Bradford Lad: Happy To Be An Indian
Mike Coatesworth tells of a childhood birthday when he received a present to remember for ever.
It was my birthday, and for some reason I had this idea that it was going to be one that I would remember for a long time to come.
When my friends came out to play they were wearing cowboy outfits, each one of them with a gun belt and a toy pistol in a plastic holster. Cowboy outfits were all the rage. Everybody wanted them - me included.
On the morning of my birthday I was excited. Had I got a cowboy outfit as a present? I had told my friends I might be getting one. This was my special day.
I waited ten minutes on my own. My stepmother was upstairs in her bedroom. Growing impatient I accidentally on purpose dropped a large spoon onto the concrete kitchen floor. This made a loud noise, and sure enough my stepmother was there in seconds, come to see if I had broken something.
She found me at the kitchen sink, washing the spoon. ‘I’m just washing up for you mam,’ said I ingratiatingly.
'You’re a good lad Mike,' she said with a smile. 'Here’s your present for you.'
She handed me a small package. A package that was much smaller than the one I had hoped for. This was not big enough to contain a cowboy hat. Nevertheless I was excited as I began to take off the wrapping paper.
I stared with a puzzled expression at the contents of the package. A wide coloured band decorated with beads, with a feather attached to it.
My stepmother came to my side. ‘Do you like it?’ she asked, taking a deep draw on the cigarette she had between her fingers. ‘You’ll be the only Indian around here. It’s better than being a cowboy, and you don’t want to be the same as everyone else, do you?’
Picking up the wide band, I inspected the black and white feather. Then I placed the band on my head.
'That’s a real eagle’s feather,’ my stepmother informed me. ‘I caught it as the bird flew past. I thought you would like it, then I got the idea of making the headdress and putting the feather in it.'
A tear formed in the corner of my eye. I was unable to prevent it falling onto my cheek. Then tears fell in torrents. My stepmother placed her arms around me. These were not sad tears. They were tears of joy.
In turn I placed my arms around my stepmother and hugged her long and hard. I think she knew how much the Indian headdress meant to me.
My friends could have all the cowboy stuff and all the toys they wanted. I had something better, something really special. My stepmother had made something for me. A lot of work had gone into that headband. It showed that she loved me.
I didn't have the heart to tell her that the eagle feather had actually come from a magpie.
