Growing Up Next Door to the Joneses

In the financial independence world, we love to talk metaphorically about the Joneses. These are the people who we, often in an unhealthy manner, compare ourselves to when evaluating wealth. Although we try to try to keep up, it often leads to an unending session on the hedonic treadmill. No matter how economically successful we become, there is always someone out there who has bested us. Money can’t buy happiness. It can’t buy health. It only can purchase material goods. Ironically, I grew up next door to the Joneses. That was their real name, and they lived up to the moniker to a tee.

Yet, as an adult, I realize that even our neighbors weren’t shielded from the perils of being human beings. Although a great template for comparison, the grass wasn’t always greener.

Introducing the Joneses

They owned an incredibly successful business that they eventually left to their children. This business created a huge windfall that was evident in their lifestyle. Their house was not only large but well-appointed. On any given day, peering onto their driveway, you could see not one but two Bentlys parked out front.

Growing up next door to the Joneses, I began to understand the concept of what a perpetual money machine really meant. Their business was booming and as the decades rolled by, the appearance of wealth only grew.

The Glamorous Life

Although there was no shortage of material wealth, living next door to the Joneses was a pleasure. Instead of the common stereotype, they were a kind and welcoming couple. They carried their fortune not only with grace but openness.

These were not people who rubbed your nose in their money. They might have enjoyed the material aspects of their situation, but they were good, hard-working people. They were not just entrepreneurs but parents and community members.

When Tragedy Strikes

No amount of money could shield the Joneses from the tragedy that also touches the lives of the less well to do. One of their children contracted a devastating illness at the very beginning of adulthood. I imagine that he was afforded every treatment option and specialist that money could provide. None of it helped.

His death was a sad reminder that wealth does not buy health. It does not buy happiness, nor inhibit the unexpected.

Growing up next door to the Joneses taught me that no amount of money can insure against tragedy. Nothing can.

It was odd having envy replaced with empathy. Having lost a father, I couldn’t imagine the heart-break of what happened to their child.

Time Waits for No One

The Joneses aged in place. They never left the hulking colossus next door. But as time passed, their movements became more restricted. They used less and less of the rooms, and frailty limited their ability to climb the stairs.

There is no level of riches that can buy youth. No secret formula to slow the aging process down. No matter how full their bank accounts were, their allotment of time was limited.

And they suffered all the indignities of aging. There bodies became hobbled and untrustworthy. Although they could afford the help needed to continue to live next door, they couldn’t rid themselves of the burdens of getting older.

And eventually they died. Within a year of one another.

Sadly and with regret, we no longer lived next door to the Joneses.

Renewal

A young family moved in not to long ago. Earlier in their economic pathway, they likely had to stretch to afford the neighborhood, and were nowhere near as well off as their antecedents.

I imagine that they often look across the street or even at our house and feel that same pang. Even though the names change, there are always going to be Joneses in the neighborhood.

And they might just be honest, hard-working people whose lives appear enviable at first glance, but suffer through all the same trials and tribulations as the rest of us