by Margret Carswell

Created on: March 02, 2008

All of us think we are driven to consume, urged by what we read, what we see.

Could it be that somewhere deep inside us a little voice tells us we must have this item- right now.

It isn't the TV ads, the radio hype or the Internet pop-ups, it is my own little voice that knows exactly what my weaknesses are. I'd love to blame it on consumption culture, but this cc rider knows better.

My seductive little voice knows exactly what I like , what makes me feel insecure, and what will make me feel better if I can only get it. "Let's go shopping," it whispers.

Thinking of what we need, what we want, and how to get it, takes up a fair amount of time.

A holiday away perhaps? Or a Winnebago or two, or downsize the plan to expensive mountain bikes
Roller blades, or golf clubs, the list is endless. Factor in our children's wish lists, and the cc rider has company on the shopping ride.

Is the notion of consumption culture so new? Flashback to the 60's, was it so different then?

I remember riding in a White Mercury Monterey four door sedan- casually drooping my whole hand out the window each time we passed another car, and waving through the back window. In this car the very back window, slanted, went up and down, unlike other vehicles.

What better way to show off the nifty car feature, no doubt one of the things considered when my mom and dad purchased the car. All my friends came to admire the car and were dutifully impressed as my dad, a bit of a big kid himself, demonstrated the window. Did I mention that we all took turns putting our necks in the opening? No seat belts, no safety features, and we all got through childhood somehow.

Outfitted in a new Easter hat and dress, brand new sparkling white socks and patent leather shoes, I felt so beautiful.

Looking at the pictures now, I see a skinny girl, in a red cotton dress,with white athletic socks looking constricted by the Easter hat's elastic string under her chin. No doubt her three brothers had been snapping the elastic every opportunity.

Every Easter we were outfitted, head to toe, all five children, for going to Easter Services at the church. My mother worked hard to keep us out of the playground til we got there, effortlessly reducing all potential squabbles with the threat of no dessert.

The poster perfect family, and the poster car. We lived in a suburban 3 bedroom split level, and spent most of our days playing games outside.

Kick the can, red rover, scrub baseball were favorites, and we had a skating rink in the backyard

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