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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Thursday
May062010

A raven, military jets and an airplane fly over the place where the moose crossed the road

Before I came upon the place where the moose crossed the road, Caleb pulled up to the window of Metro Cafe so that I could buy a coffee to go with my oatmeal. The reason I was in Caleb's car and not my own is because I had just taken it into the shop at Kendall Ford to get the solenoid camshaft replaced. I had originally made the appointment for 1:00 PM, but then I got an email from Kendall to remind me that the appointment was at 8:00 AM. 

This did not make me happy, but, what the hell. I drove the car over. "We have you down for 1:00 o'clock," Mark told me after I drove into the garage, "but we'll get right on it."

Caleb then picked me up and that is why is driving.

It was Caleb's first time at Metro.

"Oh, you're cute!" Carmen teased him. "Do you have anybody?"

"No, not right now," Caleb answered.

"I'll look and see if I can find someone for you."

The folks at Kendall Ford had told me the repair job would take two-and-a-half to three hours.

This is the direction that the moose had come from, before it crossed the road. I had huge workday ahead of me, but I couldn't do anything until I took a walk. 

So I walked by the pond that the kids had named, "Little Lake," when they were small.

I think it was Caleb who gave it that name. Even in dry years when the water was low, there was a lot more water in Little Lake then.

These are the tracks that the moose left as it crossed the road. I figure the moose must have walked right through Little Lake.

These are the tracks it made as it went down the other side of the road.

These are the same three ducks from the opposite side of the pond. It goes without saying that I could have gotten a much better photo of them if I had been carrying a high-resolution dslr and a big lens, but I was only carrying my pocket camera.

It's okay, though. The world is full of great pictures of ducks taken with bigger cameras and big telephoto lenses. So it's alright that I didn't add one more.

A seagull then came flying by, looking for something to eat. I had nothing to give it.

After I photographed the ducks, I set out walking towards home through the marsh. Dodd Shay, the property owner, doesn't like me to call it a marsh - or a swamp. He calls it a meadow. Although he was initially wrong, I fear that he has become correct.

When the kids were growing up, I would have been at least ankle deep in water here, maybe knee deep, even thigh deep - seeing as how our snow has just melted and you don't have to go far to get to places where it is still melting.

But the marsh is pretty dry now and has been for several years now.

No cranes hang out here anymore.

Ducks and geese still stop to visit the pond, but the nests and eggs which once abounded in this meadow through which I walk have been moved elsewhere.

As I walked, a raven flew over me, beneath the disintegrating trails of three jets that had obviously passed over a while back.

I had not gone far before I heard the distant, high, rising-in-crecendo shriek of jets coming. If you look to the place where you hear the high flying jets, you will never see them because by the time you hear them, they have long left that place behind.

So I studied the sky ahead of the sound.

Then I spotted these two military jets, flying together.

Three, actually. Perhaps these are the same three that left the trails that the raven flew beneath. Perhaps the pilots wanted to get another look at that raven, so they came back to see if they could spot it.

Next, I heard the pleasant drone of an airplane - it up there, me down here.

For lunch, I ate a bowl of Campbell's split-pea and ham soup. As he has been doing lately, Jimmy came out with me and wandered around while I ate. It wasn't warm on the porch like it had been, though. It was chilly. 

Chicago and Royce came to the window to observe. Chicago is strickly a house cat, but Royce has always been an indoor/outdoor kind of guy. So far this spring, when I have taken Jimmy out, Royce has stopped at the threshold and has then remained inside. He has studied me from there.

At 4:00 PM, I pedaled my bike to Metro. The air had turned too cool now to enjoy a sit on the patio, so I took my coffee inside.

As I drank and listened to All Things Considered through my iPhone ear-set, this lady pulled up to the window. It was just about closing time. She and Carmen visited for maybe ten minutes. Then it was time for me to go, so I shot:

Through the Metro Window in Reverse, Study # 47: Carmen and Ann.

Carmen says Ann comes every day. "Just like you," she adds, "but even more, because you travel."

Due to the series of injuries suffered by myself and Margie, I have done much less traveling these past two years than normal.

I think this may be about to change.

Eight hours had now passed since I had dropped the car off to get repaired. After ten hours passed, I was informed that it had turned into a much more complicated job than had originally been anticipated. They would need to keep the car overnight.

A cold, light, rain fell upon me as I pedaled my bike home, but stopped just before I reached the place where the moose had earlier crossed the road. Now, there was a rainbow. A faint rainbow, but a rainbow none-the-less - the first rainbow I have seen this year.

I then buckled down and worked very hard at my computer until 2:00 AM.

I thoroughly enjoyed it, too, because I listened to Creedence Clearwater Revival and Hank Williams on iTunes.

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Reader Comments (8)

Wow Bill, those ducks look good to me! You just added to my fears of what I am afraid of nowadays... New or Newer cars that have so many complicated electronics that even the shops that sell them cannot get the repair job done quickly or easily. As of last night, I sold the last small car I owned. Now I have the motorcycle and the 1962 Oldsmobile Starfire. I have been contemplating getting a newer car, but I still have a lot of doubts. I guess I should get on my pedal bike and start seeing the world at a slower pace without burning fossil fuels as well! Take care! Charlie

May 6, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterCharlie

great pictures ....love the birds and cats. Hope the car repair will not set you back to much. every time my car has to go to the shop i see big $ signs

May 6, 2010 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

He is Cute! ;) Carmen looks like she might be a good matchmaker too. Any woman who saw Caleb with those little boys would swoon.

May 6, 2010 | Unregistered Commentermocha

Hi Royce!

(and everyone else)

May 6, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMichelle

It used to be that a motor manual would make a mechanic out of anyone capable of reading and holding a wrench at the same time. I remember reading the instructions to my younger brother while he replaced a water pump in his 1962 Chevy. Now, autos are too complex.
*sigh*

May 6, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterWhiteStone

ahhhhh....."strickly". The word is "strictly"

May 7, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterGerry

Gerry,
You're too funny. You get the Booby prize...Bill hides 'artistic spellings' in some of his blog entries just to keep things interesting and us on our toes!! Continue to look for those "words" and have fun with them. Bill is an all around great teacher...

----------------------
Bill,
Keep up the good work...we appreciate YOU!!

May 7, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterFunny Face

Charlie - I look forward to seeing you drive the Starfire again.

Twain - By now you know it is under warranty.

Mocha - Carmen has a challenge - not because girls are not attracted to Caleb, they are. But he has been hurt and he is a little gun shy right now.

Michelle - Royce, and everyone else, says hi.

Whitestone - Yes, those days are gone.

Gerry - You are absolutely right, but I am curious about one thing. On the average, I make 39.347 typograpical errors with each post and 41.6 grammatical errors. What caused you to single out this one? When I get rich, I will hire you to be my proofreader.

Funny Face - Thank you. Under the best of circumstance, proof reading is nearly impossible for me, because I know what it is supposed to say and that's how I read it. Under blogging conditions, when I must write fast and post immediately, proof reading is an impossible act.

I just can't worry too much about it.

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