Think you get too many junk mail solicitations? Think again. I can safely say that for the last two years we've gotten almost one letter a day from various credit card companies addressed to one of our college-age children. If all were accepted and combined, it would far exceed my current line of credit and perhaps even Bill Gates'.

"Dear Mr. Smith, (name changed to protect the not-so innocent): As the membership criteria at American Express are becoming increasingly stringent, the Gold Card is becoming even more difficult to acquire. You, however, have demonstrated exceptional financial responsibility. For this reason, you have been selected for pre-approved membership for the American Express Rewards Gold Card."

This is a verbatim transcript of a real-life letter written to my then college freshman son. Ironically enough, this offer was made only a few months after getting his first credit card ever. As for his exceptional financial responsibility, he actually missed the first payment - the bill discretely lying in a heap of papers discovered after we dropped him off at college.

"Did you go through the papers we left? There's a bill due," warned my husband later on the phone. "Don't forget." And so it sat, ignored along with the fruit, vitamins and dental floss we'd also left as part of a feeble effort to leave him more self-reliant and in good hands.

Paying a $20 late fee on such a pitiful amount of charges was a small price to pay for a well-learned lesson. Some are better learned that way; too bad the credit card companies send enticements like the one above eradicating the lessons learned from consequences.

They prey on college students like vultures and have themselves to blame for the nationwide increase in personal bankruptcies. There were more booths hawking credit cards than academic-related ones at freshman orientation. For them my son was a winning combination: a freshman, missed his bill and racked up a late fee with the potential for more to come. But the joke was on them: He comes from a long line of thrifty ancestors - it never happened again nor did he ever pay a dime in interest.

The following year his sister also joined the ranks of college students and then they started targeting her. Interesting, though, now that my son is a junior the letters have decreased significantly as hers have increased in kind. This would seem counterintuitive; it would make more sense to offer credit cards to older students who've gained a little more maturity as they've adjusted to independence. Or does it? I guess it depends upon what you want.

The letters are a study in marketing. "Dude," started out one strange one to my son, omitting the standard "Dear Mr. Smith" in an effort to cultivate familiarity. It reminded me of the calls he kept getting in his senior year of high school from a recruiter for the U.S. Army. She had a flirtatious, hot-sounding voice and I'm sure her feminine wiles were thought a definite selling technique. My son wasn't swayed, though, and politely declined each time she called. Imagine, if he'd succumbed to her charms, he'd now be in Iraq instead of on that date she was insinuating. It's one of the perils of becoming an adult: deceptive advertising.

They switch tactics depending upon whether it's my son or daughter. The letters to my son emphasizes the status of the credit card: "Make an impression with your new Discover Platinum Card with no annual fee and a unique clear design," it reads.

College students, freshmen in particular, exist in an independent limbo kind of state. They really aren't full-bloom adults, and many parents are footing the bill. But parents aren't entitled to medical information or grades from the school for privacy reasons, and students can enter into contracts with no discernible means of income except mom and dad and a summer job.

And there are gaps in their knowledge that are staggering, like when one of our children after having a checking account for several months wanted to know, "How are you supposed to know how much money you have in the account?" The advertising aims to make them feel special when they've done nothing to warrant it, appealing to kids raised on the feel good-philosophy of the well-intentioned but flawed self-esteem movement.

Like when my son was advised of a promotion of sorts regarding his Visa card. "Congrats! We are bumping your Bank Of America Visa credit card to Platinum." How odd, my husband and I responded, we were never told our credit card was bumped up to Platinum and we're the ones with the long-standing relationship with the bank and, more important, the money.

"We're a bank who understands the unique challenges of student life," it goes on. At this point it wouldn't be a stretch to hear they'd showed up with pizza and beer.

"Simply use our student credit card during the next six months to go get that laptop you've wanted, take a Spring Break trip with your buds, or purchase school supplies." Now that's inviting, and all seemingly effortless.