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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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Entries in Jim the amateur weatherman (1)

Wednesday
Apr012009

Jim, the amateur weatherman, takes care of his fifteen month old granddaughter so that her mother can go to college and her dad to war

DateWednesday, April 1, 2009 at 8:13PM

In the old days, before Serendipity destroyed the life that I had led here, I would sometimes come across Jim in the woods, he walking one way with a dog and I, the other, also with a dog. Then developers tore down the woods, built high-priced houses and named their construction of the destruction of my way of life, Serendipity.

Years passed, and I did not see Jim. Then, on a sub-zero day last fall I met him again while walking along the new Seldon Road extension that sepates Lower Serendipity from Upper Serendipity - where the really expensive houses have been built.

We stopped to visit. I saw him again a couple of days later and then no more after that, until today, when we crossed paths in just about the exact same serendipitous place.

The big news in his life is that he and his wife are now taking care of their 15 month old great-granddaughter so that his granddaughter can go to college and her Army husband can train at Fort Richardson for his imminent departure to fight in Afghaniston.

"That must be fun," I said, thinking about how fun it is to have Kalib around here.

Jim's eyes went wide in agreement and dismay . "Oh, yes!" he said, "She's fun, but she's 15 months old and she is fast." She zips about here, and she zips about there. "They drop her off Sunday night and then pick her up Friday night.

"Her name is Natalie, but I call her Sweet Pea. Did you ever watch Popeye? She's just like Popeye's Sweet Pea." Sweet Pea, of course, forever scoots all over the place, zipping from chaos and hazard to hazard and chaos, and is always innocent of it.

I mentioned that by the end of the month, the snow will be gone (except perhaps for patches in shady places). Wasilla will look like a different place than it does now. Not green yet, no leaves will have broken out, but the temperature will consistently be above freezing and they will be budding, getting ready to sprout.

Jim told me that he mans a little weather station at his house and keeps a daily record of what happens. This winter, he recorded 57 days below zero, several in the - 30's and a few in the - 40's. Eight feet of snow fell in his yard, but there was a big meltdown in January.

March had nine sub-zero days, or maybe it was seven. He could not remember for certain.

Remember, Outside readers, Wasilla is not in one of Alaska's cold zones. Ours' is a more temperate climate than you will find in Alaska's cold zones.

After Jim went his way and I mine, I saw these kids, fresh off their school bus, walk into Lower Serendipity.

And these two walked the other way, into Upper Serendipty. Their parents must be really rich.

I leave Serendipity. A car with a man and woman in the front seat comes down Ward's Road.

And this girl walks toward Serendipity. I do not know if she ultimately walked into Lower or Upper, because I headed home, to Ravenview.

A moose crossed the road a hundred yards in front of me, but by the time I could get my camera out of my pocket and turn it on, it had disappeared into the trees.

And that pretty much defines everything that happened in Wasilla this day that is worth defining.

But in Alaska, it was a big news day.

Go to the Anchorage Daily News, and you can read all about it.

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | CommentPost a Comment |
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