I was born on the Island of Mannahatta before the Dutch came to live here. It was a good place to live because there were a lot of beaver and other animals to hunt and we had really good relations with the other tribes in the area. I lived in wigwam with my family. Life was hard because we did not have metal tools and we had to hunt and collect fruit and vegetables to get all of our food. We had to make our clothes from animal skins like beaver deer, and bear skins.
After the Dutch came, we traded beaver skins for metal tools which lasted longer and worked better than the stone and bone tools we used before. We also got blankets to help keep us warm when we sleep. So we liked to trade with the Dutch but the beavers for skins are almost gone from Manahatta. We have to go to other areas to hunt beavers which is a lot harder. The other tribes are not happy about us hunting beaver in the areas where they live. Also the Dutch brought sicknesses that we never had before and a lot of our people have died.
I am standing at home plate. I am holding a wooden bat in my hand. My heart is racing. I am nervous and excited. My brother is pitching. I am scared he will hit me with a pitch, because he is a horrible pitcher. My brother is bigger than me and makes fun of me because I am small for my age. But I am pretty fast and I am better than him at baseball. My brother is really good at most games and wins all the time. It makes me really want to hit his pitch hard. My brother is teasing me that I won’t be able to hit the ball and that he is better than me. I think to myself that he is just being a jerk, but it still makes me sad. My dad, who is in the outfield, yells for us to stop teasing each other.