The Joneses Were Never Real

 

Everybody knows the phrase “keeping up with the Joneses.” But almost nobody knows where it came from — and the origin is the best part.

In 1913, a cartoonist named Arthur “Pop” Momand started a comic strip called “Keeping Up with the Joneses.” It ran in newspapers for nearly 30 years. The strip followed the McGinis family — a husband, wife, daughter, and their maid — a family of social climbers constantly trying to match the lifestyle of their neighbors, the Joneses.

Here’s the kicker: the Joneses were never in the strip. Not once. They were talked about constantly but never drawn, never seen. For 30 years, readers watched a family exhaust itself chasing people who didn’t exist.

And Momand knew what he was writing about, because he’d lived it. He and his wife had been living in Cedarhurst, Long Island — a wealthy area — spending beyond their means trying to keep up with the well-to-do crowd. Eventually they wised up, moved to a cheap apartment in Manhattan, and he turned the whole embarrassing experience into a comic strip. He almost called it “Keeping Up with the Smiths,” but decided “Joneses” sounded better. The rest is history.

Over a century later, we’re still doing it. Only now the Joneses aren’t the neighbors — they’re everyone on your phone. Somebody’s vacation, somebody’s new truck, somebody’s kitchen remodel, all served up in a highlight reel while you’re sitting on your own couch wondering what’s wrong with your life.

Let me tell you what’s wrong with the game, not with you.

First, it’s a treadmill with no finish line. There’s always a newer car, a bigger house, a nicer something. The target moves every time you get close to it. You can run that race your whole life and never arrive — which ought to sound familiar if you read my last post.

Second, it runs on debt. A lot of the Joneses you’re chasing are broke. The cars are financed, the vacations are on credit cards, the lifestyle is rented. In my line of work I’ve sat across the table from plenty of people who looked prosperous and were drowning. Appearances are the cheapest thing money can’t buy — because you can put them on a card.

Third, it steals your contentment. Comparison is the fastest way I know to take a perfectly good life and make it feel inadequate. You’ve got a roof, food, people who love you — and none of it feels like enough because somebody online has more. That’s not ambition. That’s poison with good marketing.

Now, both truths, like always: there’s nothing wrong with wanting nice things. Wanting a better life for your family is a good and holy impulse. The problem isn’t the wanting. It’s the measuring — grading your life against somebody else’s highlight reel instead of against your own values and your own progress.

So here’s my suggestion: pick your own finish line. Decide what “enough” looks like for you and your family, and then go build that — not the Joneses’ version, yours. Save the money. Skip the upgrade. Let somebody else win the imaginary contest.

Because here’s the thing Momand figured out over a hundred years ago, sitting in that cheap Manhattan apartment: the Joneses were never real. They were never even drawn. You’re exhausting yourself chasing a blank panel.

Run your own race. It’s the only one you can win.

Everybody knows the phrase "keeping up with the Joneses." But almost nobody knows where it came from — and the origin is the best part.

In 1913, a cartoonist named Arthur "Pop" Momand started a comic strip called "Keeping Up with the Joneses." It ran in newspapers for nearly 30 years. The strip followed the McGinis family — a husband, wife, daughter, and their maid — a family of social climbers constantly trying to match the lifestyle of their neighbors, the Joneses.

Here's the kicker: the Joneses were never in the strip. Not once. They were talked about constantly but never drawn, never seen. For 30 years, readers watched a family exhaust itself chasing people who didn't exist.

And Momand knew what he was writing about, because he'd lived it. He and his wife had been living in Cedarhurst, Long Island — a wealthy area — spending beyond their means trying to keep up with the well-to-do crowd. Eventually they wised up, moved to a cheap apartment in Manhattan, and he turned the whole embarrassing experience into a comic strip. He almost called it "Keeping Up with the Smiths," but decided "Joneses" sounded better. The rest is history.

Over a century later, we're still doing it. Only now the Joneses aren't the neighbors — they're everyone on your phone. Somebody's vacation, somebody's new truck, somebody's kitchen remodel, all served up in a highlight reel while you're sitting on your own couch wondering what's wrong with your life.

Let me tell you what's wrong with the game, not with you.

First, it's a treadmill with no finish line. There's always a newer car, a bigger house, a nicer something. The target moves every time you get close to it. You can run that race your whole life and never arrive — which ought to sound familiar if you read my last post.

Second, it runs on debt. A lot of the Joneses you're chasing are broke. The cars are financed, the vacations are on credit cards, the lifestyle is rented. In my line of work I've sat across the table from plenty of people who looked prosperous and were drowning. Appearances are the cheapest thing money can't buy — because you can put them on a card.

Third, it steals your contentment. Comparison is the fastest way I know to take a perfectly good life and make it feel inadequate. You've got a roof, food, people who love you — and none of it feels like enough because somebody online has more. That's not ambition. That's poison with good marketing.

Now, both truths, like always: there's nothing wrong with wanting nice things. Wanting a better life for your family is a good and holy impulse. The problem isn't the wanting. It's the measuring — grading your life against somebody else's highlight reel instead of against your own values and your own progress.

So here's my suggestion: pick your own finish line. Decide what "enough" looks like for you and your family, and then go build that — not the Joneses' version, yours. Save the money. Skip the upgrade. Let somebody else win the imaginary contest.

Because here's the thing Momand figured out over a hundred years ago, sitting in that cheap Manhattan apartment: the Joneses were never real. They were never even drawn. You're exhausting yourself chasing a blank panel.

Run your own race. It's the only one you can win.

Prefer to watch or listen? This post is also a video on YouTube: The Joneses Were Never Real