My first love was tribal living. I loved playing 'cowboys and Indians' throughout the field and mountains of my back yard. All the neighborhood kids on my street were apart of this Indian tribe my brother's and I created. We got so into life as an Indian that everyone in the tribe had a name, job and position of status.
An average day in tribal life consisted of face painting, climbing trees, gathering food (from my mom's garden and wild blackberries in the mountains) and scouting for cowboys and then organizing war parties. My brother Anthony (Indian name: Red Cloud) and I were the ring leaders of this operation. We made being an Indian look so cool that nobody wanted to be a cowboy. Well, with the except of my little brother, Nick (Indian name: Crazy Horse or Sitting Bull -depending on his mood. Cowboy name: Traitor), who would occasionally get pissed off with his siblings and play 'cowboy' in the confines of his bedroom. My tribal name was, Teeweewahs. I made my mom promise me to stop using my real name and to call me by my Indian name, which she did and still does to this day. I began to regret that after turning 14, when I had to explain to my friends why my mom called me 'Teewee'. "T.P., what?" Yeah, not so cool anymore.
I don't remember when I began playing 'cowboys and Indians', but I do remember when I quit. It was shortly after Red Cloud was promoted to chief. Being my brother, in real life, I felt the chief in tribal life was... still my brother and I wasn't going to take his crap. Chief Red Cloud ordered me to make him an elaborate bead bracelet that included his name in the bead work. This would have taken me weeks to complete! All in all I wasn't having it, so I told 'Chief Red Cloud' to suck it and that's where my tribal days ended.
