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
Feb252009

I take Margie to town and into the movie theatre

As I have noted in recent entries, each day since my return from Barrow I have taken Margie out to eat drive-through fast food from inside the car. She did not leave the house the entire nine or ten days that I was in Barrow, and prior to that, the only time she had left since February 2 was when I took her into the Alaska Native Medical Center to get new X-rays and a new cast.

So I had to get her out of the house and fast food is how I did it. Take the above shot, for example. It is from yesterday, when we went to A&W-KFC, where I bought hamburgers for both of us. Margie is not being rude by sitting in the back seat. She is not mad at me. 

She can't sit in the front, because she needs the entire back seat to stretch her unbendable leg out.

Today, I not only got her out of the house, but out of the car and into a real, sit-down cafe - Cafe' Europa, in Anchorage, to be precise. This happened because I had follow-up appointment with Dr. Duddy. Margie agreed to come with me, and to see how it would be to go a movie. "I will have to sit up front," she said. As it turned out, Dr. Duddy had to do emergency surgery today and so he cancelled the appointment. I wonder how many appointments he had to cancel the two times when he had to perform emergency surgery on me?

I took Margie to town anyway. 

After Cafe' Europa, we headed over to Century 16. We had planned to see "Gran Torino," starring Clint Eastwood, but we spent too much time eating and it had already begun, but "Taken," starring Liam Neeson, was about to begin, so we saw that instead.

I took this picture while we watched the previews, ate popcorn and drank bottled water.

As for "Taken," I don't know - lot of action and one does get the satisfaction of watching Neeson's character kill a few score of bad guys, but the subject (stealing people's teenage daughters and selling them into sexual slavery) could have used more serious treatment than just bash in his head and shoot him dead, I think.

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