Viktor Frankl was an Austrian neurologist and psychiatrist as well as a Holocaust survivor. Billy Jack was a fictional movie character, a half-breed with a way cool hat and deadly martial arts skills. I thought about the movie when reading this quote by Frankl on a slow day at the Miccosukee Embassy where I'm seeking "Sanctuary" from the U.S. Billy went out like that, his way, through a crowd of kids he was trying to protect from the local bigots. He was in handcuffs, being led away by an Arizona sheriff. As he walked towards the police car, the kids stood and raised their fists in support. Of course Billy had a soundtrack that helped elevate the moment and the movie into cult status, but as a standalone gesture, the defiant raised fist is about as American as you can get and has, in fact, become part of the New Seminole logo, albeit with a tomahawk in its hand.
The movie was released in 1971, over twenty years before I was born. The first time I saw it I was 18-years-old on "Movie Night" deep in the Everglades in a chickee with my new husband Nokosee Osceola and his family. It's the first time I saw Busimanolotomee Osceola, my hardass, monosyllabic father-in-law and founder of the New Seminole, cry. I don't know if he ever read Frankl, but I do know he had surprisingly eclectic tastes in reading so I wouldn't be surprised if he did. I do know he loved Billy Jack,* having taken on his persona more than once in front of me by quoting and behaving like him. I also suspect he raised Nokosee, the "First of the New Seminole," to be a living, breathing karate-kicking Billy Jack. Unfortunately, Busi, as I came to call him affectionately, didn't get a grand sendoff like Billy did. (Spoiler Alert: Stop here if you haven't read Book Two). He died before my eyes, a gruesome death shared by only him and me. I will never forget it. I was pregnant, about to give birth when Army Rangers attacked us on a moonless night deep in the Everglades. We put up a good fight but a bunch of ragtag renegades-on-the-run aren't no match for overwhelming professional soldiers and their Blackhawk helicopters. Nokosee and I split up after I got shot. He tried to divert enemy fire while his father carried me through the Everglades jungle, bullets whizzing by all around us. They won that night but Nokosee and I were able to find each other and escape. And Hallie, our baby girl, was born moments later hidden among the sawgrass.
The other thing I will never forget is the last thing Busi said to me, his last words ever: “Ooshtayke...” Daughter.
*Click here for a unique look at Billy Jack's creator, Tom Laughlin. Apparently he isn't much different than Busi Osceola.
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