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WHEN MY YOUNGER brother Jonathan died, I thought I knew who he was.
After all, we had shared a childhood in England, years together at boarding school, family adventures in Bangladesh, and more than six decades as brothers. I knew the journalist the world admired, the devoted husband and father, and the man whose words quietly helped millions of readers live richer lives, not simply financially, but personally as well.
I was wrong.
Over the past several months, I’ve been searching for Jonathan’s beginnings. I thought I was looking for old articles, forgotten photographs and the names of people who had influenced his career. Instead, something unexpected happened. Former classmates, editors, colleagues, friends and readers began sharing their own Jonathan. One remembered a trusted reporter who never misrepresented his intentions. Another remembered a laugh that never disappeared, even in the face of death. His children remembered a father whose greatest gift wasn’t advice, but confidence.
Piece by piece, they gave me back my brother.
Not a different Jonathan.
A fuller one.
There was a Jonathan his readers and sources knew that I had never fully appreciated. He wasn’t afraid to ask difficult questions, but he asked them honestly, respectfully and never with an agenda. Dina Isola, who dealt with Jonathan professionally for many years, remembered that his reputation for fairness and honesty meant people trusted him enough to agree to interviews even when the subject matter was difficult.
Financial adviser Dan Danford remembered another quality. Jonathan held strong opinions, but he was never condescending or antagonistic toward those who saw things differently. Dan described him as open to genuine discussion, willing to listen as well as challenge.
Bill Blase, a longtime media relations executive who worked with Jonathan, saw yet another side of that same integrity: how seriously Jonathan took his responsibility to readers. Bill remembered him as meticulous about every word, statistic and investment he described. Jonathan once explained why: “We’re talking about real money here. So, the challenge is on getting it right, the first time. Not the second. This is not Monopoly.”
Jason Zweig, who became Jonathan’s friend in 1987, distilled all of this into a sentence I’ll never forget: “What you read is who he was.”
People trusted Jonathan because he was honest. They felt they knew him because he shared something of himself in every article he wrote. Jonathan wrote about personal finance, but his work was never just about money. It was about life, the choices we make and the experiences that ultimately matter most.
Bill Bernstein captured that beautifully when he said Jonathan wrote about “things that were far beyond the beat of a normal finance writer.” Perhaps Bill’s most revealing observation was also his shortest: “This man knows my life.” I suspect millions of readers felt exactly the same, not because Jonathan knew their individual circumstances, but because he understood something deeper about the hopes, fears and uncertainties we all share.
As I continued listening, I realized there was still more of Jonathan to discover. Through his children, Hannah and Henry, I met perhaps the most important Jonathan of all.
They didn’t remember a celebrated journalist or one of the world’s most respected financial writers. They remembered their dad.
Hannah recalled telling Jonathan how strong he had been throughout his illness. His response surprised her: “You would be the same if you were in my situation.” That simple reply revealed something profound. Jonathan seemed to see strength and confidence in other people long before they saw it in themselves. She also remembered her first day of kindergarten. Jonathan bent down and whispered, “We’ll pay for the best college you can get into, so go work hard.” It still makes me smile. It was vintage Jonathan: Encouraging, optimistic and quietly expressing his confidence in her future.
Henry’s memories were different. He remembered cups of tea, conversations and simply spending time together. They were ordinary moments that, taken together, painted the picture of an extraordinary father. Listening to both of them, I began to understand something I had never fully appreciated. Jonathan’s greatest legacy isn’t found only in the books he wrote or the articles he published. It lives on in the confidence he gave his children, the kindness they extend to others and the values they now carry forward.
Elaine knew another side of Jonathan, the husband who could make her laugh from the moment she came downstairs in the morning until the last conversation before they fell asleep. She remembered that, despite the wonderful vacations and fine restaurants they enjoyed, Jonathan often said he was happiest during quiet Sundays at home, sharing coffee and croissants, watching the squirrels and birds in the garden, and simply knowing the other was there. Even his financial instincts followed them home and on vacation. Whenever Elaine contemplated a purchase, Jonathan would ask, “Do you really need that?” or, when traveling, “Do you have room in your suitcase for that?” Sometimes she listened and sometimes she didn’t. But even now, she says, his voice still guides her when she’s tempted to buy something.
Most importantly, Elaine remembered Jonathan as a man of his word. When he said something, he meant it. He showed his love not through grand gestures, but through everyday acts of kindness and devotion. During his final year, as he quietly made sure Elaine and his children would be financially secure, she came to see those preparations for a future he knew he wouldn’t share as one of his greatest demonstrations of how much he loved them.
Then there was Jonathan’s humor. Cancer didn’t take that from him. If anything, it sharpened it. Even as his world grew smaller, his laughter never did. Jason Zweig remembered that Jonathan “laughed at death the same way he had laughed at everything else, with that unquenchable cackle of his.” Bill Bernstein saw the same remarkable spirit, recalling, “I never saw anyone who could laugh in the face of death the way he did.” Jonathan himself joked that he “hadn’t realized what a marvelous book marketing strategy a terminal diagnosis could be.” Those stories weren’t simply amusing. They revealed a man who refused to let illness decide who he would be.
Like many readers, I assumed Jonathan started HumbleDollar as a retirement hobby, a way to stay connected to writing after leaving The Wall Street Journal. I couldn’t have been more mistaken. HumbleDollar became another expression of the person he had always been. Jonathan devoted countless hours to writing, answering emails, interviewing readers, encouraging new writers and quietly building a community. Yet none of it ever seemed like an obligation. He genuinely enjoyed the conversations and the opportunity to help others.
What struck me most wasn’t the number of hours he worked, but how willingly he gave away his time. Whether responding to an email from a first-time reader or interviewing someone for an article, he made people feel they mattered. One reader told me Jonathan always replied with a handwritten thank you note after receiving a donation. Others remembered thoughtful emails, encouraging conversations and carefully edited articles that made them better writers.
Individually, those acts seem small. Together, they tell us exactly who Jonathan was.
The more I listened, the more I realized that Jonathan never forgot the people who had opened doors for him early in his career. Mrs. Dolezal helped him find his first reporting job. Leslie Leven patiently taught him the craft of journalism. Years later, Jonathan quietly became that person for countless others. I don’t think he mentored people simply because he was generous. I think he did it because he remembered.
In the weeks after Jonathan’s death, I thought I was collecting stories. I wasn’t. I was collecting pieces of a man. His readers showed me his integrity. His friends showed me his humanity. His children showed me his heart. His colleagues showed me his generosity.
No one person held the whole picture.
Not even me.
But together they did.
When Jonathan died, I thought I had lost the brother I knew. Instead, over the weeks that followed, I found myself discovering him all over again. The Jonathan I found wasn’t different from the brother I had always loved. Through the memories of everyone whose life he had touched, I simply came to know him more completely.
After spending more than two decades building a successful landscaping business with his twin brother Nicholas, Andrew Clements retired in 2015 with a new appreciation for what matters most. Born in England, his essays draw on a life that has included growing up in England and Bangladesh, entrepreneurship, caregiving, family loss and travel. A regular HumbleDollar contributor, he enjoys tellingstories that remind readers life’s richest lessons often have little to do with money. Andrew is the older brother of HumbleDollar founder Jonathan Clements, whose life and legacy have inspired some of his most personal writing. He lives in Florida with his husband, Joey.
Andrew, thank you for this rich word portrait on what must be a difficult anniversary for you.
I discovered HumbleDollar in 2020 when one of Richard Quinn’s articles about being trapped on a cruise ship during the early COVID days crossed my news feed, and it led me here. By early 2023, I had a modest list of possible topics I might like to write about, and I got up my nerve and reached out to Jonathan, who was as generous, welcoming, and encouraging as you and others describe. I didn’t know whether a professor with no expertise in finance had anything worth saying, but Jonathan made space for me, and the readers welcomed me, too.
I still miss his presence here, but thanks to you and others, he’ll never really be gone.
Dana, thank you so much. I especially loved your comment that Jonathan “made space” for you. I think that captures something very special about him. He saw value in different voices and gave people the confidence to share their experiences, even when they weren’t sure they had something to contribute. HumbleDollar is richer because of writers like you whom Jonathan encouraged to take that first step. And your final thought means a great deal to me. As long as this community continues sharing, learning and helping one another, I think a part of Jonathan will always be here.
Thanks for this beautiful article, Andrew. Even though I never had the chance to meet Jonathan in person, I am very grateful that he and I had the opportunity to exchange emails. He was a wonderful person.
Many of our lives are better because of his generosity in sharing his knowledge and wisdom, including through founding HumbleDollar.com. Thank you for sharing this beautiful tribute.
Thank you so much. One of the things I’ve come to appreciate even more through writing this article is how Jonathan could make people feel a personal connection with him without ever meeting face to face. Those email exchanges clearly meant something to him as well as to his readers. And I agree, HumbleDollar may be one of his greatest gifts to all of us. I’m grateful that his knowledge, wisdom and generosity continue to touch lives through the community he created.
Andrew,
Thanks for this excellent piece honoring Jonathan!
I will never forget how Jonathan helped me. After my retirement, I started writing as a hobby. A friend mentioned to me about Humble Dollar. I was fascinated by the quality of articles, comments from readers and the mentorship provided by Jonathan as editor. I wanted to write for HD. He was very tough editing a draft of my first article, and made sure it was good enough for HD. I learned basics from him and slowly improved by writing skills.
Here is his message on editing my 10th article draft:
Mohan,
Many thanks for the attached. Nice piece. Please let me know whether the edit looks good to go.
Best,
Jonathan
He laid the foundation and gave me the confidence to continue writing. Thanks Jonathan, for your encouragement and support!
Thank you, Mohan. This really touched me. What a wonderful example of Jonathan’s mentorship: not simply making your first article better, but teaching you enough along the way that, by your tenth, he could simply say, “Nice piece.” I think Jonathan would have considered your growth as a writer the real reward. He gave you the foundation and confidence, but you did the work and carried it forward. Stories like yours help me understand just how many people Jonathan quietly encouraged along the way. Thank you for sharing this memory of him and please continue to share your thoughts.
I too have had the experience of learning more about a loved one after they passed. Acting as an executor meant going through not only their financial papers or documents, but often personal notes. It was sometimes difficult, but also beautiful. It seems unusual, at least to me, that I and so many others felt like we genuinely knew Jonathan, despite never having met him. I still have one of his personal thank-you notes he sent me. It was brief yet warm. Thanks for sharing this Andrew.
Thank you, Jack. I was especially touched by your experience of discovering more about someone you loved after they were gone. “Difficult, but also beautiful” describes this journey remarkably well. And like you, I continue to be struck by how many people who never met Jonathan nevertheless felt they genuinely knew him. The fact that you still have his handwritten note says something about how meaningful those small personal gestures could be. Thank you for sharing this.
I too treasured the “thank you” cards from Jonathan for my donations. The last one included my returned check as he explained he was no longer accepting donations for HD. What a legacy he left his readers.
Rich,thank you for sharing this. I’ve heard from several readers who treasured those handwritten notes, and I think they say so much about Jonathan. The fact that your final note included your returned check is especially poignant. After his cancer diagnosis, Jonathan made the decision to stop accepting donations to HumbleDollar, even as he continued writing and giving so much of himself to his readers. I’m grateful that those small, personal gestures are part of the legacy he left behind.
Thanks Andrew for a lovely reflection on your brother.
This is also a powerful reminder how little we know about those we interact with every day, including our own family and friends. If people are irritable, difficult, moody or just plain puzzling, there may be lots going on that we just don’t know. Probably worth cutting each other a little slack.
Thank you, Greg. I think you’ve touched on something important. If this experience taught me anything, it’s that even after knowing someone for a lifetime, there can still be so much we don’t fully understand about them. We all see only part of what another person is carrying. As you say, perhaps that’s reason enough to give each other a little more grace.
Andrew,
Thanks for a very poignant piece. The line that resonated with most was:
“What struck me most wasn’t the number of hours he worked, but how willingly he gave away his time. Whether responding to an email from a first-time reader or interviewing someone for an article, he made people feel they mattered.” From my first interaction with Jonathan I felt his kindness and friendship. I spent some time looking at old emails from Jonathan – there were about 600 exchanges over 7 years. One exchange gave me a smile. I wrote a piece on having to choose between a lump sum pension, or a monthly benefit. Our plan had some nuanced options depending on the employee age when they left the company, length of service, and age at start of benefits. I rewrote that section several times and still it wasn’t clear. Instead of pointing to me confused writing, Jonathan blamed his early morning lack of coffee for his inability to grasp my point!
One other point I haven’t seen mentioned in discussing Jonathan since his passing. He was really smart. I tend to right some technical stuff and he instantly got what I was trying to convey, and always made my writing better. He always checked my math, occasionally finding mistakes and correcting them. Kind, friendly, open, smart, and mathematically skilled. That’s a rare combination.
Thank you, Rick. Six hundred exchanges over seven years says so much about the relationship you and Jonathan developed. I especially loved the story about him blaming his lack of coffee rather than your writing, that sounds so much like the Jonathan I knew. And you make an excellent point that I probably haven’t emphasized enough: Jonathan was extraordinarily smart. To combine that intelligence with kindness, humility and the ability to make other writers better was indeed a rare combination. I’m grateful you shared this.
Andrew: what a great essay about your brother! Thanks for gathering all that information from the various sources AND sharing it with the rest of us.
I feel fortunate to have somehow found Humble Dollar approximately 2020, and wish I had done so years earlier. Jonathan’s writings, and that of others on HD, have really helped my thoughts about personal finance, retirement, and much more!
Again, thanks for a great tribute article about your brother!
Thank you, Dave. I’m so glad you found HumbleDollar and that Jonathan’s writing, along with the contributions of so many others, has been meaningful to you. Gathering these memories turned out to be a gift to me as well. I began simply wanting to learn more about Jonathan, and instead came away knowing my brother more completely. Thank you for reading and for your kind words.
Andrew,
This is a beautiful, insightful piece. Jonathan helped so many of us, and in so many different ways. I’ve described before how much he taught me about clean, straightforward writing, with no unnecessary verbiage. Having my articles edited by him was a privilege and a unique learning experience.
Another aspect you mention that has really stayed with me was his unflinching, pragmatic, and selfless attitude in the face of death.
I especially remember the humor you highlight. I’m paraphrasing here, but I recall his saying, as he tidied up all the finances to make things easier for Elaine and his kids, “I never realized dying was so much work!”
Another time I saw a video of a panel he was on and he referenced the title of his long time WSJ column, “Getting Going.” He said if he were writing it now, it would better be titled, “Getting Gone.”
Jonathan was a treasure. Thank you for maintaining his legacy.
Andrew
Thank you, Andrew. Hearing from writers like you who had the opportunity to work directly with Jonathan has helped me understand another side of him, especially how much he quietly taught through his editing. And those two examples of his humor are priceless,“dying was so much work” and “Getting Gone” sound so unmistakably Jonathan. His ability to face what was coming with such pragmatism and still find something to laugh about was remarkable. Thank you for sharing those memories and for helping keep his legacy alive.
A wonderful tribute to brother Jonathan. Everything said is right on target. I actually remember being totally surprised when Jonathan answered my emails. What a most wonderful person who teaches so much about life, that includes financial awareness. Nice to find an Honest and Upright person.
Thank you, William. I’ve heard that same sense of surprise from so many readers, that Jonathan actually took the time to answer their emails personally. I think that says a great deal about him. And I especially appreciate your point that his lessons went far beyond financial awareness. As I’ve learned through writing this article, Jonathan taught us quite a bit about how to live as well.
I read some place that you are still living if people remember you. It appears that Jonathan was fondly remembered.
Thank you, Dan. I like that thought. If we continue to live through the memories we leave with others, then Jonathan is certainly still very much with us. One of the unexpected gifts of writing this article has been hearing just how many people remember him, and how fondly.
Andy, I can only imagine a typical day in Jonathan’s HumbleDollar period as being one long and open ended conversation with anyone who sent him an email. I emailed Jonathan a couple times with comments I did not want to post on the blog. I didn’t necessarily expect a reply, but I always received one within minutes, and it was always in a conversational tone, as if we were sitting face to face chatting.
I know that mine was not an isolated experience, as many others have talked about similar interactions with Jonathan. It’s no wonder that Jonathan felt like a friend to so many.
Dan, I think you’ve described it perfectly. Jonathan somehow made an email exchange feel like a conversation between two people sitting across from each other. What amazes me, especially after hearing so many stories like yours, is how much of himself he gave to his readers. He didn’t have to respond, certainly not within minutes, but he did. I think you’re right, that personal connection is a big part of why so many readers came to think of Jonathan as a friend.
Thank you, Andrew, for this beautiful tribute as we remember Jonathan on the upcoming first anniversary. I “met” Jonathan and Humble Dollar in 2020 when I was going through my recently deceased husband’s emails. I am very grateful to him and to his family members, especially to you and Nicholas who have allowed us to know him better through your words.
Linda, thank you so much. It means a great deal to me that you discovered Jonathan and HumbleDollar during such a difficult time in your own life, and that his words have stayed with you. Nick and I have been grateful for the opportunity to share some of the Jonathan we knew as brothers. As this article taught me, though, there were so many different sides to him, and hearing from readers like you has helped us know him more completely as well.
Andrew – thank you for once again sharing your thoughts about Jonathan. It is safe to say that all of us (readers, writers and commentators) connected to HD carry a piece of him in our hearts.
Thank you, Jeff. I think that’s one of the things I’ve come to appreciate most while writing this article. Jonathan touched people in so many different ways, and each memory shared with me has added another piece to the brother I knew. It means a great deal to know that a piece of him continues to live on in the HumbleDollar community.
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