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
Apr152009

While taking care of final income tax matters, we stumble upon a tea party; the bad good news is that we have a tax refund coming this year

Poor Margie! She had been working so hard on our taxes, but today it paid off when we learned that we have a refund coming. This sounds like good news and it is, but the reason is bad. Being self-employed, I pay my taxes quarterly and I paid enough after the first quarter of last year to cover the entire year.

That's because I earned very little money after that. All because I stood upon a rolling chair to take a picture.

But this, the year of the great recession, is also going to be the year that I get going again.

As we went out to settle these tax matters and to dine at Taco Bell, I found myself in a perplexing situation. I needed to turn right out of the Fred Meyer parking lot onto the Palmer-Wasilla Highway toward the Parks Highway, but this kid was sitting there on his bike, waiting for a break so that he could cross the road.

Several times, a break came and I could have gone, but it must not have looked a break from his perspective, because he just sat there. Still, I could not go, I could not assume that he was going to just sit there, because his is a precious life and I could not make such an assumption about it.

So I sat and waited and waited and waited.

Then finally he went. I turned right, immediately thereafter.

Up ahead, someone who I do not even know insulted me. Or maybe the insult was directed not at me, but the driver of the red car, perhaps the white. Or maybe the driver of the black truck described himself. Perhaps he takes pride in being recognized as such.

Before we left the house, we had seen news clips of people holding "tea parties" across the country. I didn't even think about the possibility of a tea party being held in our little town, but, of course! This is Wasilla. People here love tea, and would not pass up a chance to stage a tea party.

As for the website posted on the sign, I checked it out and you can, too, right here. It also contains a link to Glenn Beck's website, who the website creator holds in high esteem. 

One day, I hope to photograph and interview Glenn Beck, as part of a project that would also have me interview and photograph Senate Majority leader Harry Reid, Democrat from Nevada, for both share a common bond that in an odd sort of way links each to me.

I'll probably never find the time or the money to do it, though.

Plus, I have other priorities that rank above this part of the project.

Once, in Dupree, South Dakota, I bought a piggy bank. It was ceramic, red, made in Mexico and it looked Mexican. I thought that if I put just one quarter a day in it, in just a couple of decades, I would have saved so much money that I could retreat from all jobs and fully dedicate myself to my work. So I put the first quarter into it.

That night, some kids stole it. The next day, I found the shattered remains of the bank spread across the sidewalk. The quarter was gone. I did not feel bad about the quarter, but I felt bad about the piggy bank.

I have never managed to save anything, since. And though I dabble at it here and there, I remain financially unable to dedicate myself fully to my work.

I think I am going to be a pauper in my old age.

If I can have a hut, enough food to eat, and be able to sit there and write, intelligently, I won't care. I would do that right now, but too many people depend on me to keep a roof over their head.

I have said it before: I have observed enough of this life to come to one conclusion about God-granted rights. God grants us but one right - the right to struggle to survive for as long as we are able. Not to survive, but to struggle to survive. 

Beyond that, God gives us no rights at all. How many people die on their first day of life? All these exercised their one God-given right, but it didn't work out for them. We envision rights, we create political systems and codify the rights that we desire in Constitution and in law and then we fight with each other about what these rights mean; we defend the rights that we seek even as we try to take away those that the other guy seeks but that we find offensive, be our reason noble or petty, informed or based on emotion.

Should these people in this picture and those who feel as they do find full success in their quest, I wonder what kind of rights I would be left with?

The light turned red for me, right here, beside this lively boy.

Very recently, many Americans rose up to take their country back and succeeded. Now others, most of whom thought they were taking the country back when they elected George W., want to take it away, again.

I drive on from the tea party and see joggers on a bike trail. I admire joggers, not necessarily for their politics but for their jogging discipline. I don't jog, but I do ride a bike. 

And so passed this day as seen from my Ford Escape, right here, in Wasilla, Alaska.

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Reader Comments (2)

Saw your link from dpreview.

The Tea Party protesters may have been ill informed, but they are not ill intentioned. They are supposed to just be protesting the complicated tax system that rewards the wealthy with tax incentives for certain behaviors at the expense of the average Joe. Why should ordinary taxpayers who can't afford to buy a house subsidize wealthy people who buy million dollar homes and write off their mortgage interest?

And while many people did rise up to "take back their country", Barack Obama seems to be giving it back to the bankers. The government seems to be serving Wall Street these days, regardless of what Obama's speeches say.

April 15, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterbd

This mess we find ourselves in has been many years in the making. Too many people who knew this house of cards was being built, turned their heads and pretended they didn't see.

Obama inherited this mess, he has not been president for even 100 days. I'm sure he will make some mistakes, we all do, but he is willing to look at the truth, he is willing to listen for answers, he is willing to take the blame if things go wrong. This is a good start.

April 16, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterMissSunshine

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