When Looks Become Deceiving
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

When I was in high school, I was invited to spend spring break skiing with my friend’s family. It just so happened to be the family that my mother had always considered perfect.
The perfect mother clipped pertinent articles from the New York Times for her children to read over breakfast each morning. The perfect father was a partner at one of Wall Street’s hot firms. The perfect children, a boy and a girl — of course — were always doing thoughtful, unusual activities during the summer. The perfect family had a beautiful apartment facing the park and a gracious home in East Hampton.
As I packed my bag, my mother read me the riot act. I had to make my bed, clear the table, and say please and thank you. I laughed as she elaborated on the many aspects of my behavior that needed to be improved. I told her not to worry: I would be the perfect guest.
After we arrived and had dinner together on our first night, the perfect mother sweetly asked my friend a boring, mother-like question.
My friend looked at the perfect mother, smiled and said, “Shut the f—- up, mom.” Perfect mother laughed. I literally almost fell over.
It was then I learned that things are not always as they appear.
Most New Yorkers are savvy enough to know that looks can be deceiving. Intellectually, we know that the only perfect marriages and families are the ones we know from afar. We appreciate that very few, if any of us, ever know what is really going on inside someone else’s heart and home. We understand that every person has his own share of problems. Still, that doesn’t stop us from coveting our friends’ lifestyles, homes, jobs, physiques, spouses, and even offspring.
“For years, I secretly wished that I could be living my friend’s life,” a mother of three said. “It just seemed picture-perfect. The couple seemed so well-suited. The kids did so well at school. And then one day it all blew up. The marriage was a sham. The kids were being tutored left and right. She was drinking. He was in debt. It was a real eye-opener. I realized that I need to appreciate what I have.”
Most of us who call the Big Apple home have a competitive streak. But it is that same characteristic that compels us to take stock and measure ourselves against our peers.
What about our children? “When parents are busying keeping up with the Jones’s, you’d better believe the kids are, too,” an uptown psychologist said. “I have parents and children who during a session will constantly refer to other families. How much help they have. If they have the latest and greatest video game. How much they spent on tutors. If the parents are comparing, the kids do too.”
Teachers also notice that their students are ever more aware of who’s got what. “There have always been the kids who just had it,” a 30-year veteran teacher at an elite private school told me. “A certain magnetism, academic ability, athletic ability, great parents, older siblings. But today, the children who are coveted have the latest and greatest toys. Or clothes. This begins in kindergarten or first grade, and doesn’t ever go away. We are living in a world that worships a certain kind of materialism.”
“So often children take their cues directly from their parents,” a head of a private school in Riverdale told me. “The kids who are absorbed with popularity often have parents — surprise, surprise — who are absorbed with social mobility, with appearances, with status. These parents sometimes shower their children with the latest and greatest things. What a sad lesson to model for your children. It really is all about insecurity.”
How can we protect ourselves from the rampant materialism and jealousy that plagues the city? More importantly, how can we insulate our children from this kind of folly and redirect their energies to more worthwhile pursuits?
Teach your children that looks can be deceiving. You can tell them why material items have a limited worth, and you can remind your children that it’s what’s inside that matters. But mostly your children will learn from watching your behavior. If you remind yourself that the happiest people are those who are content with what they have — not those who focus on what they don’t have — the message will be quietly, subtly, and continuously transmitted. This shouldn’t be too hard. After all, we have the greatest riches of all — children.