When I was still Stormy Jones.
If you read my first book you know those are the first words that came out of my dad's mouth when he saw me standing in Concourse D at MIA. Summer was just beginning, I was 17 and just graduated from Milltown High (a place I hated with a passion!) and, thanks to a divorce court judge, going to spend my 7th summer vacation with my dad, a proud ex-Marine but always unapologetic hardass and Chief Ranger of Everglades National Park. I had flown in from New Jersey and thought I'd wear what I and my mom thought was a way cool outfit (as you can see above). Mom took the picture and brought it down with her when she visited me and Haalie a few weeks ago. I had forgotten about it (the picture, not the outfit which I still think is adorable!). I had just come down the stairs with my suitcase and wasn't in any mood for pictures since the idea of sojourning with my dad in the heat and humidity and mosquitoes not to mention the Everglades fires (I swear it seemed like the damn place was always on fire when I was down there!) was not something I was looking forward to-- especially since it separated me from my boyfriend (a guy now I can't believe I ever dated! Ugh! What a creep!). Anyway, this is the last time my Mo was standing upright. When dad uttered those cold, hard, unforgettable words to me, my Pink Badge of Courage had already wilted in the humidity inside the airport.
"Yeah, I'm a freakin' flamingo."
That was me. You don't mess with a Jersey girl "with a chip on her shoulder."
Anyway, my Mo, like me, was crestfallen and dad and I hardly spoke on our way back to the Everglades in an open-windowed Humvee (it had AC but he refused to turn it on, telling me to get use to it). Upon circling over the Everglades to land at MIA, I looked out the window to see if it was on fire. It was but now I could SMELL the gray smoke and FEEL the white soot as it rushed through the open window and attached itself to my body, sticking to my sweaty skin, covering me, my to-die-for outfit, and my Mo with "Everglades Snow." My eyes were burning and it took all my willpower not to cough in the presence of the head banging jarhead driving hell bent for leather into the fire and smoke to Judas Priest on the radio.
"Yeah, I'm a freakin' flamingo."
That was me. You don't mess with a Jersey girl "with a chip on her shoulder."
Anyway, my Mo, like me, was crestfallen and dad and I hardly spoke on our way back to the Everglades in an open-windowed Humvee (it had AC but he refused to turn it on, telling me to get use to it). Upon circling over the Everglades to land at MIA, I looked out the window to see if it was on fire. It was but now I could SMELL the gray smoke and FEEL the white soot as it rushed through the open window and attached itself to my body, sticking to my sweaty skin, covering me, my to-die-for outfit, and my Mo with "Everglades Snow." My eyes were burning and it took all my willpower not to cough in the presence of the head banging jarhead driving hell bent for leather into the fire and smoke to Judas Priest on the radio.
Anyway, who knew it would take getting lost in an Everglades fire to meet Nokosee, the First of the New Seminole, a 17-year-old just like me, but on a mission to return South Florida (and now the State) to its rightful caretakers, the New Seminole? Who knew I would run away with him and his Cause? Who knew we would have a baby together, a girl called Haalapatee (Haalie)? Or that I would be doing Sanctuary at the Miccosukee Embassy, separated from him for years following our devastating losses with Uncle Sam's Army Rangers at Rendezvous Point deep in the Everglades?
Yeah. Who knew?
Yeah. Who knew?
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