Money is wasted on the wealthy

A couple of years ago, while working on the financial services division of American Express (since spun off and now called Ameriprise), we shot a series of TV spots and my producer coincidentally booked one of our locations in the town across the bay from my hometown. She chose the spot because it had expansive grounds with multiple structures on the property, and we could make it look like 5 locations as opposed to just one. Very efficient.

The house was in Kings Point, which is in Great Neck - just a stone's throw from where I grew up. I had learned in my 9th grade American Lit course that the "Sands Point" section of my town and its across-the-bay-sister- peninsula, Kings Point, were East and West Egg, respectively, of Great Gatsby infamy (important note: I am from the other side of the tracks). Drawn to glamor at an early age, it became a favorite novel.

So it was a thrill to turn up the day of the shoot and find out that indeed, F. Scott Fitzgerald had summered at one of the cottages on the very same property. It was believed to be during that summer he wrote the fantastically fabulous - yet ultimately tortured - great American novel.

The grounds and houses still belonged to the original family, yet in touring the property it was clear to see why they had offered it up for commercial shoots. They needed the money! It was quite down at the heel and its better days were long behind it. Still, it was obvious those better days had been pretty grand.

Speaking of grand, the family Grand Dame was poking around with one of her sons at her side throughout the day. She was frail, yet she still had a twinkle in her eye, and she was clearly tickled at the frenzied activity happening all over her property. I had a chat with her at the Craft Services table over coffee. When she heard I was from Port Washington, she was very excited to tell me she had long been a member at the Manhasset Bay Yacht Club there. I told her that was where I had held my wedding reception. She seemed to approve (although I didn't mention I still hadn't ordered pictures).

Fast forward to this morning. I sauntered through the New York Times while drinking my morning latte and stumbled across this article about that very same house and that very same family. It gave more insight to the scene that unfolded that day. Apparently this clan has seen their share of drama and tragedy.

People always use stories like this to make themselves feel better about not being rich. "Yes, they have all that money, but are they happy?" Let me tell you something, I could be very happy living on 21 acres overlooking the Long Island Sound. And no matter who picked a fight with me, I wouldn't let them take my money, and I would keep that house looking Gatsby-level-fabulous.