We heard a lot this election cycle about an affordability crisis, with some pundits concluding that the American Dream is out of reach for Gen Z. Having two 20-something sons, I dutifully read the op-eds and listened to the online experts, hoping to learn some tips for my boys on their journey through life. As interesting as the facts, figures, graphs and charts were—outlining some of the unique challenges young people face today in terms of college debt, first jobs, A.I. disruption, marriage, and home ownership—I found little in the way of advice to pass on to my sons.

Being “experts” possessed of special knowledge, most of the pundits offered solutions that (of course) involved their area of specialty. Economists focused on tweaking the tax structure and building investment incentives. Social scientists talked about structural inequalities. Free-market advocates would let supply and demand work its magic, and socialists advocated government intervention and ownership.

Perhaps some of these ideas might work, if actually implemented and carefully measured, but given human nature and the nature of our government today, the new arrangements would likely benefit new levels of bureaucracy and special-interest lobbyists yet have minimal positive effects on the larger population.

“OK, Boomer!” I can hear someone say. “You’re not looking for solutions because you got your stuff. Now how about us?”

Yes, I am of that generation which is now being called selfish. I recently read an impassioned article in a conservative outlet telling my cohort to stop criticizing Gen Z, calling them lazy and entitled, and start sharing our benefits with them. After all, Boomers are the richest generation in world history, so it is immoral to say we worked hard to get where we are and now intend to spend on ourselves and enjoy life.

True, that mindset may describe a few Boomers I know, but the majority of folks in my group are weighing each purchase; hoping their retirement fund doesn’t get wiped out by the market, the socialists or an A.I. scam; and trying to calculate when to retire, take Social Security and downsize. And all the while, they are helping their adult children pay off college loans, navigate the difficult economy and job market, open bedrooms or basements for long or short stays, and offer advice from their own experiences that too many experts claim does not apply to the wholly new and totally unique circumstances of today.

Are we really the bad guys?

One bit of insight I have shared with my sons came up by apparent chance on YouTube when I was searching for a song from the 1960s. The meme was written purportedly by a Gen Zer and read, to paraphrase: I don’t have everything I want yet. But I have more than I did last year. And I will do everything I can to make sure I have more than that next year. That’s called growth.”

Yes, I thought. That’s how everyone used to think, from my immigrant grandparents, to my post-war parents, to me and my fellow Boomers. At least Boomers who didn’t buy into the solipsistic excesses of the Me Generation. Somewhere along the line, we lost the idea of personal improvement leading to personal growth and gradual material success. Maybe it was the Great Society’s promise of everyone having a piece of the American Dream and the imperfect programs implemented to make that happen. Or more likely it is the expectation of instant satisfaction brought about by our social media and online lives.

Our web connections give the illusion of a cohesive, uniform society, and when we see other people we really don’t know making it big and living large, we think we deserve the same. Rather than “a chicken in every pot” promise of the Depression era, we have a smart phone in every pocket. With access to endless knowledge and all-engaging dopamine hits, there is a sense of you-can-have-it-all affluence that makes the wise ways of earlier generations seem ancient and senseless.

Yet the deeper reality is that in every generation, we are tempted to chase the wrong American Dream. There’s nothing wrong with wanting physical comfort, economic security and nice things. But to pursue these without building a foundation of personal virtue always proves useless, and leads to delusion. If we set our sights solely on the material, we will never be satisfied and always feel vulnerable to a loss of stuff and status.

This is the message my wife and I raised our sons on—and it holds true no matter what letter is attached to your Gen.

Brian Caulfield, not yet retired, writes from Virginia.