Бывший школьный суперинтендант Билл Хилл баллотируется в Конгресс от независимых кандидатов

There is a specific kind of quiet that falls over a workshop when the work being done is heavy, both in weight and in heart. A dozen or so summers ago, I found myself in the middle of that quiet inside Alvin Amason’s art studio. Around us, the walls and tables were lined with this famous Alaskan artist’s bold, brilliant creations — vibrant pieces of our state’s soul captured in paint. But in the center of the room, the focus wasn’t on canvas or carvings. All the attention centered on a simple stack of lumber. I’d delivered the wood in a gesture to my sister’s husband and his brothers. They gathered there in Alvin’s workshop to build a coffin for their father, Pete Hill. Their dad, after all, had been the quintessential do-everything Alaskan. He was a Vietnam War veteran who served his country, a commercial fisherman who knew the rivers, lakes and bay like family, a skilled subsistence provider, an educator, a vital culture bearer and a beloved village elder. While his last name was Hill, he carried more than a mountain of history, wisdom and grit in his bones. So much of this knowledge and more he passed along to his daughter and five sons. What I learned that day, working alongside these brothers, is that when a man like Pete Hill passes, you don’t just choose a casket out of a catalog. You build his final resting place with your own hands and stain it with your sweat and tears. While most of us who live in the city can choose from the local funeral home’s inventory of polished metal and velvet, off the road system here in our state, you do it yourself. You gather the wood, you pick up the tools and you put to use what is available. I’m no stranger to death and grief, and I’ve helped dig graves in permafrost — an effort I can tell you feels like an impossible task — but up until that day, I’d never witnessed or participated in the creation of a coffin. I watched and held boards while these skilled brothers worked together with reverence and respect for each board, for each other and for the heart-tugging task at hand. They stepped up to the unfinished planks without drawn-out plans, and they didn’t utilize or require Alvin’s tape measures. Instead, like their ancestors who built kayaks in a similar fashion, they used their own bodies to measure the length, height and width, lying down on the wood, mapping out the final resting place for their father with their own shoulders, arms and stature. That is the reality of our Alaskan lives. It is raw and requires a hands-on approach, and life asks you to put your entire physical self into the things that matter most. That day, I participated in a beautiful, heartbreaking act of love, family and culture. In that studio of Alvin’s, the Hill brothers weren’t simply putting a beautifully crafted box of boards together; they were honoring their Dena’ina heritage, paying respect to the father, land and culture that raised them and lifting up their community by doing the hard and necessary work. So, the Bill Hill running to represent Alaska as our next U.S. congressman comes from this family. Not a political family or a rich business family with Outside connections and ties to industry, much less one that wears or owns a suit and tie. Bill comes from two loving parents who were teachers and raised the kind of family that consciously makes the choice to build their father’s coffin by hand. Bill is the eldest of those five brothers, and he’s an Alaskan who knows what hard work means because he lives that life daily. He doesn’t spew out talking points about our life from afar, from a perspective of having lived only in one of our state’s bigger cities, a life disconnected from the harsh truths too many in Alaska face. Bill knows the real Alaska because he grew up in the village of Kokhanok on Iliamna Lake, harvesting and living off food from the land. He’s been commercial fishing on a drift boat in Bristol Bay since he was a kid, working construction and spending decades as a teacher and school superintendent in our communities. Bill understands the resilience it takes to survive here, and more importantly, he knows and understands the challenges ahead of us and isn’t afraid to step forward and lead for the benefit of our communities. From what I know of Bill, he’s like his father. Smart. Strong. Steady. Fair. Beloved by friends, family and his community. He is running as an independent because he knows our loyalty belongs only to our communities and our families, not to national party bosses. He knows how to listen, how to build coalitions and how to represent the diverse voices of this state — from the fishermen of the coast to the students in the classrooms of our rural villages. I also know that if I needed him, if disaster struck my life, he’d be there, whether that was to help build a cabin, boat or even my casket. We need a leader who will carry those sacred values I witnessed in Alvin Amason’s art studio straight into the halls of Congress. Someone who knows how to build from scratch. Someone who respects the deep cultural heritage across Alaska. A guy with calloused hands and a warm heart who isn’t afraid to step up, do the tough work and represent us all. Bill Hill is that leader. He has my vote, and I believe if you give him a chance, he’ll earn yours, too. Let’s send a strong Alaskan to represent us in Washington. Don Rearden is the author of the novel “The Raven’s Gift.” He lives and writes in Anchorage. 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