If you read my books, you know my father-in-law and the founder of the New Seminole Busimanolotome Osceola was a Baby Boomer and loved the Broadway "Tribal Rock" musical Hair. In fact he named his daughter after one of the writers-- and had me believing for a very long time that Jerryragni met "Hair" in Muskogee (yes, he was a great "kidder"). His favorite song was part of a group of songs that are heard in the finale. It's called "The Flesh Failures" and summed up for him what was wrong with America. Plus, you could dance to it in the swamp which was very important to him and us. We did it many times between giant cypress trees, looking for the most part just like those who performed it on stage since we were and are a cockamamie collection of hippies and Seminoles. Here are the lyrics:

We starve-look at one another
Short of breath
Walking proudly in our winter coats
Wearing smells from laboratories
Facing a dying nation
Of moving paper fantasy
Listening for the new told lies
With supreme visions of lonely tunes

Somewhere inside something
There is a rush of 
Greatness, who knows what stands in front of
Our lives? I fashion my future
On films in space
Silence tells me secretly
Everything
Everything

The song then segues into the upbeat hit song  Let the Sunshine In. Here's a version by Jennifer Warnes I've been listening too lately. Enjoy on this Earth Day. Make Earth Day Every Day. 

From a kid's  taunting rhyme to Whitman's sublime choice of words to describe his life in the world. All of that came rushing back to me when I saw that picture above, reminding me of my time with Nokosee up in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g (and other things-- and if you read my books, you know what I'm talking about). The picture-- from a recent post on Brain Pickings-- spoke to me of that wonderful, unforgettable time Nokosee and I lived in the Everglades. At first, as a city girl, the silence-- aside from the mosquitoes-- was the hardest thing to get used to. I had doubts about making it in what I use to think of as "bumfuck nowhere." That all changed after I saw the stars above me for the first time without any interference from city lights. Until that moment when I was up in a gumbo limbo with Nokosee and looked up at his insistence, I had no idea what was going on above me and what I had been missing all my life. It was a wildly thrown veil of stars across the night sky.  That picture above by Margaret C. Cook from a 1913 edition of Leaves of Grass brought all the magic back because that is truly how I felt in Nokosee's arms: taken away as if on a cloud. 

As for that childish rhyme, it all came true except for the last part: our baby Haalie came in a bithlo.

I love Pow Wow dancing. And I know it's a spiritual thing for Native American tribes which is cool. But the New Seminole do it because it's fun. Especially once a year at Ultra Fest in downtown Miami. There was a time however when I danced with Nokosee many times under a full moon in the deep Everglades at one of our secret hammock camps. Camp Disco had its own disco ball and if you've read any of my books you know how we got electricity to power it, the lights, and the music.  Ah, those were the days and nights.

That picture of me and Nokosee was taken on our wedding night at Camp Disco. 

"More than 50 state bills that would criminalize protest, deter political participation, and curtail freedom of association have been introduced across the country in the past two years. These bills are a direct reaction from politicians and corporations to the tactics of some of the most effective protesters in recent history, including Black Lives Matter and the water protectors challenging construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline at Standing Rock.                                                                                                                                                                               
If they succeed, these legislative moves will suppress dissent and undercut marginalized groups voicing concerns that disrupt current power dynamics.
Efforts vary from state to state, but they have one thing in common: they would punish public participation and mischaracterize advocacy protected by the First Amendment."

​Some of these bills want to impose criminal penalties and devastating fines simply for offering food or housing to protestors. For instance, a bill currently being considered in Wyoming would impose a $1 million penalty on any person or organization that “encourages” certain forms of environmental protest. Legislation introduced in Tennessee, Florida, North Carolina, and North Dakota would have allowed drivers to hit protesters with cars without criminal repercussions.

Legislation is not the only tool the oil and gas industry is deploying in its effort to silence opposition. Six months ago, Energy Transfer Partners filed a $900 million dollar lawsuit against several environmental groups, including Greenpeace, alleging that a “criminal enterprise” was put in place to stop the pipeline project.
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Similarly, 84 members of Congress sent a bipartisan letter to the Department of Justice earlier this fall, asking officials to prosecute pipeline activists as “terrorists” — a troubling policy that resembles the one being lobbied for at a federal level by the American Petroleum Institute.

When did America become a "government of the corporation, by the corporation and for the corporation"? 

In my books I mention when the Miccosukees had legendary lawyer Morton Silver fighting their case to be recognized as a sovereign nation but the U.S. wasn't interested. So Silver threatened to take the case to the UN and the World Court. Still nothing from Uncle Sam. But when he and some Miccosukee delegates had the audacity to meet in 1959 with the new Cuban leader Fidel Castro re recognition of their sovereignty-- and got it!-- Uncle Sam "saw the light" so to speak and bestowed sovereignty on the tribe (hence giving me the chance to take Sanctuary at its Miami Embassy). 

​But my tribe the New Seminole doesn't have a silver tongued and muy clever Morton Silver representing us. We're on our own, using weapons of a different kind to protect us and our children. To paraphrase a piece of American history that has been long forgotten re the new bills introduced to usurp our basic freedoms, "don't try that shit with me?" I'm New Seminole and we won't stand for it. 

To read more, please click here.

Listen up and then warrior up for Autumn Peltier, a 13-year-old from Manitoulin Island, Ontario, Canada. She told world leaders yesterday to "warrior up" and start protecting our waters in a World Water Day speech at the UN General Assembly. "Many people don't think water is alive or has a spirit," the Anishinaabe girl from Wikwemikong First Nation told the diplomats gathered in New York City in her speech on World Water Day. "My people believe this to be true. Our water deserves to be treated as human with human rights. We need to acknowledge our waters with personhood so we can protect our waters."

The five-foot tall teen stood on a stool behind the podium so she could reach the microphone-- but her spirit needed no stool to be seen and heard. Gotta love her. I hope to be as wise and brave as Autumn. 

I woke up this morning in the Miccosukee Embassy where I'm doing Sanctuary to discover the tribe may be behind a babynapping. Apparently a high ranking tribal grandmother got tribal police to leave the rez, drive 32 miles to Miami and snatch the newborn baby of Rebecca Sanders, a Miccosukee, and her white boyfriend Justin Johnson, while she and her baby Ingrid Ronan Johnson were still in the hospital following her birth March 16th. According to the Miami Herald, the parents have "filed complaints with Miami-Dade police, state prosecutors and the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs" alleging that the "tribal court order was a sham, concocted by the baby’s vengeful maternal grandmother, Betty Osceola, who simply did not want a white father to be a part of the child’s life."

​This brought back memories of my daughter Haalie's birth (Book Two). It was a moonless night deep in the Everglades. Nokosee and I were on the run from Army Rangers who were trying to kill us. With the help of Nokosee's father Busimanolotome (Busi) Osceola who helped us escape-- and died for it-- I gave birth in a bithlo (a dugout canoe) hidden among the sawgrass with the sound of the firefight going on in the background. I will never forget looking up into the black night sky from the wet bottom of the bithlo as I screamed to push Haalie out. It was glowing red from the distant fires that were burning down our secret hammock hideout.

Although I'm an Osceola by marriage to Nokosee, Betty Osceola is not Nokosee's grandmother. Almost everyone in the Miccosukee or Seminole tribes is an Osceola. That said, if you read my books, you know that my getting accepted into the tribe by marriage was a major undertaking that included a prequel Busi dreamed up-- like the New Seminole-- he called a "Walkabout" in the Everglades that would prove my worthiness. I call it an Everglades Death March which left me abandoned, starving, bleeding, mosquito bit across every part of my body, and naked-- all because Busi didn't want to have anything to do with me. So, if what they said about Betty Osceola is true, that she didn't want her granddaughter to marry a white man, I can relate.  Although Busi never said it outright, I'm pretty sure he wanted Nokosee to marry within the tribe-- which is nuts when you consider Nokosee's mom is Cuban. She once was Demaris Rodriguez before she met Busi at Hialeah High where they were both students. But then again, Nokosee is the "First of the New Seminole" so I suspect the old man was hoping to start the new tribe off with a pure bred. Anyway, it's not like intermarriage between the tribes and "Outsiders" is rare. It's been going on for years with white and blacks so when I read this news today, I had to wonder what this is really all about. I suspect there is more than one side to this story.  But in any event, you don't snatch newborns from their mother's arms no matter what the reason. ​

​UpDate (3/22): The Miccosukee Tribal Court has ruled baby Ingrid must be returned to her mother and father. 

In a recent story on the PBS News Hour by Courtney Norris about Hollywood taking a new interest in tales from and about today's Indigenous Americans, I was reminded about a story Micco Busemanolotome Osceola, founder of the New Seminole, loved to tell over and over again about Apache actress Sacheen Littlefeather. Way back in 1973, Littlefeather became world famous for not accepting Marlon Brando's Oscar® as Best Actor for his portrayal of Don Corleone in The Godfather. When I told Busi I had never heard of her, he whipped out a military sat phone and like a kid who couldn't wait to show us something, proceeded to play a YouTube video for Nokosee and me in a hidden chickee deep in the Everglades. Her brave speech got boos (and later industry blacklisting of her) but she still touches the heart today with her carefully chosen words and quiet nonconfrontational demeanor. I hope someday if I live long enough that I'll become just like her, that I'll have that same pacific, graceful personality. 

If you read my books you know I'm a Doc Martens fan from way back. I even wore a gold lame pair in the Everglades when I was on the run with Nokosee and the New Seminoles. So when I saw this FB post from Style Insider, it brought back fond memories-- and a longing to be free to stroll into that LA store and buy a pair again. But since I's doing Sanctuary at the Miccosukee Embassy that won't be happening so if anybody out there wants to do me a solid, I'm a 7½ , love polka dots and sparkly stuff but I'm kinda digging those "weaponized" Docs...

The Alt National Park Service is the "official resistance team for the U.S. National Parks Services." It was "formed in response to the new administration, who has shown little mercy for the environment." Comprised of over "1.8 million individuals from around the globe," it gives Nokosee and me hope. 

It's good to be the Queen.

Even if it's for a day. Or in my case, for a few hours.

My big shot at being Queen of the Everglades came when we were on the run from Uncle Sam. Our Chief Busimanolotome Osceola-- founder of the New Seminole and my soon-to-be-father-in-law-- had left his son Nokosee in charge until he got back from doing some secret shit he wouldn't tell anyone about. It was Nokosee's job to make sure no one spotted us while daddy was away. To do that, Nokosee had us moving from one hammock hideout to another during the night. We stayed under camo covering the hammocks during the day. One day Nokosee took us to a hammock deep in the Everglades that had more than a stash of provisions and weapons. It also had a chickee throne room (see picture).
​
I couldn't believe it. I knew Busi was certifiable because of his behavior (read my books) but this proved it.

Nokosee tried to explain the throne as an example of his dad's sense of humor (something I still hadn't seen at that time). Said the NS found it one night during a routine Alligator Alley hijacking. A tractor trailer was hauling scenery for some opera across the state when it had an “interrupted journey.” These IJs replenished the basic needs of the tribe, from food to “material” as Busi liked to say. He had it hauled out on an airboat to the middle of bumfuck nowhere and placed under a chickee. It's there he would “hold court” and listen to “his peoples'” complaints, suggestions, and wants. Oh, and if he was joking about some of this stuff, he was serious about one thing: no one could sit in his throne. Not even Nokosee. So, of course, when I heard this, I had to try it out.

First off, the Micco (Chief) should assign someone the job of keeping it clean and free of spider webs. It was filthy and covered with small Florida Brown Recluse spiders who can bite and cause a great deal of pain and suffering if not kill you outright.


Secondly, the seat of power needs some cushioning. After about an hour reading a book, my ass was numb.

When Nokosee found me he got all bent out of shape because he thought daddy would go ballistic and he didn't want that to happen since the “Great Chief of the New Seminole” and I were at war: it was his way or the highway, an Alpha Male butting heads with my own. BTW, that picture was taken by Nokosee on my smartphone. It caught me during my, as Busi liked to remind me, “Redbird” period. He had no problem letting me know he thought I looked like a “damn fool” and that “that much color in the Everglades will get you killed.” Started calling me “Target.”

“Hey, Target, for the sake of us all, please step behind that tree.”

“Oh, Redbird, would you mind flying someplace else?”

What a kidder.

Of course, I could dish it right back at him. My go-to-plan to make him even crazier was my reimagining of “counting coup,” that Plains Indians thing of sneaking up on your enemies and touching them before running away. No one gets killed but the enemy learns his enemy carries big balls beneath his loincloth (and might be loonier than you). My version was me sneaking up on Busi and standing behind him. That's it. No touching involved. Seeing him jump when he saw me in all my red glory and the laughter it brought to the NS and myself made it all worth while. Plus, it made me a great stalker. That came in handy in Book Two when I snuck up stark naked on an AK-47 carrying NS sentry after the tribe had thrown me into the wilderness (where I lost my clothes) with nothing but a compass to find my way back. They called it a “Walkabout” that would determine my worthiness but for all intents and purposes, it was mom and dad Osceola's evil plan to break me, to make me go running back to civilization where the A/C was always on.

Anyway, someone in the NS must have seen me and Nokosee getting it on on the throne-- hey, we were and still are horny in love-- and snitched on us to the Micco. Of course, he went ballistic as is his wont and, as is mine, I told him to “get real and stop pretending you're a fucking king.” That stunned Busi and the NS-- they didn't know where to look. As the Chief of the New Seminole's eyelids blinked uncontrollably while staring down at me, grasping for something to say and failing to come up with anything worthy of a kingly rejoinder, I grabbed Nokosee's hand and led him triumphantly away into the hammock jungle. Within a few seconds of ditching that ugly scene, we heard Busi scream: “You besmirched my throne! You are not worthy of my son!”

I stopped and looked up at Nokosee, giving him a look that expected an overwhelming declaration of his love for the woman holding his hand and the mother of his child-- something I still hadn't told him about (I couldn't find the right time what with all the chasing and running and shooting). He turned away and paused, thinking I'm sure, what could he possibly say to the King of the Everglades that wouldn't hurt his feelings? I squeezed his hand hard to help him come up with something. This is what he said:

“Wrong!” he shouted into the trees. “She's the best thing that ever happened to me! And I'm going to marry her!”

Well, I'd be lying if I told you that didn't catch me by surprise. It was my turn now for my eyelids to flutter uncontrollably-- and for tears to flood my eyes. That moment seemed like an eternity in a jungle that had been shut down of all sounds. Not even the insects were chirping. But it was only my imagination because an ungodly shriek was breaking through the seconds of silence. It was Nokosee's mom. Yeah, she didn't like me either (read the books).

Anyway, once I get sprung from the Miccosukee Embassy where I am doing Sanctuary, I hope to return with Nokosee-- and now our baby girl Haalie-- to that stage prop Busi once called a throne deep in the Everglades; to sit in it as a family and to tell Haalie some amazing and loving stories about the grandfather she'll never meet.