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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
Sep072009

Kalib at the Fair, Part 3: He charms two hot church-group chics, who then battle for his affections

DateMonday, September 7, 2009 at 11:01PM

Yes, Kalib saw many, many wondrous and strange sights at the fair, but the very most wondrous and strange of them all...

...was a bunch of people twirling hoola hoops about their hips. And standing out above all the rest were these two sisters, Sandy, left, and Steffers, chaperones with a church group that had driven out from Anchorage.

Kalib took note of them, all right, but, even more importantly, they took note of Kalib.

The moment the hoop fell from her hips and hit the ground, Steffers dashed out of the hoola ring and snatched Kalib off the ground, hoping to kiss him.

Kalib fought off her advance and in panic reached out for his dad.

Sandy observed this and determined that although Steffers had struck swifter, she would strike smarter. Before Steffers could even know that she was gone, Sandy dashed off, bought a new black "Big Dipper Mining Company" t-shirt and put it on over her red one.

She was certain that little Kalib would be entranced by that black "Big Dipper Mining Company" t-shirt. What little kid could possibly resist a kiss from a beauty wearing such a t-shirt?

Thus attired, Sandy advances quickly, going for the kiss. Kalib fends her off.

Oh, my goodness! Steffers, too, has run off and purchased such a shirt. She taps Kalib, who is still hiding from the first kiss attempt.

"Hey, good looking," she coos, "pucker up. I've got something special for you."

Steffers goes for the kiss and plants one right on Kalib's cheek before he can resist. Kalib likes it!

"Not fair!" Sandy squeals. "I'm the one for you, Kalib - not my sister. Let me try again."

Kalib is not quite so resistant now. The idea of a kiss from Sandy even causes him to smile bashfully.

Sandy plants her kiss. Oh, my goodness! Kalib likes it!

Kalib had been a bit leery about the idea of taking a ride on the ferris wheel, but the attentions of the two sisters so overwhelmed him that he fled, grabbed his parents hands and led them straight to the wheel. They boarded and I hopped on with them.

Here, in his mother's arms, looking down upon the world as he had never before seen it, Kalib felt safe and secure. No hot church group chicks would smother him with kisses here.

Kalib switches from his mother to his father and then looks out upon the world below with great excitement. And then... he sees something... something that he did not expect to see...

"Grandpa...?" his eyes look at me in disbelief, saying the words that his mouth cannot yet form, "could it be true? Did I just see who I think I saw?"

Yes, he did. It's them! Way down below on the ground! Steffers and Sandy, and their cousin, Jessie, who, judging by the way she is dressed, must also want to get in on this toddler cheek-kissing action.

Kalib waves at the two sisters and their cousin. "Can't catch me!" his little hand seems to say.

But then he is on the ground and it seems that Steffers can catch him. "Come to me, my little sweetheart," she coos. "You're all mine."

Sandy objects, so the sisters decide to stage a contest. They will line up, with their cousin, all dressed in their black t-shirts and see who Kalib chooses.

What they don't know is that Lavina has run to the Big Dipper booth and now wears such a t-shirt herself. Lavina will put herself in that line and then see who Kalib chooses.

Kalib places his hands on the beauty of his choice - Mom!

And it is Mom who tucks him into his car seat and takes him home for the night. "No church girl chaperones for you, Shiyazhi!" she soothes. "You're all mine, Shiyazhi!" Shiyazhi is the Navajo word a mom uses for her baby.

Kalib isn't a baby any more, but still, he is her baby. And he always will be.

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment3 Comments |
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Reader Comments (3)

Hello...
It was so much fun seeing you guys at the fair! Thanks for the special memories and entertainment! The blog story is so funny...I laughed so hard it brought me to tears! Its all true too! We have yet to see who Kalib will pick...haha!

September 7, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterSandy J Peterkin

I do so enjoy your posts - and following Kalib - from 4618 miles away in Western Massachusetts. My Anchorage grandkids (and son) took me to the fair in Palmer a couple of years ago; had a great time. Missed out this year by coming up to visit (and fish) a little too early in the year. Maybe next year.

September 8, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAlbert Lewis

Delurking here to let you know how much I enjoyed your fair! Not to mention many of your previous posts...

September 9, 2009 | Unregistered Commentergrannyj

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