These are my fingers and nails.

The biggest lesson I've learned happened in my first year of school.

As a very active youngster, I spent most of my time outside in the bush with my brothers and neighbours--building cities, getting married, teaching trees and such how to read... the usual things that go on deep in the woods.

Coming in for supper or sleep was just an unwelcome and annoying intrusion into my 'real' life. So was washing up, actually.

We were big on 'happy' but not so much on hygiene--as my kindergarten picture will testify (I have a knot of hair on top of my head, and my sweater is on backwards--you can see the tag hanging--and buttoned in the wrong holes).

One morning our teacher decided to have us all line up while she called each of us up, one at a time, to inspect our cleanliness. She examined us scrutinously, but what I remember most about the whole harrowing experience was the accolades everyone else got--and my embarrassment over the reprimand for my very dirty finger nails.

I have to admit, it had never dawned on me before that they required specialized care. They've pretty much been clean ever since.