiteStone

You can never have enough pics of Kalib
JfH

November 20, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterJfH

Those snow plows "zipping" buy was the only reason I could never feel comfortable letting my kids walk to school, even though we lived only 3/4 mile away. In the dark when they leave, and home in the dark. I actually felt guilty to drive them, but my imagination and those plows wouldn't let me allow them to walk. Is that driver coming towards you talking on a cell phone? I don't know how their nerves can take it, such awesome responsibility driving those tanks at high speeds. I'm hoping my eyes are wrong about the cell phone.

November 20, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterSylvia

In the book, I found no description of how the town of Wasilla got the name? Was "Wasilla" a person? or a shopping mall or a runway for hunters long ago?

I understand the local highschool has a American Indian moniker for their sports team. I find this odd, yet quite telling as to the possible origins of "Wasilla".

November 20, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterDC living

I'm just a casual visitor, but even I want more photo's of Kalib. The photo of him in the driver's seat w/out the shoe is so cute!!

November 20, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterMichelle

Debby - Yes, it just never stops here!

Whitestone - I hope someone is photographing those escapades.

JFH - I will have to take more, then.

Sylva - I blew the image up to 100 percent on my computer and it sure looks like he is talking on his cell. I can't say for absolute certainty.

DC: Wasilla is named for A Dena'ina man of the same name, He was a chief. I have been hearing that the word means, "A Breath of Fresh Air" but that seems too convenient.

Michelle - There's lots more pictures today!

November 21, 2009 | Registered CommenterWasilla, Alaska, by 300

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