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 Sarah Palin (24)

Saturday
Apr022011

I feel very lazy on this Wasilla spring day, so I will tell the truth, shun all lies and write about Sarah Palin's buick

It is springtime here in Wasilla and it is Saturday. I feel extremely lazy. I want to do nothing but lie around and be lazy - although I tried that last Sunday and it didn't work. Still, I am going to move slow here for awhile. I do have what to me is a very important task that I must complete today, but if I lollygag about and hit it as I feel like, I think I will complete that task by the time I go to bed tonight and it just might result in a book someday.

A book to make the reader fall in love and then break her heart. Or his heart. Male or female, it doesn't matter. If one has a heart, this book will make that heart love and then it will break that heart.

Anyway, yesterday, I took a morning walk. When I crossed the road in front of this school bus, the driver suddenly gunned it to about 90. He or she was determined to run me down. I sprinted for the edge of the road and barely dove out of the way.

I made it, all right, but the back fender of the bus caught the edge of my right shoe and ripped it off.

Now I am going to sue the school district for a new pair of shoes.

In fact, I think I'll go for cowboy boots.

I haven't worn cowboy boots in a long time.

I used to wear them all the time.

And a cowboy hat, too.

A Remington .357 six-shooter on my hip.

I was pretty dangerous.

I was tall, too.

Tall, dark, and handsome.

That's why Margie fell in love with me.

Then I ate a bad taco and wound up short and pale.

She still loves me, though.

So it's okay.

I will never stop eating tacos.

Just imagine this shadow wearing a cowboy hat and six shooter, and you will see what I mean.

In the afternoon, I drove to Carr's to pick up a muffin. Along the way I saw this kid enjoying spring in a melt puddle. Yeah - I know - the image is blurry. I don't care. You get the idea. Sometimes, for me, just the idea is good enough. Life is a blur, anyway.

I parked at Carr's and prepared to go in and get the muffin. I saw this man standing on the roof. When you see a man standing on the roof of Carr's, you know it's spring.

See how he has his hands in his pockets? That's because he's hiding bananas in those pockets. He will throw one of them at me, thinking that he will strike me in the head and knock me to ground, where I will get run over by Sarah Palin's Buick, which just happens to be rolling through the parking lot at this very moment.

That's another sure sign of spring in Wasilla - when you see Sarah Palin's Buick rolling through the parking lot. For decades now, it has been that way. "Look!" someone will say, "there's Sarah Palin's Buick, rolling through the parking lot. Must be spring."

This man did, in fact, hurl the banana at me, but I was quick. I caught it. I ate it. It went very well with the muffin.

 

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Sunday
Jan092011

I drive into the night, teeming with rage against the rage

"I am ready for real revolution and, if need be, I am ready to invoke the Second Amendment! And I know I'm not the only one..." - Josh Fryfogle, "Editor and Writer" of Make-A-Scene: The people's Paper, published monthly right here in this valley.

"Well, it's time to defend ourselves. And you know, I'm hoping that we're not getting to Second Amendment Remedies. I hope the vote will be the cure for the Harry Reid problems." Sharron Angle, whose campaign for US Senator in Nevada failed to "cure... the Harry Reid problem".

"I was willing to fight, kill or die for this country and for the ideals that it represents and that has not changed. I took an oath to defend the Constitution of the United States, it had no expiration on it. I remember taking that oath as a young soldier and it said that I would swear to defend the Constitution from all enemies, both foreign and domestic and I didn’t understand that domestic thing. Never in a million years did I realize that the domestic enemies would be our greatest threat and they would come from the highest levels of government in this country, from the highest positions. Today, for me, I have no eligible President in office, I have no qualified Commander-in Chief; that’s my personal opinion." - Rick, speaking at Wasilla Tea Party Rally.

"Don't retreat. Reload!" - Sarah Palin, after placing Arizona Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords in the crosshairs along with 19 other members of Congress she wanted to see voted out of office.

This list could go on and on... couple it also in your mind with images that I will not bother to link to of self-righteous, angry, people showing up at political rallies packing pistols and brandishing assault rifles.

Last night, I found myself driving through the darkness, the inside of my chest burning with rage - rage against the killings and woundings that had taken place in Arizona, rage against all the rage that has sunk America's political discourse to the lowest of levels these past few years, rage against the mentality that justifies the use of language such as I have quoted above and makes it seem not only acceptable to many but laudable, even patriotic, for them to make statements that in any way seem to legitimize violence against Americans who have disagreed with them at the ballot box.

Before I continue, I must stress that I am not among those who place the blame for yesterday's shooting upon Sarah Palin. The blame is on the shooter, and anyone else who may have been involved with him. I do not know the motives or politics of the shooter. For all I know, he could be out there on the left-wing fringe as easily as on the right. Yet, when the kind of mentality voiced above sinks deep enough into the public psyche, shots will be fired and they can come from any direction: left, right, straight ahead or from behind.

What I do know is that the shooter acted in the spirit of the above quotes.

Jerard Laughner readied himself for real revolution and took the kind of action implied by the statements, "I am ready to invoke the second amendment" and "Second Amendment remedies."

He killed and stood ready to be killed in an attempt to remove from office a politician that he did not see as legitimate despite the fact that other Americans had voted her in. Among those who he killed was a nine year old girl. By his action, in one moment, he erased all of her hopes, dreams and future; he took away all that she had ever been or ever would be.

A nine-year old girl.

He did not retreat. He reloaded.

Now, does this mean that I believe that any of the people that I have quoted above actually wanted what happened yesterday to happen? That I believe they approve of it?

No.

Does it mean that I feel that all those other many Americans of prominence and politics who have made similar statements or who have simply failed to take a stand against these kind of statements out of cowardly fear of alienating a base of one sort or another, actually wanted what happened yesterday to happen? That they approve of it?

No. I don't. In fact, I am quite certain that they did not. I believe those who now say that they are horrified and appalled by what happened yesterday mean it. I trust that their condolences to the bereaved are sincere.

Yet, what they did do, for their own cynical and self-serving reasons, was to foment and stir up the kind of feelings that ultimately make such actions almost inevitable. They wrapped themselves in the American Flag - MY FLAG - even as they undermined and demeaned the highest values of that flag. They sought to gain an immediate political or financial goal at the cost of the future of our nation.

I had more that I was going to write, but the anger in me still boils. I cannot trust my own words. I do not wish to add to the rage, yet perhaps that is what I am doing.

Tavra.

This is all I have to say.

 

"The way that she has it depicted has the crosshairs of a gun sight over our district, when people do that, they have got to realize there are consequences to that." - Arizona Congresswoman  Gabrielle Giffords

 

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Wednesday
Oct202010

Thos and Delaina's wedding day, part 3: We plunge in our forks in American Fork, where I experience the curse of the Wasilla traveler in the age of Palin

We left Rex's car at the Draper Temple and he rode with me south toward American Fork, the plan being that I would drop him off on the way back and he could then pick up his car. The wedding lunch was to be held at the Rodizio Grill. As has become my way, I did not bother asking anybody for directions, but just entered "current location" and "Rodizio Grill" into the Google map feature of my iPhone and it laid out the route for me.

That route ended at the freeway exit into American Fork, so I figured that once we got there, I would just pull off at the exit, zoom in on the iPhone map, spot the exact location of Rodizio's and drive right to it.

As we drew near, Rex said that I needed to take the Lehi exit, the one immediately before American Fork, and then go west. I chose to listen to my iPhone and continued on to the American Fork exit. As I did not know which direction Rodizio's was from the freeway, only that it had be very close, I took Rex's word and turned right, to the west. 

By the time we had traveled 100 yards away from the exit, it was obvious there was going to be nothing to the west, so I pulled over and took out my iPhone. Rex was insistent that I should have taken the earlier exit and then gone west from there.

So I did a new iPhone map from the spot where we were parked to Rodizio's and it drew out a half-mile route to a spot that appeared to be right on the freeway, right near the entrance for north bound traffic on the east side.

Rex still insisted that I should have taken the last exit and that we needed to go west. He said he had got his information from Mary Ann.

"But it shows it right here," I pointed to the map on my phone.

However, because it showed Rodizio's looking as though it sat right on the freeway near the entrance, a slight amount of doubt crept into me. What if the iPhone did not know where Rodizio's was, but had merely given me the route to the American Fork exit?

But this could not be... iPhones are smart! It had to know the location of Rodizio's!

Anyway, it showed me the route to that spot, I started to follow it and we reached this stoplight. Rex called Mary Ann for clarification. Just beyond, there was a fork in the road. One fork continued on the iPhone route, crossed over the freeway, then veered slightly north and came back to the spot where Rodizio's appeared to be right on the freeway. As the sparrow flies, we were maybe 300 to 400 yards away.

The other fork led back onto the freeway, going south, toward Las Vegas. 

The light turned green, I started out on the iPhone route, but Rex ordered me to turn right, onto the freeway ramp. And you know... he's the big brother. I did. As it turned out, the iPhone was right. There was road construction to the south and the next two exits were out of commission. 

It took us nearly 20 minutes to double back and return to the dot that appeared on the iPhone to be right on the freeway but which was, in fact, Rodizio's, sitting right alongside the freeway.

Never doubt your iPhone - not even when your big brother speaks.

See that mountain? That's Timpanogos, 11,749 feet. I climbed it once in the winter and slept on the side, in a snow cave. Nothing compared to Denali, but a nice little adventure, anyway.

About eight months after Jacob was born, Margie and I dropped him off at my parent's house in Sandy, then we drove to the north side of this mountain, which is forested and has glaciers near the top. Robert Redford's Sundance ski resort sits on the north slope of Timp, which was also the setting for much of his movie, Jeremiah Johnson.

We climbed to the top.

Coming back down, we reached a slide on the glacier. Margie took a seat at the top of the slide but looked at the steep slope below her and was afraid to go. She just sat there, immobile. So I gave her a little push on the back and down she slid, shrieking.

I plopped down and slid down behind her.

When I reached her, she was both shrieking and laughing, scolding me for pushing her, yet happy that she had made the slide. 

In Rodizio's, we found the bride and groom, not eating, but milling about, entertaining the guests.

I took a seat right beside Delaina's dad. "Where do you live?" he asked me.

"Wasilla, Alaska," I answered.

"No!" he shot back, in genuine disbelief. "No you don't!"

"Yes," I said. "I do."

"No you don't!"

"Yes," I held my ground. "I absolutely do."

"Oh. Well... you're good then."

And he never asked me another single question. It was as if the fact that I live in Wasilla told him all that he ever wanted to know about me.

When I travel Outside, I frequently find that many people peg me as soon as they learn where I live. Right wingers will often immediately embrace me as a soul brother. Upon hearing the word, "Wasilla," left wingers, who were friendly and open one minute before, will sometimes suddenly shy away, cease all conversation and want nothing more to do with me.

Folks...!!!! We who live in Wasilla are individuals. We do not all think alike. We do not all eat the same food. Some of us prefer coffee to tea and many don't drink either. We do not vote as a block. We don't all hang out together and we don't all worship Sarah Palin.

Some of us remember how life was before this odd phenomena that is her burst so irrationally upon America and we wish it could be that way again.

We want our Wasilla back!

He is a physical therapist. He got into the field as a student at BYU. He went on to work with the BYU football team and other athletic teams, which caused him to spend much time traveling. He spent many years in Texas.

Now he does his physical therapy on inmates at the Point of the Mountain Utah State Prison.

Occasionally, an inmate will get hostile. Every inmate that he works on is restained, usually either by hand or leg cuffs, depending on what part of the body needs therapy.

Now, I will just move quickly along. The food at Rodizio's... hey, it's not quite as good as Iñupiat and native food, but it is mighty fine and tasty. You start out at a salad bar that has about 30 selections, some of which could qualify as the main course, then guys like this keep coming by with skewers of everything from spicy chicken to spare ribs, to grilled pork and, as you can see, grilled pineapple.

That pineapple... whoa!

I want some more, right now!

Can't have it.

Maybe never again.

A once in a lifetime experience.

I bet they have it in Hawaii.

Even better there.

How can I get to Hawaii?

This is the turkey, wrapped in bacon. Rex has two pig valves in his heart and so does not eat anything wrapped in bacon.

I do, though, and it was... heavenly!

Mary Ann and her daughters are all vegetarian, and this place was good for them, too.

The intellectual banter was continuous.

Shaela and Delaina's mom.

More pineapple.

The thing was, each shaving of food was tiny, leaving the diner to always feel that he (or she) can take another.

So the diner eats and eats, all the time thinking that she has room for plenty more. And then, at the end, suddenly, the diner realizes she is stuffed beyond stuffed.

Or he realizes it. Because I am a he and at the end I was stuffed beyond stuffed.

I could hardly waddle back to the car.

The Rodizio Grill - a place where young people meet...

...and get to know each other.

The bride and groom, at the beginning of their life together.

The other men attached to my sister's daughters. That's Eric sitting by Amber. He is an adventurer, a mountain climber. He loves the Arctic and has scaled tall, icy, peaks that rise from Baffin Island in northeastern Canada.

The other fellow is Steven, Shaela's husband, who, like her, is making a career in the brutal film industry called Hollywood.

Shaela.

A hand upon the shoulder of a granddaughter.

You should know these two by now.

It is time to go. But before we do, Rex visits Tom and his mom.

My sister and her step-granddaughter.

I constructed this and part 4, the final wedding day post, before I went to bed last night, but I will give this a half-dozen or so hours to hang at the top of the list - to see how many extra hits are drawn in just because the word, "Palin," appears in the title.

It will be a bunch, I'm sure.

Update: After reading this, my niece Shaela posted a picture of me being blessed at the Indian temple at Shravanabelagola on her own blog.

 

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Wednesday
Mar032010

The mean dog, revisited; nice dog; two good cats; I step into the house to find Palin, Leno, Romney and Letterman drawing laughs on TV

This is the dog that I mentioned back in January; the one named Angel, the one whose woman says she is a real sweatheart who would bite no one, yet she has bitten me. I don't begrudge Angel; she thought she was doing a good thing and maybe she was.

As I stated in January, she is seldom out but when she is, it is always a memorable experience.

This is one of those nights when I simply do not have it in me to make a real post. So, since I had mentioned this dog recently, I went back into my archives and pulled her out. Perhaps some readers have seen Angel before, but it was a year-and-a-half ago when I originally put her in here and I didn't have very many readers then (as if I have  huge amounts now), so for those who have never met Angel before, I thought I would give you a treat.

Angel. The sweetheart.

Today, in the very same spot, I came upon this dog, who may possibly live in the same house with Angel. I am not certain. This dog is very friendly. It is the same dog that was carrying the stuffed turtle and almost got run over in front of me.

And here is Chicago and Royce, good cats both. When Chicago climbs on my lap or cuddles up alongside me and I put my hand on her, I feel healthy, warm, flesh beneath her fur. When I put my hands upon Royce or pick him up, I can feel the details of his bones.

He takes his medicine every day. His appetite remains good. He does not lack for energy.

I, however, do. 

So goodnight.

 

Wait! Wait! Not yet!

Immediately after I finished the above, I got up from my computer, left this office, stepped into the house and found Margie watching TV... The Tonight Show, with Jay Leno.

See? It's Margie watching Leno on TV - but who is that there with him...?

Why, It's my fellow Wasillan, Sarah Palin! 

I won't try to analyze this performance of Leno and Palin - there will be plenty of pundits and bloggers doing that. I will note that it was kind of a painful thing to watch and although I know Jay Leno is a gentle interviewer, his questions and comments seemed to have been written for him by Meg Stapleton - but no, she's not there anymore. So it must have been someone else.

And Palin did succeed in packing the audience with her people.

Going head to head with Leno and Palin was Letterman and Romney, who we watched during the commercial and then after Leno finished chatting with Palin.

The topic of health care came up and Romney said the way to go was not national, but that all 50 states should do as Massachusetts did when he was governor and create their own programs.

Letterman noted that among the world's nations, the US ranks somewhere way down in the low 30's in the quality of health care received by its citizens. Romney countered this by asking where the kings and queens of the world go when they are in bad need of health care? The US, he answered, as proof that this statement was false. He argued that we have the best health care in the world system.

Yes, if one is a king or a queen of a foreign country, then it is probably true the best health care they can get is in the US. The same is true for billionaires like Romney.

But how about some of us US citizens?

That care is not available to us, Mitt.

Kings and Queens, sure - but not us.

I may have more to say on this down the road a bit.

Thursday
Dec242009

Sarah Palin's Wasilla book signing: people in line, animal balloons, LaRouche disciple, Palin herself - a photo got, a photo not got

Being both cheap and in a bit of a tight spot, I had thought about trying to go in and take pictures without a book, but a book was the price of admission. There was one other possibility. When I entered Wasilla's Curtis D. Menard Sports Center, I found a sign posted on the door instructing all members of the media to go to a certain room to get their credentials.

For a brief moment, I thought about it. However, as explained in yesterday's post, based on some of the reports I had read from Lower 48 book signings, I feared that showing up with my professional-looking DSLR's might in itself prevent me from gaining access. So I had come instead with the new, tiny, Canon s90 pocket camera that my daughter Melanie and her boyfriend Charlie had given to me in a gift-wrapped package, with instructions to open immediately - just so that I would have it in time for this event.

So it made no sense to go to that press room and get the credentials that might well prevent me from getting a picture of her.

Plus, one way or another, I figure this is a book I should own and read. 

So I put it on a credit card. Tucked into the back was a coupon for a free coffee at Pandemonium Booksellers and Cafe - AND a free ticket to an Alaska Avalanche Jr. Hockey Game, PLUS another coupon for one free kids meal at the The Wild Olive - a new place that I have not yet tried. 

I will take advantage of all these things. I will blog about them.

I had determined that I would not come like a media person, but rather just as a regular citizen of Wasilla, coming to get an autograph of the lone, non-dog musher, celebrity of his town. I would just get my book, get in line and see what happened around me. I would not get in anyone's face with questions. I would put no one on the defensive. I would just mosey through the line, take no notes, but would snap a picture now and then, just as anyone with a pocket camera or a cell phone would be expected to do at such an event.

When I drove into the parking lot, I had noticed policemen sitting here and there in cars. All seemed to study me carefully as I passed by them. While scrutiny from a cop is always slightly unsettling, this was to be expected, given what a polarizing figure Sarah Palin has turned out to be, coupled with the tendency of individuals here and there in our society to act violently.

More police officers stood about inside. I walked up to this one. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to take a picture of you," I said, "I might as well catch the full flavor of this event."

"Okay," he said, as I framed him in the LCD of my tiny, tiny, new pocket camera. "Don't I know you?" he then added. "You look very familiar."

"I don't think we've ever met," I answered.

"You sure do look familiar, like I've met you before. I could almost swear I have."

"I can't ever remember meeting you," I answered. "But I get around a lot. You could have seen me somewhere."

"Maybe..." he said.

Actually, looking at his picture now, he does look a little familiar - but maybe that's just because I saw him very recently, at the book signing, when I took this picture. And the fact is, when you wander around Wasilla, everybody looks a little familiar, like you've seen them all somewhere before, because you probably have.

I then saw these two, sitting at the top of the bleachers: Ellen Lockyer, a reporter for the Alaska Public Radio Network and Al Grillo, the long-time Alaska photographer for the Associated Press. I used to bump into Ellen here and there in the 1980's, but since then I have come across her very rarely.

As for Al, I can't even remember how many times I have been somewhere in Alaska, maybe out on the Iditarod Trail, in Nome, Barrow, Fairbanks... anywhere... taking pictures and there he is, taking pictures too.

I am always glad to see him. Some photographers share a sense of comradery, and that is how it is with Al. I get a good feeling of friendship from him.

He is conservative in his political leanings; I lean left. But what the hell. When did all this bullshit that liberals must hang out only with liberals and conservatives only with conservatives set so firmly in?

I was shocked to learn that Al had been laid off by the Associated Press - on the same day that they laid off over 100 photographers throughout the country.

That's what this wonderful medium that I make this blog in is doing to my profession. Kicking it to pieces, even as it opens up ever more new and exciting avenues and possibilities.

Al was here freelance on behalf of the news photo agency Zuma.

He had driven out from Anchorage at his own risk. He would only be paid for pictures that Zuma would be able to sell. His challenge was big. The sports arena is a public building, but her party had rented space on the second level for her to sign her books. They were calling that a private area. No photographers were being allowed in the private area.

Al could shoot all he wanted down on the main floor where people stood in line by the hundreds, but he could not go up to the second level to photograph Palin.

So his plan was to stay until the end, and then get photos of her after she came down the stairs into the public area.

At the very beginning, just after Palin arrived but before I arrived, media photographers had been granted a brief window of minutes to shoot photos of Palin from a distance back, but that was it. I don't believe Al was present for that part.

I visited Al and Ellen for awhile and we talked about all the changes that have come to Alaska. Ellen said that the Alaska that we had all began our work in is dying, and, in some ways, might already be dead. This could also be said about the world of American journalism, as we had known it.

Reporting has largely been replaced by screaming; people have divided into their own camps, the voices they hear and listen to are proliferating by the millions, even as these voices funnel people through the talk radio, blogs, and cable "news" networks comfortable to their philosophy into ever more narrow channels of information and opinion.

Look at me and this blog. I'm part of the proliferation - albeit a more quiet part than most, lacking the influence to funnel anyone anywhere.

Finally, I said, "see you around," and went down and stepped to the back of the line. This young woman immediately stepped up to me with a petition that she wanted me to sign. 

"I'm not signing any petitions today," I told her. She took the news in good stride.

I got in line behind the woman at left, Margaret, who, upon seeing my camera, immediately asked me to take a picture of her. She has been living in Wasilla for many years now, but is thinking about moving to Anchorage. She likes the fact that Anchorage has good, well-cared for trails, parks, concert halls and such.

I shot a couple of frames. Then she noticed that everybody around her was carrying books, but she wasn't. "Do I have to have my book before I get in line?" she asked. She had thought there would be a sales table in the signing area. "Could you save my place?" she asked, then she dashed off to the Pandemonium books table to make a purchase.

She was gone for at least 15 minutes. When she finally returned with her copy of "Going Rogue," I showed her the pictures that I had taken of her on my LCD screen.

"Oh! I look like a Russian!" she said. This caused someone standing nearby to make the inevitable joke that you can see Russia from here, which put another person slightly on the defensive. That person emphasized that Sarah Palin had been right. that "you can see Russia from Alaska."

"Absolutely," I agreed. "I actually have - even through living room windows. I have looked out from Alaska and seen Russia."

"You have?" Margaret exclaimed, looking at me with wide eyes.

"Yes, from Little Diomede!"

"Little Diomede!" she gasped, clutching her heart. "Little Diomede! Oh, Little Diomede! I used to work in Nome, at the hospital. I met many people from Little Diomede - from all over the Bering Sea. I love all the places of the Bering Straits region."

This caused someone nearby to inject that he knew someone or had a relative who had been to Little Diomede and, sure enough, you can see Russia from there.

"Little Diomede is Russia!" Another authoratively piped up.

A bit later, Margaret decided that she needed a coffee. "Would you save my place again?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. She left. I never saw her again, even though I had more than an hour of standing in line still ahead of me.

I also told this lady that I was not signing petitions today, but she asked if she could tell me about the petition, anyway. It's an Alaskans for Parental Rights petition - meaning that signers seek a law change that would ensure that a minor daughter could not get an abortion without her parents consent. She said that right now, a 12 year-old girl would need parental consent to get any kind of medical care from a doctor, be it the flu, removal of a splinter, or whatever.

But not an abortion. If she got pregnant, that 12 year-old girl could go get an abortion without ever letting her parents know. That was what "Alaskans for Parental Rights" wants to change.

That's a pretty strong argument.

Yet, there is another argument to be made: What if the 12 year-old girl is pregnant because her father raped her, and now she must get his permission? What if that 12 year-old girl is so frightened of her parents concerning such matters that she would never seek their permission or let them know she is pregnant, but would instead seek out means more dangerous than a doctor's care to make certain they never found out?

This may look like people meandering about in a crowd, but everybody here is in one line - one, long, zigzagging line - the folks below in the public area, the folks above in the rented, private area - some walking beneath a quote accurately attributed to John Wooden.

And then this disciple of Lyndon LaRouche came along, moving up the line towards me, telling people that Obama's health care plan was identical to Adolph Hitler's in the 1930's, that Obama was taking us to the same place of annihilation and death that Hitler took the Nazis. 

To be certain, this was a pretty conservative crowd, but most of those in line ahead of me ignored him - some recoiled when he approached - but not all.

Although I had pledged to myself that I would be the dispassionate observer this day, my blood boiled when I saw the picture of Obama with the Photoshopped Hitler mustache, when I heard the hateful and false words that the man spoke.

He must have sensed this, because he approached everyone in line ahead of me, but very deliberately stepped around me to the next person behind, the one that he shows his literature to here.

This man listened, looked and accepted his literature. After the follower of Lyndon LaRouche moved on, the man behind me held the picture of Obama up in front of the lady who appeared to be his girlfriend.

"This is classic!" he said. "This is a real classic!"

Maybe 20 people up the line, I saw a young woman take his petition and sign it.

Stick with this post to the end, and you will get the response of one conservative to this man and his message.

I had been curious as to what the people in line would be saying about Sarah Palin, but the fact was, hardly anyone within conversation distance even mentioned her as we moved toward her.

They just talked about everyday stuff, like what year they moved to Alaska, the weather, dogs, sports...

The guy motioning to the kid selling books did make one brief mention of Sarah Palin. He said that he had known her before she became famous, that he had already read the book and that it was pretty good but that, in some cases, she stretched the truth.

He cited a passage that had something to do with her and Todd, going from one building to another in Palmer. In the book, he said, they cross the street - but both the building they left and the one they went to are on the same block, on the same side of the street, so they could not have crossed the street.

This guy came along, blowing up balloons, which he then gave to children. This balloon, however, is for a man to take home to his wife. The man specifically requested a pink poodle.

A little boy chooses his balloon.

The man carried a bottle of hand sanitizer with him. He sanitized his hands and then blew the balloon up with a pump as the little boy watched.

The little boy eagerly accepts his doggie-balloon.

I saw several people carrying books by the stack. The rule was that Sarah would sign no more than three per person.

This is Tyler, 19 years old, from Palmer. He was curious about my "Kivgiq 2009" baseball cap. I told him what Kivgiq was. He was very interested. He said he didn't know much about rural, Native, Alaska, but he would like to go out there and learn more.

He said he has a brother who is three-quarters Yup'ik and he wants to know more about what that means -about Yup'ik and other Alaska Native cultures. He hopes the people out there keep hunting, keep whaling; he thought it must be something special to witness. He spoke with pride of his father, who retired after a career in the Air Force. 

I thought of my own father, flying with his crew through flak and bullets in his B-24, dropping bombs on Hitler's infrastructure.

Tyler carried two books for Palin to sign - one for his mother, one for his grandmother.

I liked him; he impressed me as being intelligent and sincere. We exchanged emails today. He told me that his mom and grandmother loved the autographed books that he brought them.

Understand that the line was moving very fast. Each person had only seconds with Palin. The book signing had been scheduled to last from 11:00 to 2:00, but, according to the metadata, I took this picture at 2:09:18 PM. I had arrived at about 11:45 AM.

As Tyler stepped to the table, Palin asked, "what do you do in Wasilla?"

I figured she would ask me the same thing. I wondered what her reaction would be when I told her that I was a photographer?

Then, there she was, in my eyesight for the first time, ready to give me four or five seconds of her time.

As I have earlier recounted in this blog, during her time as Mayor, I was ambivalent toward her. My head and heart and often my body was out in Rural Alaska and I did not pay much attention to Wasilla politics. I live in the unincorporated part of Wasilla and, even though I pay the same sales taxes into the city as do those who live in the incorporated part, I cannot vote in Wasilla elections. Not yet, anyway. The current Mayor, Verne Rupright, is working to incorporate us.

I just didn't care about Wasilla politics. 

Even so, I did pick a few things about her. I learned that she was against any kind of rural or Native subsistence hunting and fishing preference, nor did she support the self-government rights of Native Alaska tribes.

When she ran for governor, I voted for Tony Knowles.

But then what at first seemed to be a very amazing thing began to happen. It seemed like she was going to be a good governor. She seemed to step away from the excesses and arrogance of the Murkowski administration, she challenged corruption in her own Republican party; she seemed to be making accomplishments where Murkowski had failed.

She seemed willing to reach across the partisan aisle - and actually worked better with Democrats in the Alaska Legislature then she did with Republicans.

I began to think maybe she would turn into a pretty good governor - as did 89 percent of Alaskans, according to an Ivan Moore Research poll done in May of 2007. A couple of warning lights popped up, like when she fired Public Safety Commissioner Walt Monegan, a man who I respected and who, by most accounts, was doing a good job, but who would not fire her former brother-in-law.

Then along came John McCain... Sarah Palin then stepped onto the national stage and immediately claimed to have told Congress, "thanks, but no thanks," to the "Bridge to Nowhere."

That simply wasn't true. It just kept getting worse. She began to accuse Obama of "palling around with terrorists" and did not reprimand those on fringe who, in response, rose up in hate - even to shout, "kill him!" In doing so, it seemed to me, she gave new license to the fringe, a certain respectability that they did not deserve, a respectability that no Republican who loves his party should accept. 

She divided America up into those who she said loved America and those who didn't.

I love America. With all my heart and soul, I love this country.

But in her words she placed me in that "Other America," the one that she claimed does not love it like the true patriots.

Then, after she and McCain lost, she appointed Wayne Anthony Ross to be Attorney General - a man who had stood against all the basic, fundamental, aboriginal rights of Alaska's first peoples. Alaska Natives took her on on that one and the Alaska Legislature denied her appointment. Ross had to go.

After she resigned, then came the "death panels." And me, facing the ever growing misery of paying Cadillac Premiums for a clunker insurance policy that has made it extremely difficult for me to get the health care that I thought I was buying into - that I need. This one was personal.

Now, as I placed my book in front of her, she looked at my hat and asked what Kivgiq was. I told her.

"Oh," she said. She signed my book.

I had two thoughts about the matter. First, she was obviously and understandably exhausted. Yet, she had been observant enough and sharp enough to pick up on what was on my hat. She had displayed the curiosity to ask what Kivgiq was.

But... why did she have to ask? She had been governor of the State of Alaska for two-and-a-half years and of all of Alaska, it is the Arctic Slope that has been far and away the most important generator of wealth and economy for this state. The Iñupiat are the People of the Arctic Slope and Kivgiq is the big Iñupiat celebration of dance and feast like no other. 

Frank Murkowski had danced at Kivgiq. Any governor of Alaska should know what Kivgiq is.

I had just enough time to get off this one snap with the pocket camera. I picked up my book and moved on.

I went down the stairs and found Al, sitting at a table, waiting for Palin to come down so that he could take some pictures of her. Al has been photographing Sarah Palin at least since 2002, when she made an unsuccessful bid for Lieutenant Governor. He covered her campaign for Governor and her Alaska activities during the 2008 Presidential campaign. He has several photos in her book. He flipped through my copy to show them to me.

As we visited, the Lyndon LaRouche disciple came by with his pamphlet. On the front, was a picture of LaRouche standing at a Podium, pointing a finger, and these words, "The People of the United States NO LONGER ACCEPT their President or Congress." On the back was the photo of President Obama with the Hitler mustache photoshopped onto his lip.

"This is wrong," Al told the LaRouche disciple. "I don't like Obama, but it is wrong to say he is a Hitler. It makes me angry, just as it made me angry when people called President Bush Hitler." He pointed out that Hitler murdered six million jews and caused the deaths of many tens of millions of people more.

People who spout such nonsense unfairly "give conservatives a bad name," Al said, as the man left.

Al pointed out a photo that he took of the Palins with their daughters, Bristol and Piper.

By now, the line had grown short. Al badly wanted to go up and take his photos. No other members of the media were left. So Al went to the stairs to see if he could go up, but the guard denied him. He would just have to wait for her to come down the stairs.

Gradually, it grew quiet. Above us, we could see only a handful of people in the area where her signing table had been. Al checked again. Sarah Palin was gone. She had left by a route that did not take her past us. 

So we left - Al to drive back to Anchorage without getting any picture that he needed to pay for his gas and his time; me, to Taco Bell because I had grown very hungry.

If I were to turn right at the light ahead, I would be on Knik Road. If I were to turn left, I could drive the three block-length of Main Street and then I would be on Fishhook.

As I waited in the line of the Taco Bell drive-through, I saw the moon, almost to first quarter. I rolled down the window, reached out with my other pocket camera, the Canon G10, framed the scene in the LCD and snapped this picture.