Compulsive Acquisition Syndrome

I grew up in the 50's. We had little and expected little. Life was simple yet rewarding.

With $10,000 in student loans we entered into marriage with whatever our family scrounged up to help furnish our apartment. We were thrilled with the gifting of each and every item.

An old antique white bedroom set that I selectively antiqued blue, a card table and chairs for our first kitchen set and a few mismatched Mediterranean pieces filled our living room. Our first refrigerator needed a manual defrost. Chipping ice off of the inside of the freezer was a weekly task. The stove, a side by side gas and gas stove, with heat on the left and an oven on the right, needed a match to be lit. Singeing a few eyebrow hairs was not uncommon. Our medicine chest, an old metal insert with mirror, was so small that it threw up every time it was opened tossing deodorant sticks, toothbrushes and razors into the toilet.

Vacations were a trip to my family's home in Upstate NY and eventually a week in the Lake George area. Caribbean vacations and cruises were dreams to be achieved in our later years. I was a stay at home Mom, raised the kids while my husband worked his day job and a night job to supplement the income. A night out was a visit with friends, eating pop corn and playing cards. Our parents worked and were not expected to watch, nor asked to watch, the kids unless it was a special night out which generally fell around our anniversary.

Name brands consisted of foods products. Kellogg's, Oscar Myer and Snacking Cakes topped the list. It wasn't until my son asked for Nike sneakers that we realized Keds were not the in thing. Having a strict budget and never giving the kids, or ourselves, more than needed, he was told he could have them on one condition. We would pay what we generally paid for his sneakers and he'd have to throw in the balance. After a few fits and some financial check points on his part, he found the no name brand to be quite comfortable.

Those days are gone. Both of our children are married, our son with children of his own. All partners have excellent jobs and their combined family earnings are above ours. They want for nothing, expect it all and get it. They purchased houses prior to marriage, take yearly exotic vacations and have play toys that Best Buy couldn't compete with. I fully appreciate the work my children put into their educations and what our $400,000, 5 year college expenses, have produced. But I often sit and shake my head at the difference in lifestyles my children lead, as opposed to ours as young adults.

I've always protested all insinuations that I would sound like one of my parents when saying, "In my day...", "When I was a kid....", "When we first got married..." But alas, the voices of my youth ring ever so sharply, kept silently stifled, within my being. There are times they pound at the cranial door to be released.

For example, my son called a few evenings ago welled with excitement at his potential purchase of a 52" flat screen TV. As a mother I inquisitively asked,

"Oh how nice. Did your other TV break?"

Cordially he responded, "Nope, I just want one. And while we were there looking, Mom, we checked out refrigerators too"

"Oh no! I am so sorry. Your refrigerator died?"

"Nope, just thought maybe we'd get a bigger one. Financing is great!"

Having "had" to recently replace our refrigerator, and our washer and dryer a week or so following, I paused in wonderment as I recalled my frustration in having to purchase three major appliances in less than a month. Anticipating the stove going next I suggested to my husband we put a hold on one as we'd be back in a few weeks when that went.. I am married to a man that doesn't believe in financing. This year I have reserved a half ton of beach sand to be delivered in March. We're going to dump it in the kitchen, pull up a few lawn chairs, sip Margaritas and watch our appliances.

The next day another call came in to tell us the TV had been purchased just in time for the Super Bowl. With the Patriots being my sons favorite team it just couldn't have gotten any better....had they won. The evening after the Super Bowl my husband called my son. In one of the best family moments to date my husbands voice rang through the house,

"So...was it easier to watch your team lose on that 52" screen TV?"

That evening we rented a movie, snuggled up and gave thanks for having each other and our, still working, 26" TV.