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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Tuesday
Aug102010

Barrow Whalers season opener, part 4 of 5: The game is fought to its conclusion 

Okay, folks, I was supposed to have all this done before lunchtime, because I have many other things to do this afternoon and tonight. So I must hurry along with minimal commentary; I cannot waste time writing excess verbiage or hyperbole, I cannot throw out words willy-nilly. If a word doesn't need to be used to tell the story, then I must discipline myself, just as a football player must discipline himself and I must avoid that word and all such words, because they are unnecessary and if they are unnecessary and I have little time and I do not need them, then why I should I waste my time as a writer and yours as reader?*

So I will get right to it. Benson carries the ball, as the Wolverine defense comes after him.

He eludes the Wolverine defense.

But it is a tough game, and the Wolverine defense fights hard.

With the wind behind him, Benson throws a pass.

It is close. The pass bounces off the end of the fingers of James Snow as Wolverine defenders unsuccessfully try to snatch it from him. 

After the Wolverines intercept a pass, they score themselves - and they go for two extra points and get them. This gives them the lead, 8-6.

Coach Houston gives some instruction on the sidelines.

After Adrian Panigeo makes the intital contact, Emmanuel Samuelu helps him bring down the tackle. Panigeo's hit can be seen in the slide show linked at the bottom.

 

During what proved to be a critical moment in the game, I was focusing my camera upon Mia, Jay, and Jimeniz Sanchez, who were growing very animated. The cause of their excitement was the fact that their son and brother, Jessie, had just sacked the wolverin quarterback in the Whaler's end zone for a two point safety.

During what proved to be a critical moment in the game, I was focusing my camera upon Jay and Mia Sanchez and their daughter, Jimeniz, who were growing quite animated. The cause of their excitement was the fact that their son and brother, Jessie, was sacking the Wolverine quarterback in the Whaler's end zone for a two point safety.

This tied score is now tied, 8-8. Emmanuel Samuelu and Ben Jones celebrate.

What the Sanchez's see soon after is not something they like. Their son, Jessie, takes a late hit from the opposing quarter back that he sacked and gets hurt. He limps off the field, hurting with a possible hamstring and takes a seat upon an ice pack. 

Jessie Sanchez sits on the ice pack. 

The game continues. On a fourth down punt, Benson snatches the ball from the wind and runs in for a touch down. Again, the two point conversion fails. The whalers now lead, 14 - 8. There is just over two minutes left to play.

The Wolverines try to make a go of it, but once again the Whaler defense comes through. Trace Hudson does his job.

And then the game is over. The Whalers celebrate.

After the usual handshakes, the Whalers invite the Wolverines - who have, indeed, learned to respect them as a real football team, to join them for a prayer. They do. I think the respect is mutual, at this point.

As he fights off the pain, Sanchez is helped off the field by Brody Woods and Robert Brulette. Yet, he is happy, for the Whalers have won their first game.

*After I wrote the first paragraph, I did a save and then hurried on as fast as I could to the end. I then did another save, but encountered a Squarespace glitch that wiped out every word that I had written from the first paragraph on, so I had to scroll back up and do it all over again.

That's how life goes when one gets in a hurry.

Now I really must hurry on part 5. I bet I can get it done quick.


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slide show contains extra images not included in the narrative


 

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Reader Comments (1)

grate photographs i loved them

August 16, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterriana

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