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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Entries in Lavina (134)

Friday
May272011

The boys come out for the weekend, Muzzy is shorn; the landing in Point Hope; the unsure takeoff

The boys came out this morning. They are going to spend the weekend with us so that their parents can work on their house.

It was their mom who brought them. She brought Muzzy, too. Muzzy had been to the dog groomers and now had a bit of the poodle look. Lavina and Muzzy couldn't stay, because Lavina had to get to work. So she opened the back door to her car and Muzzy jumped in.

He jumped right back out. So she had him jump in again. I think Muzzy enjoys making multiple jumps into the car.

And yes, my recent Arctic series is still in the works, still coming. To prove it, here is a picture that I took exactly one month ago today, right after we landed in Point Hope.

Anyway, the editing is going very slowly, because I don't have much time for it. Also, it just dawned on me that this is a holiday weekend and so my readership will be down - especially if the weather stays as beautiful, sweet and magnificent as it is right now. I will not bother to post the series until the holiday has passed and sunburnt readers come straggling back.

Perhaps I drive some readers nuts with my ever-shifting plans and frequent delays, many of which I just let slip unseen into the past as the present takes over.

Look at this way - you are getting to observe an experiment being conducted by a photographer/writer of at least some talent who has spent the past 35 years making a living in certain ways that he sees coming to an end. These ways of making a living have not ended for him yet, but the end is swiftly coming and it will soon be over and archived.

So he is looking for a way to both survive and create in the new reality that is ever shifting in front of him, dominated by bright, young, energetic and creative talent who understand current trends and digital code much better than he does.

This blog is not the vehicle that will allow him to truly survive in the looming new times, but it is a part of getting there, a part that he clings to as he struggles to find the solution, to take the next step, knowing just what he wants to do but not yet how to make it happen.

Will he succeed? Or will he fail?

I bet on success.

But it is a bet, a gamble, the outcome greatly in question.

So keep coming back, keep watching. Take a front-row seat and watch this spectacle unfold. In time, the answer will be clear.

 

View images as slides


 

Friday
May202011

They'rrrrrrre baaaaack.... in the blog: Jobe, Lavina, Kalib, Jacob and Margie - in that order

How long has it been since this face has appeared in my blog? Six weeks? Something like that. And look, in this, the very first frame that I shot of him upon our reunion, he is just standing around. STANDING around. Not wobbling shakily. Standing.

As though it is no big deal at all. As though it is just something that a little kid would be expected to do.

Jobe. 

Standing around.

And he walks around at will, too.

I was worried that after all this time, he might have forgotten his grampa. Remember how he loved me? How he adored me?

Has he now forgotten me?

After a brief period of study and contemplation, he walked right over and sat down on my lap. He had not forgotten.

And then he went out to play with Martigny. Martigny did not not want to play with him. Maybe it was the "woof" on his shirt that scared her away.

I'm afraid Jobe has been sick the past couple of days. Respiratory infection. 

Jobe needed rest.

Still, he gets up and moves happily around. He is getting better.

Then Jacob called, to say that he and Kalib were coming home from their walk and would soon reach the nearby park. I went out to see and this is the first frame I shot, right after they came into view.

Last time I saw them, there was a still a good amount of snow here. Now the leaves have come out.

Kalib went straight for the slide. As he started down, he looked up at his dad to see what his dad would do.

His dad came sliding after...

Kalib threw some pebbles into a slide chute and then watched as they tumbled and slid back down.

Then he ran off and his dad chased after.

Soon, they were in the house, eating popsicles. When offered a variety of colors, Kalib chose the green one. Then he saw his mom pick a red one for herself and decided that the red one would be better instead.

I also had a red one.

The red ones are best.

Although the green is pretty good.

It was about 10:30 PM now. Margie's flight was scheduled to arrive at 1:38 AM. I had come in early just so I could finally see the boys, but Jobe was now asleep and the rest would soon join them.

That meant I had three hours to wait.

The prospect horrified me.

What I could I do with all that time?

I could go sit in a bar and sip root beer, wink my eyes at honkey tonk women and say stupid things as they danced and sauntered across the floor.

Instead, I laid back on the couch. I sank right into it.

I closed my eyes. The lids were so heavy, I did not feel like I could ever open them again.

I fell asleep right there. At 1:09 AM, I forced myself to get up and go. I drove to the airport and picked Margie up. Her plane had come in half-an-hour early and she was standing there waiting when I pulled up, so I stopped, she put the one bag that she had left with in the back plus the other that she had bought and filled in Arizona and jumped in. 

I took off without even taking a picture.

As regular readers know, it is our tradition to go out for breakfast the morning after either one of us returns from a trip.

So this morning we went to Family Restaurant - no, not Mat-Su Valley Family Restaurant but Denali Family Restaurant, just a few miles further up the Parks Highway.

I would not have even known about this brand new restaurant had I not gone to Fairbanks to cover Katie John's graduation, but I saw it as I drove home.

If they had named it, "Mckinley Family Restaurant," I would never have tried it. I would not have walked through the door. I try never to patronize a business that bears the name, "Mckinley." I stick to "Denali."

Inside, it was very much like Mat-Su Family Restaurant. The decor was similar, the menu similar, the food similar and the plates exactly the same. Even all the staff that I could see, including the waitresses, were staff I recognized from Mat-Su Valley Family Restaurant.

So I thought maybe it was an extension, built by the same owner to compete with him/herself.

No. It wasn't. It was built by a competitor and the staff that I could see had all been hired away.

Breakfast was very good - the hash browns cooked just right and, I hate to say it, better than at Mat-Su. 

I will still continue to patronize Mat-Su. It is a bit closer. And Mat-Su Valley Family Restaurant has helped me bear some extremely hard mornings. Very hard mornings. Mornings that followed nights of turmoil and grief, nights without sleep.

So I will keep going to Mat-Su Valley Family Restaurant.

But I will patronize Denali, too. Good hash browns are a big draw to me.

Margie enjoyed it, too.

It was the first time she had drank coffee in weeks, she said. 

She stayed with her sister, who remains a pretty active, decent and abiding Mormon. She allows visitors to brew coffee for themselves, but Margie did not feel like brewing coffee for just one so she abstained.

Tomorrow, I will discuss a recent NPR story about the health benefits of coffee - particularly for the prostate - and will thank a generous, almost not-anonymous lady who bought me a coffee at Metro the other day.

Margie is glad to be home, but she says it feels cold here.

"I have come back to winter," she said.

This, even though the leaves are sprouting out here and it snowed three inches at her sisters house 6000 feet up in Arizona her final morning there.

Still, it was warmer there than here.

Which it ought to have been.

 

View images as slideshow

(warning - slideshow contains additional photos of Jobe and Kalib not seen in the actual post)

 

 

Sunday
Apr102011

Kalib rocks in the canoe, Jobe rocks on the piano and then they are gone; fantasies of life as a dedicated and successful "Grampa Blogger"

Yesterday, I posted but one picture and a bit of text, noting that even as I did so, I was hearing the sounds of Kalib and Margie outside and I wanted to go see what was up.

After I made that post, I went outside and this is what I found.

Kalib, in the tiny remnant of this season's pitiful snowfall - perhaps the least that we have seen in all of our 30 winters here.

I mentioned the sound of him tapping a canoe with a stick? Actually, he was filling the old, green, Coleman canoe with rocks. We must drain this water out of it soon, before it becomes a breeding place for mosquitoes.

We kept the boys with us all day so that Jacob and Lavina could accomplish all that they needed to accomplish before they had to go to airport to board the plane and begin their trip to New Mexico/Arizona. We brought the boys home a bit after 8:00 PM. 

Jacob was still at work, working on a project he had to complete before leaving. Lavina still had much to do, including some shopping.

So Margie and I told her we would come right back after we a paid a visit to Larry Aiken at the hospital. 

That is what we did - although Larry was in deep and needed sleep and never knew we had come.

Soon, Jobe was rocking up a storm on his little piano.

My goodness! This tot has talent!

Those were actual notes that he played, several at a time.

The boys with their mom, not long before their dad came home. I think this would be a good one to make black and white, but I don't have time right now.

This morning, the rock-filled water in the canoe had frozen over. Lavina sent me a text from LAX, where they have a long layover before continuing on to Albuquerque. "Kalib loving all the planes... he's screaming "jet" for all to hear!"

For awhile, I was getting worried about whether or not Kalib was ever going to start talking. It seemed to me that it was taking longer than it ought to. But now he is talking all the time.

I cannot understand everything that he says, but I understand a lot.

Like, when we drove them home the other night, the light turned yellow on us at the awkward time - the time when you are not sure if you should continue or stop, because it is that close. I decided to stop, and so stopped quickly.

"Gosh, grampa!" he said.

Then I bought him an ice cream cone at McDonald's and handed it over the seat back to him. It was kind of stretch and I did not know if he could reach it.

"Can you get it?" I asked.

"I get it," he answered. And he got it.

Last night, just before we left them, his dad had returned. They had been playing with a toy shark maybe three inches long, but it disappeared.

"Damnit, Daddy!" Kalib swore.

This time, I'm not teasing, either.

That's really what he said.

"Damnit, Daddy!"

Damnit, anyway. Now they are gone and I am not going to see them for at least three weeks, maybe longer. Maybe a month. They will only be gone for two weeks, but I will be gone when they get back.

Sometimes, I think maybe I should just drop all other ambitions and be a full-time "Grampa blogger." There's lots of "mommy bloggers" out there, you know, and at least a few of them have figured out how to make a very good living doing it.

If I were a grampa blogger, I could be at LAX with them right now, waiting to board the flight to ABQ. 

And then I could go tag around with them in ABQ. I could then follow them to Lavina's childhood home in the Navajo Nation, where they are going to help shear sheep. Oh, the photos I could take! Next, I would follow them to the White Mountain Apache Res, where grandma is going to go down and meet them, too; where everyone but me and a few billion other people will get together in Carrizo Canyon on Easter Sunday, have an Apache style cookout and hunt Easter eggs.

These are the kinds of things that I could be doing, right now, with my grandsons, if I were a dedicated and successful Grampa blogger.

I think my love and dedication for and to Alaska ought to be clear to anyone. But I would really like to be there for that sheep shearing. I would really like to be there for that Easter Egg hunt. And one time, in Albuquerque, Lisa and I paid a visit to the acquarium.

Oh, my goodness! Kalib is going to go nuts when he sees those sharks swimming around! "Shark! Shark! Shark!" he will be hollering. Jobe will watch the sharks in quiet fascination. He will study their every move and gesture.

And if I were a dedicated and successful Grandpa blogger, I could catch it all.

And then we could return to Alaska. Jobe will really be walking by then. We could go hiking. We could go canoeing. I could begin to show my grandsons this great place they call Alaska. I could take them to Prince William Sound when the Copper River King and Red salmon come in; I could take them to the Arctic Slope to witness the landing of a whale by their large adopted family, onto the Yukon to see fishwheels turning. We could do it all, my grandsons and I - if I could but be a dedicated, successful, Alaska Grampa blogger.

I wonder why I never thought of this before?

 

View images as slides

 

Wednesday
Apr062011

Jobe's stepping out party, finale: Kalib wields a big knife and cooks cajun; bull rider, wild daughters, et al, Friday... Friday... Friday

Although there is more that I could do with it, it is time to wrap this party up. If I don't, Jobe will be jogging through the park with Muzzy and I will still be blogging about his first step stepping out party.

So, anyway, here is Kalib, wielding a big knife to cut up a patato for the soup that he is cooking, Cajun style.

It kind of scared me to see Kalib wield such a big knife, but Jacob closely monitored and oversaw every movement.

After putting the potatoes into the soup, Jacob chopped up some fresh seasoning. Kalib scoops it up.

Kalib throws the seasoning into one of the three pots of stew being cooked.

Kalib chucks shrimp into one of the other pots. It splashed on my lens and I had to take some time out to clean it.

After I cleaned my lens, I was headed back to photograph Kalib adding the final ingredients, but I was distracted by a rodeo bull rider in the hall. The bull rider was Kalib and Jobe's cousin, Ashley Bismarck Atene. The bull was Muzzy.

When I finally made it back to the kitchen, I found that the final ingredient, crab, had been added to the mix. For any readers who do not know, Charlie works for an air freight company that hauls goods around Alaska. The crab were part of a shipment that came in from Nome and Charlie was able to pick the crab up at bargain basement prices.

His work done, Kalib observes as Lisa and Bryce arrive.

Lisa hugs her mom as Jobe shows off his walking toes and chubby hands.

My daughters went wild. Lisa pulled up a video on YouTube and they sat there laughing at it, mocking it. Bryce and Charlie joined in. I had to know what it was about. They said that it was the worst video ever made and that, as such, it was now the most popular video in all the world.

So I took a look and this is what I saw, this girl and other girls and an older guy, even, singing about Friday. Friday, Friday, Friday. The worst thing about it, my wild daughters said, is that once you hear the song, you cannot get it out of your head and from then on you will just be hearing, "Friday, Friday, Friday..." over and over in your mind until you go insane.

Maybe if you are young, gullible and impressionable this would be true. But for a more mature, seasoned, disciplined brain like mine, it proved to be no problem. The song did not stick.

His grandma had been holding Jobe, but Friday he wanted to try to do some more walking.

Friday...

He walked to his Friday Aunt Lisa - but he used the Friday couch to cheat a bit.

Friday... Friday... Friday....

He Friday walked to his Friday mom.

Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....

Then it was Friday time for Friday Jobe to go to bed. He became a Friday shark.

Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....

And Friday Jake suffered a Friday shark attack.

Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....

Ashley's  Friday parents had been to a Friday  movie, but they Friday came back to pick Friday Ashley up in time to eat. So here they Friday are: Friday Julie Bismarck, Anthony Friday (Ants) Atene and Friday Ashley. Ants is Lavina's Friday brother. He came up from Friday Arizona a few years back Friday to visit and work and that is when Friday he met Julie, who is Athabascan Friday from Tyonek.

Since then, their Friday lives have been Friday divided up between the Friday Navajo Nation and Friday Anchorage.

Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....

This is Julian, Friday their youngest, close Friday to Jobe's age. He slept the whole Friday time I was there.

When I came home, I left Margie Friday so that she could babysit Jobe. Last night, Friday, I went back to pick her up, Friday Friday but Jobe was not feeling well, so I  Friday again returned home by Friday myself.

Depending on how Friday Jobe is feeling, I will go back and Friday pick her up tonight or Friday not.

Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....Friday... Friday... Friday....

 

View images as slides

Monday
Mar282011

It was a Jobe-Kalib kind of day

I had thought that I might go somewhere Sunday, but I felt extremely lazy and Kalib and Jobe had come to the house with their mom so I decided to stay put and hang out with them.

Here is Margie and Jobe at breakfast - breakfast being eggs, hashbrowns, spam and wheat pancakes.

I guess Jobe must have proven too irresistible to his grandma. Regular viewers will note that something is different, here, than in the past. In the past, in such a situation, Jobe would invariably have been focused upon the grandpa that he adores.

Now he is looking elsewhere. At what?

It was the movie, How to Train Your Dragon. I was in Barrow on February 12 when Jobe turned one, but the family took him to The Bear Tooth that day to see this very film on the big screen while dining on pizza. I am told that he sat transfixed all the way through it - this despite the fact that by then, Kalib had already viewed the movie 2,392 times on the TV and Jobe must have picked up on some of that.

Jobe remains transfixed by the movie, but, still, he does not altogether ignore the presence of his grandpa.

As for Kalib, he has now seen this movie 5,969 times - and he watches it again - intently, because one never knows what might happen, this time.

"Yay for the dragons!" Dragons are really good guys, you know - gentle at heart.

After the movie, Jobe turned his attention to the little vacuum cleaner.

Jobe and the vacuum cleaner.

I kept thinking that this was the day he was going to take his first step, and I kept my camera ready.

He didn't take it. Undoubtedly, he will already be walking the next time I see him and I will have missed that first step. I hope his parents get to see it.

What if it happens when he is at daycare?

 

View images as slides

 

 

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