Are You Chasing False Gods?
My sadly departed friend, Frank, was a unicorn. He lived 89 years in the town he grew up in, a village on the Connecticut shore. A reporter at his local newspaper for over half a century, he had turned down offers to work for more glamorous publications, among them Sports Illustrated and The New York Times.
Frank had considered the priesthood in his youth. He stopped going to church and claimed he wasn't part of it anymore, but the church's moral teachings clearly stayed put. Frank approached reporting as a kind of ministry, spending much time talking with his "flock." His showered equal interest in the rich, the poor, the black, the white, the newcomers and the old-timers.
Frank stayed put in his weathered little house. The Rowayton of his youth was a modest place, inhabited by artists, teachers and electricians. At a certain point, the hedge fund crowd decided it was (START ITAL)their place. It had a beach on the Long Island Sound and a New York commuter line. It was next door to the very affluent Darien. And it had little cottages that the finance bros could tear down and replace with suburban palaces. They bought the cottages from older residents forced out by rising real estate taxes.
Frank became a kind of spiritual leader to the new super-rich neighbors. He felt zero envy of them. On the contrary, he keenly observed their discontent amid their plenty and diagnosed the reason. "They are chasing false gods," he'd often say.
The phrase relates to the Old Testament story of Moses descending Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments only to find the Israelites partying and worshipping gods of other peoples: Moloch, Baal, plus Aaron's golden calf. Hence, the phrase "golden calf" means an idol people create when they lose faith. Note that the first Commandment is "Thou shalt have no other gods before me."
Frank was not necessarily attaching a religious meaning to the line. He interpreted "chasing false goods" as devoting one's life to ultimately unimportant things.
Some of the false gods. Fame: It does not make one safe. Pursuing youth: Everyone who ages eventually loses it. Money: It doesn't prove superiority or provide security against suffering.
Frank recalls finding a young neighbor in his garage, hanging from a rope over his Ferrari. True story.
F. Scott Fitzgerald's Great Gatsby died in pursuit of false gods. He yearned for Daisy, not so much as a woman, but for the wealth and status she symbolized. Daisy was Gatsby's golden calf.
Frank's presence preserved a desired vintage feel. He fit in with Rowayton's charming, if increasingly fancier, main street. He represented continuity for young men who holed up at home monitoring overnight trading on Asian markets. Frank was one of the town's remaining oaks.
Basically, Frank just observed. Every morning, he would see young women jogging behind baby carriages, ponytails bobbing up and down. The older locals joked that the women "were working out like hedge fund wives." Lose their looks, and they'd be replaced with something younger and slimmer. (A lot of that was going on.)
Rowayton is perched on the southwestern border of New England. Many residents, fancying themselves upper class, dressed with Yankee understatement. This was a place where "quiet luxury" hollered.
Except for the cars. Big, expensive German SUVs predominated. A beaten truck or modest sedan parked in a driveway suggested a tradesman was there to fix the air-conditioning.
Frank died, his house was sold, and now there's a hulk built high to catch the water views. But the memory of Frank's life lessons goes on. Whenever I chase false gods, and sadly I do sometimes, his voice comes rushing in --and I reconsider.
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