An Open Letter To My Daughter
I love you very much, and so I am writing you this letter to try to make some sense of the bizarre and unexpected results from this November. I know that you must be frightened and confused right now, and frankly, I am too. No matter how dark the days ahead get, you will always have me, and I will always do my best for you. I hope together we can make some sense of it all.
If there is one thing that I feel guilty about, it is that I set false expectations for you. I believed the world had changed. I believed that the generations of frustration would end for you and for me and for everyone. I told you that things would be different this year. I was wrong and I am sorry.
I know that the present order has existed since long before you were born. In fact, it's been going on since long before I was born. It wouldn't be easy to change. But this year began with such promise. I wasn't alone in thinking it was the beginning of an unprecedented new era. I was especially excited that you, a young woman, would get to experience a level of possibility that my generation had never known before. In October we were sure that our dream was in our grasp. Then November came.
No one expected the collapse of the Minnesota Vikings after they became the only NFL team to start the 2017 season 5-0. Coach Zimmer had the defense playing at a level unseen since the Purple People Eaters. The Packers were in decline. Then November happened and we learned that this group of Minnesota Vikings were the same bunch of choking losers that all Minnesota Vikings have been for over fifty years. They found a way to disappoint this year, as they find a way to disappoint every year.
Dear daughter, this year's Vikings team will not win the Super Bowl. Again. But sometime in your lifetime a Vikings team may. The Chicago Cubs went 108 years without winning a championship before winning the World Series this year. If the Vikes can match their success, you should see a title sometime in your seventies.