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
Feb242010

I take a walk with Shadow

I have always been a walker and usually I have walked alone, or with a dog. Occassionally, I have walked with cats, but as much as I love them, walking with cats can get pretty aggravating. You have to keep stopping and you never do get very far.

Sometimes when I was small, I took off walking and when my parents discovered that I was missing they called the cops and each time they launched a search for me.

They never found me, though, because I could be anywhere from the side of mountain to balancing on the railroad tracks. Finally, I would come home and find the cops at the house, trying to calm my distraught parents. I could not understand why they got so upset, because I always knew exactly where I was in relation to the house. Now, of course, I understand.

After I met Margie, we would often walk together but even then, I would take long walks by myself.

Next, the kids came along and we would often all go walking, or Margie and I might walk with one or two of the children one time, and others later, or just the young girls when the boys became teens. Yet even then, I would often walk by myself.

Years ago, Margie quit walking with me all together because it became hard for her. The dog Willow was still with us then, so she and I would walk together and there was no Serendipity and so we had the big woods to ourselves. Then they cut down the trees, made Serendipity and Willow died.

Again I found myself walking, all by myself. Which was fine with me. I enjoy walking alone. 

Then Jacob, Lavina and Kalib moved in and often I would walk with all or two of them. Kalib was always on those walks and he even inspired Margie to come on a few - sometimes just her, Kalib and me. The pace was terribly slow and we never went as far as I would have liked, but the company was good.

Now that those three are living in their own home in Anchorage along with new baby Jobe, I am, once again, walking all alone.

That's not really true.

Sometimes, Shadow pops up and walks with me.

He did today.

Sometimes, Shadow will step on the very bottom of my feet. You would think this would be annoying, but I hardly even notice it.

I'm pretty sure that these two guys had planned to stop, jump out of the car, beat me with a baseball bat, take all my money and then head to Taco Bell. But they saw Shadow. See how tough and frightening he looks?

Shadow scared them away. Those poor guys didn't get to go to Taco Bell today and neither did I.

I don't know about Shadow.

Maybe he snuck off and went without me.

Were any of you at Taco Bell today?

Did you see Shadow there?

What did he eat?

Shadow had been walking in front of me, but after I turned the corner, he walked alongside me. We were equals, then.

But when I turned and walked to the south, Shadow walked behind me.

We turned east on Seldon, which can be a fairly busy road. "Hey! You fool!" I shouted at Shadow. "What kind of idiot are you? Don't walk down the middle of the road! You will get run over!"

Shadow did not heed my warning, but just kept on walking.

It was horrible. Shadow got his head run over. Shadow brain matter spread out across the road. "I tried to warn you!" I screamed, "but you wouldn't listen!"

Hmmm... Shadow was not hurt at all. He just kept walking. I guess that's because when you are so flat that you are not even flat, you cannot be flattened.

A mailman came along - the same one who sought to rescue me from Tequilla, the sweetheart bull dog who tries so hard to make me think she is mean. Shadow waved at the postman.

I didn't wave, though. I kept my hands in my pockets.

In the late afternoon, I stepped outside again. I looked for Shadow but he was not there. The sky had turned overcast. 

Shadow, I'm afraid, often proves to be a fair-weather friend.

Well after dark, I took a short walk, just to clear my head. Shadow was with me when I stepped off the porch, but the farther I got from the house, the darker it became. Shadow has a very dark side, yet, he will only step out into the dark when it is punctuated by light. Shadow abandoned me.

Then, a ways down the road, as I passed by a house with the porchlight turned on, Shadow reappeared, walking beside me. Shadow can be sneaky like that, at night.

Shadow. 

Only he knows.

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Reader Comments (13)

This reminds me of the times we played with Shadow as children, hopping, stepping, moving, turning. Shadow was a good playmate.

February 24, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterWhiteStone

Hahahahha! Love this post! I thought Shadow was a friendly dog or something. Now I see he's an old friend of yours.
I'll bet him being around THESE days dont make you none to happy though. (warmer weather...) Darn that Global Warming! It's gonna 'get us all' if something isnt done soon!! But that's a whole 'nother story, for another day.

Thanks for the great pics of Shadow! (veerrrry clever idea for a post)

February 24, 2010 | Unregistered Commenteraview999

I've taken pictures of my shadow, too, but not as many as you! I liked the story that went along with Shadow.

February 24, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterLinda G.

I love this post .. think I will stop by frequently today to re-read and see the pictures of Shadow. Thanks Bill.

February 24, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdaisydem

Me too DaisyDem. Seee? I'mmmmmm back!!

Thanks Bill! you made my mornin' complete!

February 24, 2010 | Unregistered Commenteraview999

And once more....
How CLEVER of you!!

February 24, 2010 | Unregistered Commenteraview999

You give me more hope, Bill -- my granddaughter has gone for walks many times, and we have called the police perhaps 5 times during the last 3 years because it has gotten dark and she has not returned. She is 10 now but she still can't figiure out why I get upset when she isn't home when she should be -- she ALWAYS returns back home, and SHE knows she is ok, and there are always things to do and interesting things to see -- maybe I should buy her the camera she has been longing for (she asked again yesterday for a digital camera).....

February 24, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterGrandma Nancy

Brilliant shot of the shadow behind you.

February 24, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMichelle

Bill - you did not need to worry about the thugs who had plans to beat you and rob you and head off to Taco Bell. You were safe with the Shadow. He knows what evil lurks in the heart of man. He'd have told you right away. He seems attached to you.

February 24, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

got to love that good old shadow, pretty durable guy!

February 24, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMGSoCal

Did you know that in India its a myth not to stare at your shadow? You become thin!! :) I remember my granny warning me daily at evening when we had power cut and used to play with our shadows on the wall!! Making dog fish and many other faces from our hands! I would love to see my granny react to you taking the pics of your shadow :P haha...
Loved you post had a good laugh too. Love your sense of humor!
Take Care,
Suji

February 25, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterSuji

Whitestone - I agree: Shadow was - and is - a good playmate.

aview - Yep. It just seems to be bringing us to a boil and we are like the proverbial frogs in the gradually heating pot.

Linda - That's because I'm a Shadow Catcher,

daisey and aview again - Now I feel that Shadow accomplished something.

Grandma - Yes, get her that camera. And let her know it is not that you doubt that she knows where she is, but that you do not know who else might be out there.

Michelle - High praise, Michelle. High praise. Thank you.

Debby - He is attached to me, but sometimes, at the darkest hour, he abandons me.

MGSoCal - Yes, and I enjoy the way he follows me around - or I follow him, as the case may be.

Suji - I'm happy to see you. That was a good game. We played it too. I did not know that. Next time I come over, I will follow my shadow around, taking pictures.

February 26, 2010 | Registered CommenterWasilla, Alaska, by 300

Phooey on fickle fairweather friends. They are insubstantial anyway.

March 16, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

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