Sophie, Succession, and East Hampton “Finance Bros”

Early this morning I carried my dog (Sophie, a Shih Tzu, 12 pounds) across a three-way, perilous intersection in East Hampton. Sophie had had a late night, first playing with our friends’ gentle but giant Burmese Mountain dog (100 pounds plus) while our two families had dinner. Then Sophie stayed up well past her bedtime (and ours) as we and our friends watched the Succession finale. Their internet was out so we all came back to our place to watch.

I mention the above only to establish that Succession was on my mind and that Sophie had what I thought was a fatigue hangover, making her especially Zen-like in her proclivity to stop, sniff, and stare. I anthropomorphize the hell out of Sophie, and I think she’s happiest as a sort of flaneur, watching the world go by from a bench, the steps of the Met, or in the middle of the road, the dog equivalent of an idle café existence.

I carried Sophie across the intersection, not so much out of a fear of cars. There are three stop signs. Instead, it’s fast moving cyclists that worry me as they tend to disregard all traffic signs. As fate would have it, two male cyclists, betraying the seriousness of their cycling purpose by the flamboyance of their Spandex, came from a westward direction.

 As they approached, one was shouting, and I heard what he said as clear as a bell. “I always think it’s crazy when I see someone carrying their dog. What’s the point of having a dog?”

Safely out of the road, I stared at him and his cycling companion as they sped through the stop sign. It was obvious I’d heard his comment. He said “Good morning,“ a hapless attempt to make amends.

He must have realized his “Good Morning” was pathetic so he doubled down, and as he went past us, he threw his last comment back over his shoulder. ”Why do you carry your dog? It makes no sense.”

My morning walks with Sophie are almost always an exquisitely peaceful way to start the day. But not this morning.

As I considered the cyclists, I thought about the brilliant show Succession and how like any work of art it could be interpreted at many levels of depth and understanding. At one obvious surface level, the fashion style of the fabulously wealthy Roys has been emulated. So-called “stealth wealth,” where you have to know your unlabeled luxury brands well enough to identify thousand dollar casual wear.

And that made me wonder whether on that same surface level of understanding, if there’s a certain type of fan of the show who would ape the Roys not only by wearing cashmere baseball caps, but also by copying their rudeness. Whether some fans might find in the crude and cruel behavior of the Roys a certain license in being gratuitously rude and see that rudeness as a misguided mark of status or wealth. Like my cyclist friends from this morning who I pegged as in their thirties.

Now I have to say that despite some egregious exceptions, the wealthy people I know are neither rude nor cruel. And their grown children have by and large inherited the values of their parents. So I don’t often tend to come across the type of younger person who might be unconsciously uncomfortable with their wealth and who accordingly might think being privileged ought to add to their entitlement rather than their gratitude. Who, lacking other role models, might see the characters in “Succession” as worthy of imitation in attitude.

In other words, “Finance Bros,” assuming that phrase is still in circulation. And I consider that a good guess as to the nature of the cyclists as the Hamptons is rife with that species.

Of course, you don’t have to plumb very deep or be very self-reflective to recognize that the lesson of “Succession” is that nothing is guaranteed and nothing lasts. Most of us strive for goodness, and most of us succeed in re-earning it every day.

The bigger lesson from this morning is how a careless bit of inconsequential, unmerited criticism from a stranger can be unsettling. Maybe I have a thin skin or maybe I over analyze things. So be it. I’m not going to change.

But this morning reminded me that the corrosive power of being capriciously impolite has its counterpoint in the ennobling power of a random act of kindness, no matter how small. As Sophie and I walked back to our house, a car approached and I picked Sophie up so we would be well out of the car’s way. The woman driving the car gave an appreciative wave and smile. I did the same back and the correct order of the world seemed, for that moment, restored.