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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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Monday
Dec212009

It was a big day here today, but I do not have the time to edit the photos and do a report, so here is Charlie and Royce

DateMonday, December 21, 2009 at 4:00AM

Yes, Charlie and Melanie came out today - and they weren't the only ones. But, at the end of the day, even more left than arrived to begin with and now the population of this house is even smaller than it was this morning.

Unfortunately, I have something that I simply must get done before I do anything else, so this picture is all I can manage for this post.

Hopefully, I will find the time to put up a full report tomorrow.

I'm under a great deal of pressure right now, though, so I might not make it. And I am exhausted, too. I hate to make excuses, but it is just flat-out true.

I am EXHAUSTED!!!

Like a frog, who just swam across the Pacific Ocean.

But I will try to make that report tomorrow.

We will see if I succeed.

Poor Royce. He is growing so old, so fast! Charlie commented on how thin he is getting. He looks so ragged. And what a great cat he has been. I did not fully appreciate how great until I saw how lovingly and patiently he raised Kalib these past 19 months - even when Kalib got very rough, Royce was gentle and patient with him - always looking out for him.

I have never seen anything else like it. And now he is growing so old, so fast.

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

Well, that made me cry so fast. I love the tenderness in your Melanie's Charlie. It must bring you both joy to know that your child has sought out (and found) that for herself.

How many years does Royce have?

December 21, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

Your post makes me think of all the kitties I've enjoyed. I think I would like a new kitty in my house. But...have to convince the Hubby.

December 21, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterWhiteStone

What a faithful companion.

December 21, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterSusan

I had the same feeling of sadness and regret about this time last year for the toll of years burdening my then-12-year-old Tigger orange tabby shorthair. He'd lost weight in the autumn of 2008, and I had him evaluated by our vet, who drew blood and did x-rays but could find no abnormality. The vet just suggested I feed Tigger high calorie food, which I did, and he rebounded for a time.

But this last spring Tigger began losing weight again, and eventually he just stopped eating. I knew the end was near when he wouldn't even drink water.

Oddly enough, he is only the second cat out of about a dozen we've adopted over the years that I've actually been able to say goodbye to, sad as it was. The rest of our poor cats, apparently, evidently became prey for the coyotes that roam through the neighborhoods we've lived in.

December 21, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterKarenJ

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