Dear Future Grandchildren,
Look, we were having a tough year before the virus took over.
In early January, #WorldWarIII was trending for a week on Twitter after an American drone eliminated the second-most powerful man in Iran. The House of Representatives impeached President Trump. Australia went up in flames. The United Methodist Church announced plans to split over LGBTQ inclusion. The United Kingdom brexited the European Union, then Harry and Meghan mexited the United Kingdom. It was crazy!
Later in January, Iran shot down a Ukranian airliner, killing all 176 people on board. Residents of Hong Kong filled the city streets to protest Chinese government oppression. We were shocked when Kobe died. We also learned more than we should have about Harvey Weinstein’s habits behind closed doors. My beloved Houston Astros were caught and severely punished in a sign-stealing scandal involving the latest in cutting-edge video technology and, for some reason, a dugout trash can.
That whole time, something called coronavirus was showing up on social media and in the news. We all thought it looked bad at first, but not that bad. “I heard it’s not as bad as the flu” we said, “so let’s not overreact. It’s no big deal.”
OK, so it was a pretty big deal. As of this moment, more than thirteen million people have been infected, nearly six hundred-thousand have died, and there is no sign of this thing slowing down anytime soon. Hopefully, by the time you’re reading this, a flawless vaccine has been distributed to every corner of the earth, but right now everything feels dystopian. City streets are mostly empty, office buildings are vacant, and more businesses are closing every day. Brooks Brothers just filed for bankruptcy, leaving Episcopalian men across America with nothing new to wear to church, which is okay because most churches haven’t been able to meet in person for eighteen weeks and counting. After spending most of our careers rolling our eyes at televangelists, every pastor across America has suddenly been forced to become one.
Everybody is angry about toilet paper and face masks. Unemployment has skyrocketed to numbers not seen since the Great Depression. All the schools closed in early March, leaving parents to figure out how to work from home and how to look decent on Zoom while also mastering the art of homeschooling. Loneliness, anxiety, depression, and suicide are all on the rise. Social workers are sounding the alarms about abused kids being forced to spend more time at home where most of their abuse occurs.
It has been my experience that, in times of great distress, people take solace in sports and entertainment, but COVID-19 took most of that away, too. March Madness, the NBA, Major League Baseball, the Masters, and the Summer Olympics have all been cancelled or delayed.
Hollywood shut down too, as well as most movie theaters. The cinemas that remained open are now showing the greatest hits of the 1980s that we’ve all seen a hundred times, so instead of going to the movies everybody is staying home and watching something called Tiger King on Netflix, which serves only to multiply our shame.
We were just beginning to recover from being sucker-punched by COVID-19 when we first heard George Floyd crying out for his mama as a Minneapolis police officer pressed the life out of him. Since you’re reading this many years from now, you won’t remember the surreal chain of events that one cop’s left knee set into motion. Approximately twenty million Americans took part in peaceful protests – as well as some not-so-peaceful rioting and looting – in over 2,000 cities and towns throughout the nation. More than fourteen thousand protesters were arrested, and at least twenty-six people died, along with hundreds more who were injured, when some of the demonstrations turned violent.
The escalation of tensions did yield some positive results, as police departments all over the country are adjusting their standard operating procedures to help ensure the safety and dignity of all people. It remains to be seen, however, if these ends will justify their violent and divisive means.
And now we’re all preparing ourselves for a presidential election. By the time you’re reading this, Americans will either have chosen a 74-year old man who can’t get off Twitter or a 77-year old man who can’t complete a sentence without a script, or maybe some other crazy thing has happened. There’s a chance we elected a rapper named Kanye West, for which I’d like to retroactively apologize. Whatever the case, I know that election season brings out the worst in people, and our emotional resources are already depleted so I have no idea what’s about to happen.
Finally, we were invaded by Murder Hornets, and yesterday in Colorado they diagnosed a squirrel with Bubonic Plague. So, sweet grandchildren, I say this with all the love in my heart: no matter what problems you may be facing, if you weren’t alive in 2020, you don’t get to complain about anything. Ever.
Love, Grandpa.
Originally shared Friday, July 17, 2020.
