My Elementary Particles
I want, I wish, I need. A meditation on keeping up with the Joneses and wanting to be one.
My wife just sent me a link to a gun. And while that may shock and awe a lot of you, I’m not surprised. You see, I’ve grown up more in the last three years than I did in the previous 22. And my perspectives, opinions, values and philosophies have undergone radical transformations. I’m probably less likely to tick a one-time bucket list item of being the first patron at Bukowski’s old hangout The Reno Room in Long Beach where doors open at 6 a.m. and more likely to be at my kitchen table perusing Zillow or the Rivian website. My daughter says she wants two pink ones for Christmas so there’s a lot of work to be done.
I did a fun thing recently and asked you all to submit questions thinking maybe there’d be some good Friday letter prompts in there. Some were funny and simple, mostly about surfing, some about writing and I’ll answer them all one way or another — but there was one asking me if I was affected by keeping up with the Joneses.
The question hit my inbox on a Saturday morning. I was into my first cup of coffee and trying to figure out what a family of four does on a wide open Saturday. There was a chemical spill threatening to blow nearby so an airborne toxic event was a possibility, presenting existential thinking at every turn. Was it real? Overhyped? Underhyped? I didn’t know. So I sat there with caffeine and this question from Andrew in Sydney, Australia.
I had the initial and cliche reaction at first of “Nah, mate. I just do my thing. Go with the flow, I don’t get jealous, I just get some waves and raise kids” etc. But then I kinda thought more about it. I do get jealous. I’m a Zillow whore. I want a Rivian. And an Audi. And more bedrooms and a yard with more trees. Olive trees! I want a new Merrick. A Mayhem and a Cal Twin from Doc. Another new wetty. I want critical and creative acclaim. And maybe I do need a gun. One for big waves and the other kind too, the one everyone says they’re against while the key to the safe holding theirs sits in their front pocket.
I thought about who I am: a dad of two kids (so far), a husband who founded and ran a magazine (nearly) as cool as Dylan Rieder. A magazine that sent me around the world often and whose legacy still sends me around the world occasionally.
I decided to go on a walk with my youngest in my lovely neighborhood (is it lovely? Compared to what?) with the question still fresh in my mind. I looked into the houses in my neighborhood, peering into yards as best I could to get a glimpse into other realities. I thought deeply of the Joneses in each of them. Did I want to be them? Did they wanna be me? Were they the Joneses? I judged them all while putting out my own energy. I was pushing a stroller while wearing nice Nili Lotan trousers and a Sunspel tee and Spalwart tennis shoes with subtle ollie holes. I wore Epokhes but I wanted them to be Jacques Marie Mage. I want, I wish, I need. A voyeur hoping to be spied upon.
I’ve written about this before, but my late grandfather would say, “There you go wishin’ again,” when he’d catch me saying “I wish….” about anything. And I still catch myself wishing and he still knows. He catches me keeping up appearances. A surf image. A dad image. A neighborly image. A creative image. A drinker image. A rebellious image. A sophisticated image. I want to be a little bit Kerouac. A lotta bit Bourdain (but not that bit). I want to be like Bill Nighy. Nick Cave. I want to be studious. And live in the country. And the city. I want to dress well. I want to be a Malloy and I want to tweak my airs like Timo Simmers. I want to be friendly. And mysterious. I want to be humble. But I want lounge access and upgrades. I’m down to sleep in the terminal on a layover and eat inside the bodega. I want to be rough around the edges. I want to look sophisticated too. I want my old friends to admire me and my new ones to envy me. I want a drink but I don’t want to ever seem drunk. I want good style. I don’t care about what fins I have but I want a new board.
My answer to the question became something I wasn’t prepared for: It was yes! A resounding yes. I do want to keep up with the Joneses! And not only that I want to be a Jones! But who was that exactly?
I had the chance to meet up with my longtime shaper and friend Jeff “Doc” Lausch recently to discuss surfboards and brands and surfing. We met at the monoculture coffee shop by my house and we had a great conversation and enjoyed the java. He said something that is still ringing in my head. “Do you ever get concerned about your image writing and putting so much of yourself out there each week?”
I knew what he meant. I cringe at the thought of recording a social video. But at the same time I’m over here writing adorable pieces about my daughter making a surf magazine about not wiping out. A 23 year old kid probably didn’t make it to the end and may not subscribe anyway. But Doc’s concern was valid. After a youth defined by “cool paying the bills” I was alienating people who wanted me to continue being their Jones.
But I think my definition of the Joneses is someone who finally figured out who they are and who they are not. And yes, I wanna keep up. I learned this in my surf life recently. I no longer need to stick the landing on my last wave. Or ride the best one. Or kink my wrist just so and say the right thing on the hill. I want the way I used to live to serve as my credentials while I work on getting my masters in what’s next. But my wife is right: we definitely need a gun.—Travis Ferré
Above Art: Rooms By The Sea by Edward Hopper.