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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 Mat-Su Regional Medical Center (1)

Thursday
Nov172011

Margie off to the emergency room; awaiting surgery

DateThursday, November 17, 2011 at 4:08PM

After spending a couple of days in town helping to take care of the little ones, Lavina brought Margie home about this time yesterday afternoon. At first, all seemed good with her. Later, she started to complain about abdominal pains. Then, even bundled up under blankets or standing just inches from the blazing wood stove she felt that she was freezing.

Outside, it was freezing - the temperature wasn't bad, but windchills were down to 40 below, they said on the radio. Inside it was warm, but Margie was shivering and freezing.

I kept saying we should take her to the emergency room but she kept refusing to go, saying this would pass and she would be okay.

Just before 10:00 PM, her suffering struck me as extreme so I told her we were going and that was that.

So off we went to the Emergency room of the Mat-Su Regional Medical Center.

The story gets kind of long and I am in no mood to tell it right now and am even wondering whatever got into me to ever include daily life in my blogging at all, but, to make it short, Margie is now at the Alaska Native Medical Center in Anchorage. Before they sent her there, the doctor thought her gall bladder might have to be removed even before the night was over, but the the medication they gave her by IV worked.

Now, the doctor in Anchorage thinks she may not need to have her gall bladder removed, but she has some bad gall stones which definitely must to go. So they are evaluating her further to see which route to go - full bladder removal or stones only.

As for me, while I believe I have turned the corner on these shingles, they still do rage and I still need much more sleep than normal and I forgot to take my pain meds to the hospital with me and my jacket too and it hasn't been easy and I damn near froze just walking through the parking lot (I dropped Margie right at the door so she did not have to face the wind) and this is enough for now.

I am getting tired of reporting on these little crisises - and that's what they are - little. They are not big. They are not life-shattering. She will get her surgery and she will be fine and these shingles will pass. So many people I know have been suffering much worse.

Still, as small as they are, bundled together they kind of makes it harder to move on to the next step - especially because all I want to do is to sleep, and one can't accomplish anything when one is asleep.

 

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment25 Comments |
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