And then I think of J.T. Osceola, the once mighty chairman of the Seminole tribe who had it all-- at least as perceived by the Outside. He did his best to live with one foot in the Outside and with one in the Inside (the wild Everglades and tribal traditions). But in the end his lust for one needful thing-- his custom chopper motorcycle-- killed him.
As I have learned living-- and running -- with the New Seminole, it's not an easy balancing act. As one of my favorite authors Ken Kesey said, "You're either on the bus or not on the bus." This is the same thing my Micco Busimanolotome Osceola told me more than once, that "little girl" (he was an unapologetic sexist bastard but I loved him anyway) you're going to have to choose one over the other. I chose to be with Nokosee, Micco's only son, the "First of the New Seminole" and that meant living in the past and on the run like Geronimo's Apache's did in the late 1800s, running from the U.S. Calvary and the specter of having their freedom stolen from them, of being forced to live on a rez, out-gunned and close to hopelessness.
*The pix was taken on a slow day in an Everglades hammock over a bonding moment between me and my new sister-in-law, 14-year-old Gerryragni Osceola. We were listening to the Blonds' "Run" (below) at the time. It seemed so apropos since we were on the run from Army Rangers. Unfortunately the music and this escapist moment didn't make us feel any better.