“It’s time for bed, girls,” Chich said, helping us move our stash of goodies into the kitchen. She then removed our yarn wigs and took a warm wet cloth to our faces to remove our makeup. Then she sent us off to have a bath. After we had washed away any physical reminders of the day, Chich took time with each of us, drying and combing our hair.
I felt better, but sleep did not come easy. My mind kept seeing egg yolk hanging off Keith’s hat along with Addie and Peewee crying their eyes out. I didn’t understand everything that happened. But I knew two things. I would apologize to Keith and his family the next day. And this was the first and last time we’d ever celebrate Halloween.
18 An Indian Like Tonto
November brought its own mix of good and bad to our lives on 58th Place.
First, Daddy graduated from his technical school and got two diplomas in the mail. He received the highest marks in his class, just like he’d said he would, making him the top pick for companies hiring.
Tele-Autograph, a very large electronics firm, recruited him after graduation. The company designed mechanical writing equipment that could send people’s signatures from one office to another. According to Daddy, it was revolutionary stuff.
“I’ll be making good money, more than we ever had before.” Daddy beamed. Mama had saved enough money from the government’s allotment to buy him two pairs of black trousers, three white long-sleeved button-down shirts, and one thin black tie at the J.C. Penney’s down on Rosecrans Avenue.
That must be why we had eaten so much fried baloney.
On his first day at work, Daddy stepped out in his new outfit — way spiffier than his logging clothes back home.
“You look very handsome,” Mama said, handing him a cup of black coffee, which he accepted. Then he snuck a kiss.
“Proud of you, tɘnɘs-man,” Chich said.
I wanted to say something too. “You look just like an Indian agent.”
Daddy laughed. “Well, I hope I do a better job at helping folks than they ever did.” He hugged Peewee and me before we headed out to meet everyone and walk to school. Daddy still caught the No. 5 bus to Westchester to get to his new job.
As our group walked home from school that afternoon, Keith walked fast, saying he didn’t want to miss The Lone Ranger. “Let me ask my mom if you can come over and watch it.”
“That’d be great. I’ve never seen it.”
“What? How?”
“We don’t have a television,” I whispered, so the other kids wouldn’t hear me. “You’ve been to my house, remember?”
“But you didn’t even have one back home?”
“No, never.”
There. I confessed. We hardly ever had anything anyone here did. Back on the rez, there was no need for a TV. We spent time outside, and during bad weather, we drew, read, or played games inside.
When we got to our street, Keith ran inside to ask Miss Elsie. She said both Peewee and I were invited to watch an episode and stay for dinner. Mama agreed to let us go.
Dinner consisted of pot roast, mashed potatoes, and something called greens. It smelled sort of like the cooked spinach they served at school, but Keith assured me it wasn’t. They said a prayer before the meal, but it wasn’t the Catholic one we said over meals. And it was longer than what I was used to, thanking the Lord for about everything that happened that day.
After dinner, Miss Elsie served dessert in the living room. Us kids sat on the floor behind the coffee table. Mr. Bates walked over to the television set, turned the knob on, and adjusted the antenna on top until the black-and-white picture cleared up.
Trumpets blared, and fast-paced music played from the TV, which was showing a white cowboy in a black mask riding a pure white horse. Then a voice declared:
With his faithful Indian companion Tonto, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early western United States . . .
Next a real Indian appeared, not some white actor with fake black braids and painted skin like Daddy said played most Indian parts in Hollywood. Tonto wore a fringed shirt and pants, which swayed with each footstep. Leather moccasins covered his feet. He had a thin leather strap tied around his forehead. And he owned a horse, Scout, a gorgeous paint pony. The actor’s name, Jay Silverheels, appeared on the screen. Mr. Bates said he read in an interview with Jay Silverheels that he came from the Mohawk tribe.
I hadn’t heard of that one, but I was in love!
In this episode, the Lone Ranger and Tonto entered an Indian reservation where everyone owned horses. Even the young Indian boys!
Then I noticed the white actors spoke perfect English. However, the Indians, including Tonto, spoke broken English. No way had I ever heard any Indian talk like that. It sounded weird. But Tonto was still my hero!
“I can see why you like this show so much,” I told Keith after it ended.
Peewee and I thanked Miss Elsie and Mr. Bates before returning our plates and cups to the kitchen. We raced across the street and flew through the front door.
Daddy and Mama sat on the couch. Daddy lowered the newspaper as Mama looked up from a murder mystery she had checked out at the John Muir Library nearby.
“Daddy! Daddy! I know what I want to be when I grow up!”
He tilted his head to the side. “Okay. I’ll bite. What do you want to be when you grow up?” Daddy asked, paying full attention.
I grinned. “I want to be an Indian when I grow up!”
Daddy and Mama stared at me, then at each other. Mama reached over to tap the
