One day a young polar bear cub was walking home from school with a lot on her mind. It was a question of identity. So she went up to her mother who was fixing dinner and asked, "Mom, are we real polar bears?"

Her mother looked perplexed and responded, "Of course we're real polar bears; what a question. Now go wash up for supper." So the little bear did just that.

But the next afternoon on the way home from school, she was still plagued with the same doubts. When she got home, she walked over to her father, who was in his favorite chair reading the evening news. "Daddy," she said, "are you sure we're real polar bears?"

"Why, yes," her dad answered. "we're real polar bears. Instead of asking silly questions, shouldn't you be doing your homework?"

"I guess so." So the cub went upstairs to work on long division.

The third day, the young bear ran home as fast as she could. She couldn't shake the fear that something was very wrong. Both her parents were in the kitchen drinking cocoa and talking about the penguins next door who were terrible gossips.

"Mom, dad, I can't stand it!" She was in a panic. "I don't know who I am anymore. Please tell me the truth -- are we really, truly 100% polar bears?"

Her parents were fed up with the subject. "We are real polar bears!" they shouted in unison.

The mother added, "Your great-grandparents were polar bears, your grandparents, aunt and uncles and cousins are polar bears. We are ALL polar bears! Why do you keep asking about this?"

The polar bear cub answered, "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm freaking freezing."

And so am I. Thirty-one years in the Midwest and I still hate the cold. (Brrr!)