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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
Oct182011

Sleeping Lynx update; accident blocked by and seen in rearview mirror; those who root for the opposition

DateTuesday, October 18, 2011 at 11:47PM

Today I drove into Anchorage to do a little work with some young people who had come down from the North Slope to attend the Elders and Youth Conference, held in conjunction with the Alaska Federations of Natives Convention. At lunch, I dropped by Jake and Lavina's where I got to see baby Lynxton.

As usual when I see him, he was asleep.

He is growing and needs his sleep.

I left early, a bit after 3:00 PM, because I have much production work that needs to be done and will have almost no time for AFN this year. As I entered Wasilla, I saw what appeared to be a pretty bad traffic accident. There were a number of vehicles involved, spread over a wide area on and off the highway, at least three ambulances, several police cars and some fire department vehicles.

A victim was being strapped onto a backboard.

Soon, the accident became a shrinking image in my rearview mirror and I drove off toward home - just like we always do after we come upon an accident.

Still, as I drove away I thought of the oft-quoted John Donne line, the one that inspired the title of one of Hemingway's most famous books: "Ask not for whom the siren wails - it wails for thee."

Or something like that.

And yes, it has wailed for me so many times... for my brother Ron, for Margie's father Randy, her sister Melinda, Anil, husband of my soul friend Soundarya followed so shockingly and rapidly by Soundarya herself... and these are just a few. The list is long... long... long... altogether too long.

As usual, I wondered why The Creator of this earth designed things this way. Many people of varying faith claim to know. Me, I don't know.

Tonight, I searched online for some information about the accident, but could not find anything. If there had been fatalities I am certain I would have found something.

Still, lives were undoubtedly changed... I hope not too badly, and I hope not irreversibly. 

Tonight, among others, I began to edit my pictures of the final two Barrow Whalers football games.

I came upon this image of the cheerleaders for Nikiski, running the track just before the championship game.

I know I will not use it in my publication, because if I do, that would be one less picture of the Barrow kids that I can put in and that publication will be for them and their fans.

So I use it here, and will hope that some of the Nikiski cheerleaders happen upon it.

 

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AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment3 Comments |
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Reader Comments (3)

wish i knew the answer myself...wonderful picture

October 19, 2011 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

Huh? The Creator of this earth didn't design things to answer our every question, just as parents don't raise their kids to immediately understand everything they confront in their lives. Being able to rise to the occasion is part of being human, innit?

October 19, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterAlbert Lewis

Looks like you have another adorable grandson on your hands!

October 19, 2011 | Unregistered Commenterdahli22

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