I have to own up to it--I wear jewelry. Nothing in my ears or nose I hasten to say, but jewelry nonetheless by Ozark standards. I wear bear claws, and Ozark men do not bedeck themselves with "ge-gaws."

I will never forget the reaction of one of my old neighbors when his son insisted on wearing an earring. "I'll go along with most all of this generation," he said, "but when menfolks start wearin' earbobs, I draw the line."

I, too, grew up in a time when men didn't decorate themselves, but back in the 1950s, I got interested in learning about the Osage Indians and the things they valued. I was researching a book about an old Osage Indian and wanted to be accurate.

This Ozark tribe was about as tough a bunch as you could imagine. They averaged 6-feet tall, didn't like strangers much and drew longbows as tall as they were. About all the advice they would listen to came from the old men of the tribe, the only ones allowed to wear bear claws.

No man among the Osage was allowed to wear bear claws until he was old and wise enough. Otherwise bear claws would kill the wearer by some means--lightning, drowning or other accident of nature. The bear claws would, if worn by a man of age and vision, give the wearer even more wisdom.

After learning about this custom and legend, nothing would do, when I turned 65, but to own a bear-claw necklace and see what happened. I had a friend of mine, a silversmith, make me one. The claws were out of an ancient Missouri bear hide, and the necklace was beaded with buffalo horn, the claws mounted in silver sockets. It took a year to make and that long for me to pay for it.

When I finally put it on, it was like wearing a lead noose, and I was always dipping it into my soup. But I was determined to wear it, if just to see if a tree would fall on me or I'd get hit by a lightning bolt. By the time I'd worn it a year, I was pretty comfortable, and I decided I was both old and wise enough to wear bear claws.

Then I went to my hometown to give a talk and ran into one of my old coon-hunting friends I hadn't seen for years. He stared at my bear claws in dismay.

"How come," he asked, "are you a'wearing them beads on your neck?" I explained the Osage legend and added that the bear claws, if I was old enough to wear them, were supposed to make me wiser.

My old friend then said one of those things Ozarks people are famous for and that will always keep me in proportion.

"Why that's fine!" he said, "Now when is all this here wisdom due to commence to take holt?"