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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« Birth of Jobe Atene Hess, Part 3*: Little Jobe is introduced to big brother Kalib, who, up until now, has had his parents' affections to himself | Main | Birth of Jobe Atene Hess, Part 1*: Three long, long, weeks of seemingly unending labor come to a sudden end »
Monday
Feb152010

Birth of Jobe Atene Hess, Part 2*: Little Jobe enters a hard world, wrapped in love

This is the very first picture that I took of my new grandson, Jobe Atene Hess and a strange thing happened to me when I first pulled it up on this computer, blew it up to a much larger size than you see here and took a look at it.

I began to study the image, feeling calm and pleased, but a sudden, completely unexpected sob formed deep in my chest and then burst out of me. I wept, hard, for about five seconds, maybe ten at the most. Then it stopped, although my eyes stayed watery for awhile.

Yes, some of that was the natural joy that I felt, but some of it was also sorrow. I saw how tiny, little, soft, helpess, dependent and red he was and I thought of this world - this wonderful, exciting, beautiful, challenging, yet often hard, harsh, brutal and indifferent world and how he is going to have to make his way through it.

We will all do our best to get him off to a good start, but sooner or later he is going to have to deal with it on his own. We will all be memories.

Just as all those loving ancestors, each and everyone, who brought me into the world and watched over me dwell now only in memories.

Once he was out of the womb, and as of yet still unnamed, the first step was to get him cleaned up, checked up and wrapped up. Lavina had done much hard and painful work to get him here and has much work yet ahead, so the nurse kindly stepped in and took care of this part.

Soon, the nurse had him cleaned up, checked up and wrapped up.

His dad took him now, looked him straight in the face and then suddenly began to sob himself. I could see that the sobs caught him completely by surprise.

Jacob with his second-born son, whom he will soon name, Jobe, pronounced, Joe-bee. Atene came from Lavina. It is a Navajo name and if it has a meaning beyond the sound of it, she does not know what it is.

Lavina named Kalib and agree to let Jacob name their second baby.

Jacob does not know where the name Jobe came from. It just came. He liked the sound of it.

Mom, Dad and baby Jobe.

They laugh with joy.

This gives me hope that my little granddaughter will yet come.

The mom and dad are not the only ones who want to hold little Jobe. Soon, another hand reaches out for him. Whose hand could it be?

Why, it's his Auntie Laverne.

And now he's in my arms. I am photographing him with the pocket camera.

As I hold Jobe, others admire him.

Little Jobe.

Now his Uncle Caleb has him. Caleb has been an amazing uncle to Kalib - just as uncles are supposed to be in both the Navajo and Apache cultures from who Jobe descends - plus from me, of course.

I'm not really certain what role uncles were supposed to play in my culture. I grew up in places where I had no uncles, aunts, or cousins nearby.

I did spend one summer working on my aunt and uncle's cattle ranch in southern Idaho. That summer, my cowboy uncle did teach me a great deal.

Jacob carries the placenta away to a safe place. This will be better explained three posts from now. Simply stated, Lavina is serious about the spiritual ways of her Navajo people - the Dine and has imparted that seriousness to all of us. To the Dine, the placenta is not something to be disposed of as waste, medical or otherwise.

It is sacred and as such must be put away in a sacred manner.

Jacob took Laverne back to the house to stay with Gracie, picked up Margie and Kalib, dropped Kalib off at daycare and then brought Margie to the hospital.

Finally, she was able to hold her grandson.

This dear woman - she loves her grandchildren deeply.

She would throw herself in front of a train to save either of them, or be consumed in a flaming building if it meant she could toss them to safety.

Of this I have no doubt.

I never did and still don't deserve her, but I got her, anyway.

The hand of my wife touches the hand of my second grandson.

Jobe's little hand. For some reason, the instant I see this picture, I hear the voice of my own mother, when I was very small. She is singing, "I have two little hands folded snugly and tight, they are tiny and weak yet they know what is right. During all the long hours till daylight is through, there is plenty indeed for my two hands to do."

Yes, there is plenty indeed ahead for this one's tiny hands to do.

Now Jobe is held by his Uncle Rex. You can imagine that this moment is both wonderful and hard for him. It is for all of his, for he married a woman who he deeply loves and even now wants no one to speak ill of or think unkind thoughts toward but asks only that we love her, despite the horrible pain that her departure has inflicted upon him, upon us all.

I will say only this - I know my son. He is sensitive, kind, highly intelligent, greatly creative, hard-working, compassionate and he deserves to have children of his own. Expectations, dreams and ambitions are not met overnight, or even in years. It takes a lifetime of hard work, sacrifice, commitment, patience and forgiveness, a million times over. Love endures it all and does not abandon. May such love yet bloom in his life.

Tavra.

That's Iñupiaq for, "that's all I've got to say on the matter."

A few hours after the birth, a nurse placed Jobe in this little cart. Jacob then wheeled him to the "D" Tower elevator and up we went to the fourth floor, room 465.

There, the love and adoration continued. Caleb photographed Jobe with his iPhone.

Lisa arrived during her lunch break. As she sat here, holding Jobe, surrounded by her brothers, I pictured those same brothers as young boys, gathered around her mother as Lisa suckled at her breasts.

As Natalie massages her shoulders, Lavina gives Jobe some air.

As soon as she was able, Melanie arrived. A very special moment would happen not long afterward, but I had failed to understand and so missed it. I thought Lavina and Jacob were curious about whether or not Jobe had pooped for the first time just because they wanted to know that he was functioning fully.

And later, after Margie I got a bite to eat, picked up Laverne, dropped her back off at the hospital and then were nearly back to Jacob and Lavina's where I felt desperate to collapse upon their wonderfully nap-able L-shaped couch and my iPhone rang and I handed it to Margie because I had already almost run over two jay-walking pedestrians and did not want to talk on the phone and drive and I heard her say, "you've got poop on your face?" I just thought some strange mishap had happened.

I did not know that it was a special event that had been forgotten about with Kalib but remembered now. I did not know that I should have been there to photograph it.

But Melanie was there and she did photograph it.

Three posts from now, I will share her image and explain the important thing that Margie and I missed.

Natalie, with Jobe. Frequent visitors have undoubtedly noticed the great plethora of toys that Kalib had at the house when he was living with us, and now at his new house.

Many of those toys... many, many, many... maybe most... came as gifts from this woman.

I have never heard the title applied to her, but she is kind of like a God-mother to our two grandchildren.

As the sun began to sink toward the end of Jobe's birthday, we awaited the arrival of one more, very special, visitor - Kalib. His dad had gone to pick him up from daycare, where some special activities that no one wanted him to miss had happened.

As we waited, a helicopter appeared outside Lavina's window.

This told me that someone had probably either been hurt very badly or had fallen critically ill. Hospitals are at once places of joy, places of pain, places of sorrow, of relief, of healing and ultimate grief.

I thought of my previous experiences here in Providence. The first was for Kalib's birth. Happy, joyous. 

The second happened when I dropped in to visit a friend whose own baby had been medivaced to this place in critical condition. She was comatose, wired and tubed up, but my friend and his wife were clinging to all the hope they could pull up from their souls. 

Then a doctor walked in with a form that he hoped they would sign. There was no hope for their baby, he told them. Her brain was already dead and her body would follow. If they would but sign this form, they could keep her alive long enough to harvest organs for transplant to others who could then get a chance to live.

They agreed, signed the papers, the doctor left and then the mother sank to the floor, and there lay weeping as her husband bent over her, seeking to comfort and to find comfort where it felt to me there was no comfort to be found.

The third took place after the Lear Jet ambulance that my insurance company refused to pay for, despite the promise the saleswoman had made when she sold me the insurance, dropped me off at the airport after the flight from Barrow and a regular ambulance had brought me here, to undergo emergency surgery.

That was an experience of pain. As was my fourth trip in, which happened just one week later after the original surgery failed and they took away my natural shoulder and gave me a titanium one.

That, too, was an experience of pain - yet in both cases, I felt the love of family and that was a good thing.

My fifth experience at Providence - this happy moment.

Such is the nature of hospitals.

 

*Up next: Kalib meets Jobe.

Just like last night, I had hoped to post this before I went to bed, but we have had a big day here at our house in Wasilla. All of our Alaska Hess family were here, along with Laverne and Gracie Begay. A pick axe was swung, shovels bit into the frozen earth, there was ceremony, feasting and two little people ran up and down the hallway at least 100 times. I think more than that. Maybe 200 times.

Enough times to wear me out, that's for sure.

It was all I could do to get this post up. I am exhausted, worn out, can hardly keep my eyes open. I must go to bed. I will post the meeting between Kalib and Jobe sometime Monday.

Sorry to keep post-poning things and making excuses, but I've got a huge amount of material here to work with.

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Reader Comments (17)

Ahhh. Such a happy, joyous post. Such beautiful pictures. Thank you for sharing!

A note: The third picture in the post, the one of Jobe--in it, he looks a lot like Lavina in one of the labor pictures.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterOmegaMom

Oh darn Bill, you got me again. I've fallen apart reading your words and seeing your wonderful pictures. I've cried with joy for all of you, sorrow for Rex and sorrow that I missed the beauty and love that surrounds your family in the birth experience.

When I gave birth to my two sons, each time, their father couldn't wait to get out of the hospital to get falling down drunk, bragging to all & sundry about what a man HE was for begetting sons. His sons, grown now, never experienced the kind of love from him I see from all of you for your beautiful babies & grown children. My sons have had all my love and support since they were cradled gently in my womb, but they have a deep sadness within that they will never know their father's love or have his total approval.

I don't mean to whine, just wanted to let you know how deeply you all touch my life and I'm so glad you share all the little and important things with me. Please never stop - you're part of my life now - a happy part. Thank you.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterKat

What a beautiful child! What wonderful pictures of love. What a joy to have family and traditions. Your story has made me laugh and cry.

Yes, it is a frightening world into which we bring our babies. Yet, life endures and who knows what changes can be wrought and in what way.

Blessings and peace.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered Commenteremilypeacock

What a joyous post! Even at the end with the truth of hospitals and sadness, it really just makes you appreciate the moment more. Best wishes to everyone.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMichelle

Thank you for sharing your family.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterDorothy

I've already said my congrats.. the pictures are amazing.. you always make us feel like we were there.

Something I learned along time ago ... the most awful things can happen to us as people.. and if we can some how dig ourselves out of that darkness and sorrow.. some how reach our heads up to the top....god rewards us in the end. I was very sad for a very very very long time..but I found that happiness again. As you say, it didn't happen overnight.. but it did happen.. and I hope it happens someday for Rex..

I CAN"T WAIT to see what our main man Kalib thinks of Jobe!

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterRocksee

No need to apoligize about your posts Bill. I think the wonderful arrival of such a beautiful little boy is plenty reason to ignore the cyber world!

I read the words you use to describe your grandchildren and it makes me miss my grandparents terribly. I was the first grandchild, the first girl to arrive in many,many yrs and I always had such a very special relationship with my paternal grandparents.For a good portion of my life I lived thousands of miles from my grandparents but that didnt stop them from being such a huge and wonderful part of my life. It was devastating to lose them in 2008 and 2009. Reading about your grandchildren I can see that they are as lucky as I was, to have such wonderful grandparents that love them so.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterLisaJ

thanks for sharing this incredible and emotional event. don't know how lavina looks so radiant and beautiful after and during labor.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdahli22

Such a beautiful post ,it brings tears to my eyes. I must have my husband read this. He will enjoy it too.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterlinmc

Dry your tears Grandfather. Your grandson does face a tough world. It has always been so. However, you are arming his with the best defense there is against this unkind world. He has a family who loves him dearly and will always stand with him. Yes. He will cry. He will lose people that he loves. He will strive. Sometimes he will fail. Sometimes he will succeed. In the struggle he will find the joy of living, and I can guarantee that he will see his great good fortune to be born into a family that loves each other with a great, great love.

Tavra.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

Congratulations!!! How wonderful! I cried happy tears at quite a few those photos.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterTanyalaska

Lovley. Thank you very much for sharing.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterKris

Thanks so much for sharing your pictures and your thoughts. Beautiful words.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered Commentermocha

These are beyond touching ... both the photos and the words ... what a beautiful family

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterSusan

Since you stopped at my blog a few months ago I have come often and looked at your blog, but I did not write comments. This time I would like to send you my congratulations for your beautiful grandson. I have two grandsons also, one is 3 years old and one is 1 year old but they are in another state. It is wonderful that your grandson has a loving family around him. Family is important. Both my parents are gone and I only have one cousin left now in France. Thank you for sharing this beautiful event.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered Commentervagabonde

thank you for writing & shooting from your heart, and for bringing tears to my eyes.

February 15, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterkalaluka

mazel tov a thousand times over!

February 16, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterruth z deming

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