A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

All photos and text © Bill Hess, unless otherwise noted 
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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
Nov102010

From the car, at dusk and beyond: free, hot coffee, a conversation with horses near a place of prayer; a raven blurred

As usual, when I am home, I took a break at 4:00 PM to drive to Metro Cafe to buy a hot Americano that I could sip at while I cruised and listened to all things considered on the radio. When I pulled up to the window, Elizabeth was there and she refused to sell me an Americano.

Somebody else had already bought one for me - along with a cinnamon roll. The gifter was an anonymous person, who refused to be identified.

Thank you, anonymous person.

After I drove away, I took a bite of the cinnamon roll and a sip, but found the coffee too hot to drink. 

So I held it out the window for a minute or so. This caused my fingers to scald and freeze at the same time. 

Interesting sensation.

When I pulled the coffee back in, it was just right.

I drove on, sipping and biting into the cinnamon roll, and then I found myself faced with a dark corridor ahead. I was on Sunrise Drive, but the sun had  just set.

It looked so frightening that I wondered if I should turn around and go back.

But I knew there were horses ahead, along with a place to pray, should it get that bad.

I forged onward.

I reached the Mahoney horses, safely. They were thrilled and delighted to see me again.

"Bill!" they neighed out in unison. "We missed you! Where have you been for so long?"

"Tennessee!" I shouted back. "I've been in Tennessee!"

"Oh... okay, good," the horses said, as one. "Did you see any horses there?"

"Yes," I shouted back. "I saw thousands of horses! Tennessee is trotting with horses. There are horses everywhere in Tennessee. I even saw Tennessee Ernie Horse!"

The Mahoney horses were thrilled. They neighed in pleasure and approval.

It was a lie. I have never been to Tennessee in my life.

And Tennessee Ernie was a Ford - not a horse.

But the Mahoney horses bought it. They believed me.

It made them happy.

I would rather tell a horse a small lie and have him be happy with me than tell him the truth and make him angry at me.

I've had horses get angry with me in the past.

It is no fun at all.

Unless you like that kind of thing.

Getting bucked off of horses, I mean.

In the old days, when I lived among cowboys, I knew plenty of people who enjoyed getting bucked off of angry horses.

I never did like it. It gave me something to brag about afterward, but it was no fun.

Then I pulled in briefly to Grotto Iona, just across the road from the Mahoney horses. I am not much of religious person, yet, when you come into a place where people have buried their loved ones and created a place to pray, it does not hurt to say a prayer and it shows respect, so I did.

I don't think it will change anything, but I said it, anyway.

Who knows, for sure?

It won't hurt.

I turn around and drive the opposite direction on Sunrise, with the sunset at my back.

When I turn back towards the sunset afterglow, I see a raven flying toward me. I catch it only in a blur as it passes over my windshield.

It does not matter to me that it is blurred.

All that matters is that I shared a moment of magic with this raven and if a blur is what I have to remember, I will remember the blur.

I would have lied to the raven, too, but no one can lie to a raven and get away with it.

Ravens are just too smart.

You might think that you are smarter than a raven, but you are wrong.

The raven is smarter than you.

Just try to outsmart one, sometime, and you will learn what I mean.

Later, about 9:17 PM, I was sitting right here, at my computer and I couldn't take it anymore. So I got into the car and drove into downtown Wasilla, wandering if I should get an ice cream cone at Dairy Queen.

Across from the fire station, I saw a man, walking down the road, barely caught in the glow of headlights.

This is one of those pictures that works well seen big not so well at blog size.

But blog size is what is available to me and it is my favorite picture from yesterday, so here it is, blog size. You can see it a little larger in the slide show, if you like. Or you could click on the image, if you wanted to see just this one larger and none of the others.

Personally, I recommend that you see them at all at slide show size. So please go to the slide show.

I did not get an ice cream at Dairy Queen, nor did I get a Taco at Taco Bell. I did check the mail. I got a Sun magazine, and a bill. I don't what kind of bill. I didn't pay any attention to it. I just put it somewhere where hopefully Margie will find it after she returns home.

 

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Reader Comments (7)

I am not sure of the difference between a raven and a crow, but I walked to class early one morning, and watched a crow pulling food wrappers from the trash can, inspecting them for food and then tossing them to the ground. I had time, and so I stopped to pick up the trash, speaking firmly to him about littering. I also gave him a bit of my granola bar. He watched me very closely as I set it on the ground before him. He swooped down as soon as I stepped away, and snatched it up and flew back up into the nearby branch and had his snack. I walked on, and he once again had flown to the trash can to sort through the rubbish there looking for a snack. Like my friend Bill Hess, he seemed to have a real fondness for fast food.

November 10, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

Bill, I enjoy your blog so much and your pictures are beautiful. Some more on a grand scale and most the beauty of everyday living. Your diary as you travel is inspiring in all the people you meet. We truly are a country of ordinary people who make an extraordinary difference in the most ordinary ways. Thank you for your contribution.

November 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMarie

Wow Bill, that picture of the raven is by far my favorite yet!

November 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterShoshana

The picture looking toward the sunset on Sunrise is magic

November 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterCGinWI

Oh those ravens are so crafty! I remember listening to them on the roof! So much fun!!! I love your posts — such wonderful vignettes that perfectly describe our wonderful lives in Alaska. It takes a hearty soul sometimes to see the beauty that surrounds us all the time, but you reach for and hit that chord often.

November 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterLola

bill, pbs had a show about crows. they're among the most intelligent of all animals, and like us, teach their chicks who to fear. you can watch it online if you wish, perhaps sipping something hot while doing so. nothing like a good hot drink. i'm assuming crows and ravens are close cousins. the taco bell shot was incredible...almost like a western movie set.

November 11, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterRuth Deming

according to wiki, ravens and crows are in the same genus - corvus.

November 11, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterRuth Deming

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