My Tribe – the Redheaded Band

My sister has gotten into the act with a few embarassing photos. I’m told that I might need to start a blackmail fund to keep her from sending the most notorious ones.

Proof that I am indeed a full-blooded member of the Phaeomelanii:

small-Gin-Indian.jpg

This was when we were living in Albuquerque in the early 60’s.

Since I’m wearing the headress, I MUST be watching “Roy Rogers,”
although maybe I’m cheering for the Indians. Usually I wore a cowboy hat and rode my palamino pony, “Horsey Honey” in the living room when RR was on. HH was powered by springs, not hay, and went thumpy-thumpy instead of clop-clop. And I think I yelled “Hiyo, Horsey Honey” a lot.

Jeez. Nostalgia. All the thumping and “hiyo’s” must have driven my mom nuts.

I was one happy, contented kid then – the biggest problem in my life was what hat to wear when watching TV (TV watching was all about the accessories at that age).

My mom still has most of the furniture in the shot (some has been cropped from the image to avoid giving everyone an overload of 50’s Early American decor). My niece has the rest – when we visited her a couple of Christmesses ago, it was a very topsy-turvy maple-induced deja-vu experience for me.

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