The phone call came in just after we opened the shop for the day. He had heard that we had a 'beader' working for us, and wondered if he could speak with her. Since I was the only female that 'worked' for us, I told him that he was speaking to her. He said that he had a major project that he wanted done, and wondered if he could come in to talk with me about it. I agreed, and told him to come in.
He and his dad arrived about an hour later. He was a young man, perhaps 25. He told me that he had tried to get someone from the Hualapai tribe to help him, but no one was interested. The project, he told me, was beading the brims of seven baseball caps. One would be his, another for his dad, the the remaining caps were for friends of his, who he considered to be his brothers. I warned him that this would be an expensive undertaking on his part, but he readily agreed to my price for each cap. He told me that the colors and designs were up to me; he was sure that they would be fine. They both left, and were back in an hour with the caps.
Beading, I should explain, can be a tedious job. Fortunately, I find it very relaxing. I had told him that it could take me a week to ten days for each cap, since I was not in a position to stop all other work and just bead away. He thought that was fine. I asked if any of the caps were for Native people, and he had said yes, five were. He explained that he was adopted out of the Apache tribe just after he was born. He had met his 'brothers' during his travels, and they were each from a different tribe -- Aleut, Penobscot, Sioux, Cherokee, and Mohawk. I promised him that I would do a little research, and that I thought he would be more than satisfied with the results.
I must tell you here, dear reader, that I am very fussy about my bead work. I try to put more into it than can be seen with the untrained eye. And in a project such as this, I knew that the design on each cap would be different. I made several telephone calls to trading posts around the country, calling in favors. Simply put, I wanted to know the tribal colors for each of the tribes these young men represented. It took three days, but I got the information I needed, and started beading.
The first cap finished would be for Richard. The Apache colors were used, and the design was basically eagle feathers, since the eagle is so highly revered in the Apache nation. I called him in when it was complete, and he was thrilled. He paid me for the cap, and told me that the next one would be for his dad.
He was adopted by Anglo parents, so I knew that the colors used would not be important. Since the cap was blue, I decided to use lighter shades of that color, and the design was the stylized Navajo butterfly. Again, he was thrilled with the outcome. I asked who was next, and he told me it would be for the young man of the Aleut nation.
By this time, Richard and I were becoming friends. He would pop into the shop once or twice a week, not to check on my progress, but to discuss the things in his life that were troubling him. His mom had passed over shortly before he first called me, and he missed her terribly. He had few friends locally, and he had a drinking problem. I spoke with him as gently as I could about the drinking, but he assured me he knew what he was doing.
The Aleut cap took me longer than expected, since I had to stylize the orca (killer whale) that was so sacred to his people. I let Richard know that the cap was finished and he came in to pick up. He was surprised with the design, and told me he was very happy with what I was doing for him. We talked a little more about his drinking, and he assured me that he was slowing down.
The Penobscot was next, and I didn't have a clue where to start for the design. A phone call to a friend, a member of the Penobscot nation, assured me that whatever design I used would be fine. The Penobscot, it seems, equally value all animal life as sacred. He offered a few suggestions, and I decided that the owl feather would suit my design best. When I called Richard to let him know that the cap was ready, he told me that he would be down in a few days to pick it up. This was unusual. Normally, he would be there half an hour after the cap was complete. I heard something different in his voice, and asked him what was wrong. He told me that his dad had suffered a major heart attack two days before, and had passed over. I suggested he come into the shop immediately. He did, and we talked for hours about what would happen to him. He no longer had a family, and very few friends. There was no one he could depend on for help. He was totally alone. I offered him some thoughts on where he might get the help he would need in the coming days, he thanked me, and left the store.
I didn't see him again until several weeks later. I had completed the caps, and told him he could pick them up one at a time, so that the financial burden on him would not be too great. He asked if I would do one more cap, for a special person in his life. He said the person was Anglo, so colors weren't important. The whole design should be my choice also. He told me that he would be moving within a few days, since the owner of the home his dad had been renting had decided to sell the house, and he had to get out. He had found a place in the next town that he could afford, so long as he didn't have a telephone. That money, he said, would be used to feed the dogs he loved so dearly.
I did the last cap in my favorite design -- the Navajo sunset. It uses white, yellow, orange, red, purple and black. I used various shades of each color, 21 in total, to make the one design go all the way around brim. The outcome was gorgeous. You could almost feel the colors quivering as the sun took it's final breath before disappearing below the horizon.
Richard came in about three weeks later, to pay for and pick up the remaining caps. Then, he presented me that final cap, thanking me for my hard work, for helping me through what he thought would be his most trying times, and for accepting him for what he was. He told me that he was settled in his new home, but that bad things were happening. Someone was shooting at his dogs, he had been beaten badly, and someone had tried to set fire to his home. I asked him why he thought these things were happening. He replied, 'because I'm different', and left the store.
I wouldn't see him for another year. When he did come in, he told me that he had to confess something to me. I steadied myself, and he blurted out that he was really a female, and that his name was Tina. My reply -- 'tell me something I don't already know'. He asked me when I knew, I told him that it was during our first meeting. He asked why I didn't say something before, and I told him that it wasn't my place. He was living the life he felt most comfortable with, and it was not up to me to change that. He thanked me, gave me a huge hug, and left. That would be the last time I would see him.
Several weeks later, a regular customer who knew Richard came in, and asked if I had heard about him. I said 'no', and she went on to tell me that he had been killed by a fire in his home. The fire department had ruled it an accident, since they had found evidence that he had been smoking in bed. Apparently, they said, he had fallen asleep while smoking a cigarette. They had found his body, and six small depressions, in the mattress. There is one small problem with this ruling. Richard did not smoke; he was allergic to tobacco.
While I miss him, and his humor, I know that he is at peace, and with those he loved most -- his mom, his dad, and his six wonderful pups. My sorrow is directed toward the person who did this horrific act. All through his life, he will live with the knowledge that he caused these deaths, and he will never know true inner peace. Never.
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