I’m talking about the YMCA organization.
Were you the father or the son?
My Brother and I (along with our Dad) were both in the YMCA. I remember doing some simple crafts. We had a Float in a local parade once, so we made some cardboard canoes with matching paddles which were heavily coated with bright orange paint.
We were supposed to walk alogside the float (which sported a large Teepee) pretending to paddle our canoes. It started raining heavily, so the Leaders piled us all on the float then had the tow vehicle pull into a gas station. Unfortunately, the overhang caused the Teepee to tip over, trapping most of us underneath.
The anguished wails of soggy kids was soon replaced as the paint started to melt.
“Hey!! Real war paint!!” “Don’t you dare rub that paint on your face!”
I was orange for days.
I was not. But I worked in an outdoor education program that was based in a YMCA camp. We had school groups Monday to Friday, and various YMCA groups took the place over on weekends. We always dreaded the weekends when the Indian Guides were in camp – small boys screaming and running around all over camp during the day, and dads staying up late drinking beer and playing poker in the evenings.
sniff
No love for Princess Rose of the Huron Tribe? Fine! Boys have cooties, anyway! 
I was in it along with my brother, and father. My dad was the only chief in our tribe with two braves. I remember it being a positive experience. We lived in Southern California at the time and the big thing was the trip to the camp on Catalina Island. Of course, there was always some kid who fell into the cactus patch. Afterward I became a Webelo for a while; and no I do not remember what they did.
What are we asking, specifically, in the OP?
EDIT: I see now that Webelos is part of Scouting and not part of the YMCA program of Indian Guides. It was a lifetime ago.
Geez, I haven’t thought about the Indian Guides for years. I was in it briefly when I was 6 years old. I seem to remember we made some crappy little construction-paper cuttings. Not sure if I stopped because I was so inept or because my father was bored with it. Could very well have been the former, as I proved quite the crappy Cub Scout too, so much so that I never even thought about giving the Boy Scouts a try, nor was I ever encouraged to do so.
I was not an Indian Guide, but my older brother and my father briefly participated. I somehow grabbed ahold of my dad’s old adult sized Indian Guide real leather (faux Indian ie-native american)vest. It resides in the back of my closet, waiting for costume opportunities. I expect that someday that I, too, will someday pass this down to my son…
I was as the son &, as I remember, liked it, but am now old enough that I believe my kids are too old for it. Don’t know what, if any, changes in a generation.
I actually know nothing about the organization, except when I was little, the boy next door held meetings in his back yard. I heard the adult instructing the boy with the drum: “Ten beats on the tom-tom.” Some sort of ritual, I guessed.
When I was in college and visited the Hare Kṛṣṇa temple in St. Louis on Lindell Avenue for their free Sunday feast, one time a friendly hippie showed up and chatted with the sannyasis. Gave his name as White Cloud. Told them when he was a boy in the Indian Guides, the Guidemaster(?) pointed at him and said, “You are White Cloud.” Dude was all “Wow, man, that was cosmically significant and now I’m White Cloud.” I hadn’t the heart to remind him that his name was already taken by a brand of bathroom tissue.
Princess Rose of the Huron, wanishi! 
Welhikhanexkwe (Lenape)
Yes, I was the son. My father and I did this from roughly 1992-1994. We were members of the Apache tribe. I have fond memories of traveling to different campsites throughout Ohio with the rest of my tribe, going hiking, getting badges and whatnot.
Yes, I was Flying Squirrel in the Kiowa tribe. My dad was Flying Fox. Houston, Texas, 1972-75.
My sister was also in Indian Princesses.
I loved Indian Guides. One of the fondest memories of my childhood. Way way more than boy scouts which I pretty much hated.
Way back in the 60s, my dad and I were in the Indian Guides in Taiwan. My dad was a runner, and he had the name “Running River”. Me? I was a chatterbox. Naturally, my name was “Babbling Brook”.
Good times, good times.
My brother and I were the sons, from about 1964 to 69-ish. We were Hopis at first; then at some point we became Shoshones. For us at the time it was a lot of fun. Our very first outing after I joined, described previously in this forum, was a helicopter ride around the local airports, which was quite frankly awesome to a kid who’d never even been in a plane before. I don’t think that outing was ever topped, but they were still fun. I always looked forward to them, especially the annual camping trips.
Curiously, the whole Indian Guides thing didn’t seem to have anything to do with the YMCA, even though obviously it did. Even though we spent a lot of summer afternoons at the Y, and our community had an excellent one, all that seemed completely separate from the Guides, probably because the latter group’s meetings and activities were almost always conducted away from the Y.
My brother and father were in it.
For a year or two, around 1960. San Diego. Our tribe was the “Toltec.” I was ten, my Indian Name was “Tomahawk”, a brilliantly witty play on my civilian first name. My fondest memories are singing “Pals Forever” with my Dad, and flipping shit on Ward B___ for naming himself “Running Bear.” He must have been the only ten year old in the state who didn’t anticipate the “running naked” teasings. We were on him like ants on a fish head.
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My Dad and I were both Indian Guides back in the 1970’s in the San Fernando Valley. I have very fond memories of those times.
I was in it with my dad when I was 4 or 5. I honestly don’t remember a lot of it at this point. I think my name was Running Bear.
I was in it with my son and daughters. I loved the program. Everything was done together, father and child. It is agreat program, but entirely dependent on the group of fathers. The YMCA was very uninvolved. They gave the fathers some general guidelines, and left it to them to organize it.
I was in it with my father in the early 1970s, I think for 2 years. The second year, my dad was chief of our tribe – he and the other dads picked “Oto” for our tribe name, since every other tribe was named Cherokee, Sioux, or Mohawk.
My Indian Guides name was Gray Fox. My dad was, of course, Red Fox. 
Back in the late '60s. Dad was Painted Horse, I was Painted Pony.