Why Homer's My Hero.

• Author: AUSTIN, ELIZABETH
• Position: Forsaking of middle-class values for high society values affects society

The All-American family shouldn't have to wear Gucci to feel good

WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE? You do. We all do. Don't we?

One week in August, the game show "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" came in second, third, and fourth in the Nielsen ratings--topped only by "Survivor," in which 16 strangers agreed to spend almost six weeks marooned together for the chance to win $1 million. Rounding out the top five was "Big Brother." A "Survivor" clone for agoraphobics, it offers a piddling top prize of $500,000 to 10 "guests" willing to endure three months of house arrest under the unblinking eyes of 28 TV cameras.

So what's wrong with that? This country's on an unprecedented economic roll. Why not flaunt it? And if I don't like the glorification of wealth, why don't I just roll up the newspaper, turn off the television, and ignore it?

I try. Really, I try.

I roll my eyes in moral superiority when I read about nouveau fiche mummies and daddies draping their tots in $400 cashmere coats by designer Sonia Rykiel. I shudder at the furnishing and upkeep costs of those sprawling new McMansions cropping up down the block. I have long, earnest talks with my two young daughters about integrity, about privilege, about following your heart instead of filling your wallet.

But sometimes in the middle of the night, I lie awake doing endless math problems: Three years until college, minus the home equity loan, divided by my failing desktop computer, added to our looming IRS bill, multiplied by the broken air conditioner on the minivan. In those dark hours, when those grim equations encircle my pillow, I come up with only one response--I've been a stupid, irresponsible fool. What's wrong with me? Why didn't I invest in the market in 1982? How are my children going to get through college without a debt load that will follow them into middle age? Why didn't I ever get a real job, with stock options? If I'm so smart, why am I not rich?

These financial nightstalkers visit my friends, too. By day, they're bright, hard-working, talented people, with nice homes, reliable cars, and generally happy families. But when, insomniac, they hear the downstairs clock strike two and three, they feel like they're the only chumps in America who don't have a comfortable million or two stashed away in a high-yield mutual fund.

Half-envyingly, I read about young, earnest foreign service officers who are being plucked from the financial obscurity of the State Department by the golden claws of Goldman Sachs. I feel a bittersweet pang when my seven-year-old eagerly describes her planned career as a marine archaeologist; when she's a little older, will she find more romance in day-trading? I hope she'll have the courage to pursue a life and career that offers satisfactions beyond a fat paycheck. But I don't know. It's so easy for her to turn on the television, or pick up a magazine and lose herself in those seductively portrayed trappings of wealth that make our home seem scruffy by comparison. Maybe some day she'll look at me and see one of life's also-rans, a mere scribe who lacked the ambition to sashay downtown and commandeer one of those six-figure public relations gigs.

Mom, Dad, and Money Magazine

Take financial advisor Suze Orman's breathtaking title: The Courage to Be Rich. What does that make the rest of us? Cowards? (In case you missed it, Orman reveals that "money is attracted to people who are strong and powerful, respectful of it, and open to receiving it" Thanks. That explains a lot.) Would-be financial heroes can receive Orman's gospel courtesy of our high-minded friends at PBS, which has starred the financial guru in two hour-long specials. Stay tuned for next season's BBC import: "Upstairs, Further Upstairs"

Our thinking has become so distorted that being comfortably middle-class now feels like the next step to actual poverty. In one recent survey on "Money and the American Family," the AARP found that one in three adults believes a family of four with an income under $50,000 is poor--and one in five considered an annual income of $200,000 as the bare minimum required for wealth.

We don't want all this dough for ourselves, of course. It's the kids we're thinking about. Leaf through the ads in Money magazine and you'll find a whole nursery full of dimpled youngsters. The little sweetheart dancing in her socks on Daddy's big shoes is fronting for Chase Vista Funds, while the youngster out sailing his toy boat works for American Century Investment Management. A sleepy newborn touts Barclays Global Investors. An intent little fisherman helps the Northern Fund trawl for new customers. (The only discordant adult note in this lullabye is struck by the handsome couple who've hit the sheets for E*Trade. Their post-coital bliss is captioned: "Imagine rolling over and saying, `That was better than investing.'")

The ads shamelessly target worried, conscientious parents. And boy, do they have our number. One ad, for MetLife Financial Service, shows a father joyously lifting his little son high up in the air, while the caption muses: "I want to make sure they never have to carry me" A similar note is sounded by the TV commercial for Scudder Investments: "What if your kid gets into Harvard? What if your mother needs long-term care? What if they happen at the same rime?" The worst-case scenario is illustrated By one grim little ad for Conseco Life Insurance that asks: "How do you plan on providing for your family after you pass away?" The grave of the improvident parent is marked by a tombstone reading "Your ad here."

But let's be honest. We're not planning to hand all of our millions (real or coveted) straight to the kids. We're bullish on the way we define...