A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

All photos and text © Bill Hess, unless otherwise noted 
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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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Monday
Dec082008

Kalib nearly loses fingers to IHOP fan;* gas war rages

 

After today's Sunday breakfast at IHOP, Kalib noticed the fan spinning over Dad's head.

Dad lifted Kalib up for a better look. Kalib reached for the fan blades, which were spinning at 532 miles per-hour. "Jacob! Jacob!" everybody at the table began to scream. 

Jacob did not appreciate the implication.

*I JOKES! I JOKES!

The new Valley Country Store at the corner of Seldon and Church continues its gas war. Elsewhere in Wasilla, the usual price seems to be $2.59. Curious, though, how this sign at the corner of Seldon and Lucille had been toppled. No wind, either. It has been quite still.

Undaunted, Valley has established a new front at the corner of Church and Spruce. This is all pretty earth-shaking news and it is happening right here, in Wasilla, Alaska.

Saturday
Dec062008

Baby suddenly starts to dart about house, goes wild, wreaks havoc

All of a sudden, Kalib is able to scoot, crawl, and while he can't yet walk outright, he can shuffle about on his feet by grabbing hold of things like the edges of couches and coffee tables to support himself. Hands against the wall are a pretty good source of support as well.

And all of a sudden, today, he scurried all about the living room and the kitchen, raising hell.

 

He gets into a little pantry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I leave grandma to deal with his mischief and retreat to my office. I step back in about ten minutes later and find that he has crawled onto the lower run of this end table. He has a Pepsi bottle and is shaking it vigorously. Margie is dumfounded. "Thirty seconds ago, he was on the other side of the room," she insists.

Again, I retreat to my office.

 

 

 

 

When next I step back into the house, he is getting into the cupboard beneath the microwave - far from the last position that I saw him in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything that is in the cupboard, he pulls out. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kalib closes the cupboard door and goes for the broom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He pulls the broom down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He tests the bristles for texture.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then he gives it a good shake up and down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grandma snatches him from the floor. While I spend all but a few minutes of the day in my office, he keeps her on the run continually. But I must tell you - she does not begrudge him. Margie delights in his company.

In the evening, we celebrate Jacob's birthday. He is much older than four, but four candles is what we have, so four candles he gets. As his dad prepares to blow out the flames, Kalib reaches out to grab one. Dad acts fast, and blows it out just before Kalib's fingers close down on it.

He put in a pretty darn good day.

Saturday
Dec062008

Post delayed due to more technical problems with Squarespace

To anyone who comes here looking for my latest post, I have had to delay it. Squarespace is my bloghost, and, however good their software works in their own environment, about 30 percent of the time it proves to be an absolute nightmare for me when I access it remotely from up here in Alaska.

Tonight has turned into one of those nightmares. I spent a good amount of time editing and processing a dozen photos, and now I have spent the past 30 or 40 minutes trying to find a way to get a recalcitrant Squarespace to load them properly, but it will not do it.

I am giving up for tonight. Before I go to bed, I've got to put up a post on Grahamn Kracker's No Cats Allowed Blog, hosted by blogger, which is absolutely free and does things that Sqaurespace will not do.

I expect to have no problems making the other post on blogger.

I apologize. Sorry.

Thursday
Dec042008

Music to drive home from Wal-Mart by


I had the radio tuned to KSKA, Anchorage Public Radio, when I dropped Margie off at Wal-Mart the other day. A program called, "Rock Island Line" was on the air. The song, as these people walked in front of me into the parking lot, was Bob Dylan's, "Blowing in the Wind," as performed by Peter, Paul and Mary.

I drove home via the low road along the railroad tracks. Right here, the song was "This Land is Your Land," performed by Woody Guthrie himself. I am among those who believe this should be our national anthem.

While it might sound odd to some, as I listened to Guthrie sing, "from California to the New York Islands, from the redwood forests to the gulf-stream waters, this land was made for you and me," I thought of a certain young woman in India, who I call Muse, and who will marry soon. Someday, I hope to play this song in my car, for she and her husband, as I drive them down an American road.

An Alaskan road...

Now, back to Bob Dylan, with help from the Son of David, Ecclesiastes 3:1-8: "To Every Thing There is a Season," or maybe the title is "Turn, Turn" this time performed by Joan Baez.

A Season was still playing when I came upon these two ravens. I pulled into a turnout, and shot through the open window.

One raven flew away. These three boys came walking by.

"Black Bird," by the Beatles, as I passed beneath this raven. That's a lie. I don't remember what song was broadcast here. I wish that it had been "Black Bird." But then you wouldn't have believed me.

Bob Dylan again - this time, performed by Bob Dylan: "Shelter From the Storm." Most appropriate.

Still "Shelter."

Altogether too appropriate: "Cumbaya" A few years back, I heard about a crash on this corner that killed a mother and her baby. Shortly after that, someone put up the cross on the left.

The cross on the right came later. It says, "Dad." I do not know the story.

"Someone's crying, my Lord, Cumbaya, someone's crying, my Lord, Cumbaya..." I don't remember who was singing. So many have done this song and when I remember back to this moment, I can hear different versions of it in my head.

"The Eerie Canal." Again, I cannot recall the performers."

"Winkin and Blinkin and nod..." The boy carries a rifle.

"Michael, Row the Boat Ashore..."

Puff, the Magic Dragon - Peter, Paul and Mary, of course.

"Mommas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys..." - Willie Nelson. Not really... another lie. But it is a cow. Cow moose. Someone ought to enter it in a rodeo, let some cowboy chase it on a horse, lasso it, trip it, jump off his horse, tie its hoofs together and then raise his hands into the air.

I wonder how fast he could do it?

Wednesday
Dec032008

Tired, lazy, busy

Lazy today. Tired, too. Still two hours before normal bedtime, can hardly keep eyes open. Busy today, too, but accomplished nothing. Took a total of only two pictures, all day. This one, when I was driving to Taco Bell by myself. I forgot to change the ISO from indoors, so it was set at 1600, shutter speed 1/60. Then I also shot through a dirty, cracked window.

Still, it is what I saw, so here it is.

And this one, while gassing up my car as the guy getting out of the gas truck gasses up the gas station.

Compared to the other morning, it had warmed up greatly, about 30 degrees. The temperature was in the 20's, but the wind blew brisk and I wore a light jacket, which I was too lazy to zip up. So even though it was warm, it felt damn cold, standing there, gassing up the car, listening to the rattling diesel engine of the truck run as it pumped gas into the gas station.

I have great ambitions for this blog. What I am doing for now is using it to hold the space, until I can figure out how to find the time to build it into what I want it to become.