In the early years, when we children were small and there were only three of us, our family lived in Spanish Point. Our rented house lawn was huge for playing catch, M. Soares grocery store was the lot one over from our neighbour right next to a magnificent poinciana tree and "The House That Jack Built'' was right around the corner.

Four things stand out vividly in my memories of that time, all of them associated with life-shaping incidents. The smell of kerosene heaters, the goldfish pond at the neighbour's across the street, the cellar of the neighbour's where we pretended we had a horse, and the wonderful array of candy for sale at Soares store.

One summer day, my brother, while playing on the goldfish pond wall, hooked his arm on the chicken wire fencing, severing a vein. My mother, having just returned from town on the bus took one look at the gore, wrapped his arm in a clean diaper (no disposables and no washing machine then). She then proceeded to wait for the bus to go to the end of the turnaround at the Boat Club, got back on the bus for the return trip to town, with my brother in her arms, then transferred again onto another bus to the emergency room. That trip that must have been a slow nightmare of 45 minutes, as my family had no car (and no health insurance), but my brother survived.

That frightening ordeal was followed far too quickly by another incident, when our baby sister while playing with us, ingested gasoline from a can left unattended in the neighbouring cellar. She, too, was rushed to hospital by bus in the same excruciating manner. The anxiety of that incident still remains so clear as that terribly long, stressful day for my parents ended when our sister was pronounced out of danger. She would exhibit a husky voice forever due to a damaged esophagus. My parents still had no affordable health insurance or personal transportation.

Soon after that, at the age of four, I stole thruppence from my mother's purse; took myself down to Soares' Store for a triangle of waxed paper full of that great candy. I was sitting under the poinciana tree, goobering it all up and having a wonderful time, when my mother called me home. It did not take much deduction on her part to figure out exactly what I had been up to; having had her patience and faith pushed to the limits in the prior months, I was severely punished for this transgression of honesty. And it was noted that not only had I stolen but I had not shared the ill-gotten luscious loot with anyone either. There stood my exhausted overwrought mother looking at me, the four-year-old selfish thief, with complete horror, saying to me: "What have you learned from this experience?'' Children learn the value of money and unequivocal trust in others at a very early age. Abuse that trust and soon on the child may acquire a healthy dose of scepticism; unfortunately, this must be so in order for the child to survive. Trust is a core value, so hard to attain, so easy to break, and almost, but not quite, impossible to rebuild easily. Yet, innate in all of us is the emotion of hope that one can trust again. What parents seek to impart to their children by word and deed are the best combination of these elements, trust (dosed with scepticism), hope in the future and a good definition of self-esteem. While education plays a great role in filtering knowledge needed for living, these three elements in the right proportions are crucial for good decision-making.

First time individuals looking to invest, purchase a mortgage, open a trading accounts, and so on, are out of their element. It is intimidating to work with someone in the financial world who is more powerful, in some cases much wealthier, and who appears more knowledgeable. A person who allows others to define who they are is more susceptible to manipulation by salespeople of all kinds. The timid investor, feeling inadequate "because they don't know as much as the financial advisor'' does not always make the best decisions even though they are capable of doing so.

Investment firms and large corporations have attempted for years to define this investor psychology. After all, if they can predict how the investor will react, they may be able to sell more product (and as a side function help the investor grow his assets, too). Experimental economists have developed models to test these investor psychology theories in the guise of games. One test, for instance, is called a "voluntary trust'' game: 1. You are PERSON A.

You will be given $40, which you must split evenly with another subject in the experiment -- PERSON B -- in which case the game is over; OR 2. You, PERSON A, present PERSON B with two choices, involving different amounts of money: You tell PERSON B he can take $30 out of $45, leaving you with $15; OR HE CAN SPLIT $50 evenly between the two of you.

To complete the math, you, as PERSON A have a sure $20 if you choose the first alternative; If you go for the second alternative, you will be left with either $15 or $25, depending upon PERSON B's decision.

Now, the stakes may seem small, but the implications of the choice are enormous. If you choose Number One, you fit the rational money-hungry model that classic economists have traditionally used to predict human behaviour.

What has been found happening instead, is that the majority of people choose Number Two, with PERSON B generously deciding to split the $50. Why? Respect and reciprocation. While the standard economic model is one where we are all very self-interested, what really happens is that even among strangers, "the people who are trusting make more money than those who are not''.

My mother already knew what behavioural economists are paid thousands to decipher. I suspect most mothers do. And no-one knew the value of money better than our mother. She chose to define her life by her children; who we were, what she could teach us and what we would become. She was a fierce advocate for our family's right to choose a secure future. Perhaps because she had been slighted herself, she laid the groundwork in us for respect for every individual, education, and trusting in yourself to make the best of any situation. Define who you are and you will have the confidence to trust others.

More than 50 years have passed since those times in Spanish Point. Our family long since moved away and four more children joined the family. Families today do have access to health insurance; many families have cars, washing machines, and warm homes. M.Soares & Sons store is still there, briskly selling Christmas trees when I ran by the other morning. The ponciana tree is long gone, perhaps gone in a storm or removed for more parking, the same for the fishpond. "The House That Jack Built'' still stands next to the lawn that was so huge in a child's recall; it really is the size of a postage stamp. But, I can still see my mother today, glaring at me to be sure I got it, "have you learned anything from this experience?'' Yes, Mom, I have... lots.

Celebrate life with your family this holiday season! Today's column was written to honour the memory of our mother, Anna Clarine Sawyer Harris, who passed away almost four years ago, January 1997. There will be no column next week due to the Christmas holiday.

Martha Harris Myron CPA is a Bermudian, a NASD Series 7 licence holder, a United States Tax Practitioner and a Comprehensive Financial Planner. She is Programming Director for the Financial Planning Association of Bermuda. Under no circumstances are the comments in this column to be taken as recommendations on the purchase or sale of securities or any other investment.