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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Friday
Apr012011

Larry Aiken is visited by family and friends; prayers are said

When next I went to visit Larry, I found him with his dad, Wesley, his mother, Anna and his sister, Iqi Aiken, all of whom live in Barrow.

Wesley, by the way, witnessed the fall that I took in the Barrow High cafeteria when I shattered my shoulder and wound up with a need to get a titanium replacement. My memories of that are a little strange, but the sight of him next to me as he tried to determine how badly hurt I had been and the calmness in his voice as he sought to convince me that I could not shake this off but must go to the hospital immediately is very clear - and appreciated.

Soon, Larry's nephew Wesley Aiken entered and greeted him with a hug.

So we did another family pose to include young Wesley and girlfriend Katie Okpeaha.

But we could not have family poses and leave cousin Percy out. It was Percy who had twice come down to Anchorage with Larry to serve as his escort and see him through. Percy is a Certified Nursing Assistant and over the past several years has cared for people, including his parents in their final years.

His mother, the late Martha Aiken, told him that he should become a registered nurse. It is now his goal to do just that and to work in the new hospital that is nearing completion in Barrow.

So we did still another pose.

Friends came, too, including Harry Ahngasuk who appeared in Wednesday's post, his wife, Sarah, Leo Kaleak and Joshua Sours and Irene Thomas from Kotzebue.

Joshua offered a prayer. In it, he thanked God that the surgery had gone so much better and that Larry had come through it in a manner that even his surgeon has described as a miracle. In his prayer, he said that Larry must have important things yet to do, and that is why he experienced such a miraculous healing.

He said Larry would be shown the way to do those things still ahead for him.

Soon, a man entered the room and a big strong hand reached out and took Larry's hand.

It was his Uncle Lewis, brother to his dad. People still talk about how, when he worked as a laborer, Lewis could single-handedly pick up full, 55 gallon fuel drums one after the other and hoist them into waiting trucks. Now he shared his strength with his nephew.

Remember Leroy Paul Wilson, originally of Kotzebue, who sang gospel the night before Larry went into surgery? He came by as well and offered a prayer in which he spoke of the healing that had taken place. "That was you, Jesus," he said. He told Larry that Jesus has been with him.

If all this seems pretty heavy, just remember that before he went into surgery, Larry had been advised by his doctors that he would have to spend two weeks in the Intensive Care Unit and that for most of that time, he would need to be so heavily sedated that he would not even recognize his visitors - but the surgery went so well that all of this was avoided.

What I learned later is that Paul also has a close loved one in the hospital, fighting for life. I did not get a chance to talk to him about it, so I will mention no details, but I think that all those for whom Paul has prayed and who believe in prayer themselves might now also pray for him and his loved one.

What I did not say in my earlier post was that not only did Larry's surgeon remove the cancer tumor, but to do so, she had to take half of his stomach and about six inches of his esophagus. 

Larry said that he had slept better the night before then he had for months. Often, when he did sleep briefly, he would wake up choking, gasping for air. He did not choke. His breath was clear and unobstructed.

 

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Reader Comments (4)

Bill, you are a Samaritan to so very many. Thank you for caring so much for your friends and family, and letting those of us unknown to you see goodness in a whole new way.

April 1, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterKathryn

Great news and I hope you fully recover soon Larry!

April 1, 2011 | Unregistered Commenterdahli22

This post is wonderful. So much love. Thanks Bill!

April 1, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterMichelle

I lived in Barrow for two years in the early 90's. I really enjoy these uplifting posts, esp. about the great folks of Barrow!

April 1, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterNancy in Palmer

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