When I wasn’t being a sheriff-cowboy, kicking Black Bart’s buttooskies and roping stampeding cows, I was showing off my Potawatomi heritage.
That meant roaming the vast prairie at 851 Nebraska Street, wearing my Indian headdress and killing buffalo with my trusty bow and arrows.
I think bow-and-arrow sets cost less than a dollar, and the return on Mom’s investment was huge. When she gave me a new set, I would disappear for hours, days even.
I would silently stalk bison, played by the neighbor’s poor collie, and occasionally break into a war dance if I saw a paleface (like my best friend Steve) who needed to have an arrow shot deep into his chest…
#Oklahomahumor #simplertimes #growingup #cowboysandindians #kidsbowandarrowset