Musing on Masks
by Joan Rose
LW contributor
I really never thought that I would be living in an age where most of the people you see on the street look like they belong to the Dalton gang. Because of COVID, face masks are now not only popular but mandatory. So everyone creeps around wearing their masks, showing only a worried look in their eyes while trying not to come within spitting distance of one another because we know that abiding by these new rules may save our lives. The only accessories missing from our outfits are spurs, low slung gun belts and cowboy hats.
It’s a hard time we are going through and who knows if we will ever be able to go back to our normal way, with no masks and with visible smiles on our faces. But for now, masks are in and I cannot fathom why they seem to be an arguable point with some people. Wear a mask, save your life—don’t wear a mask, take an awful chance. Seems simple to me.
I had to go to the Optum Health Care Center for my monthly finger stick this morning, so I drove to the nearly deserted parking lot, parked, donned my mask and ventured inside. What a shock. Optum is apparently revamping all its rooms, and construction is going on at full tilt. Tarps are hanging from the ceiling, the rugs are ripped up, and there are muffled sounds of hammers and electric saws coming from the back. The Health Care Center seemed fine the way it was, but not being consulted about the reconstruction, of course, I could only guess at their reasons for the change.
Right inside the door, I was met by an Optum team member, dressed in blue and wearing a mask and face guard. She gently held a temperature gauge to my forehead and since she did not gasp and throw me in a wheel chair, I assumed that I did not have a temperature.
Then she asked, “Ot twer rodum tu stemllt?”
No, she was not speaking in a foreign language. Being a little hard of hearing, I could not understand what she said through the mask, but I assumed that she was asking if I had any COVID symptoms.
I smiled through my mask (a smile which she could not see, of course) and I said, “No, I am fine; no symptoms.”
I was relieved to see that this answer apparently satisfied her, and she motioned for me to sit down in a well-spaced chair, which I did.
The rest of the visit went fine; the nurse came out and motioned me into a small examination room, she tested my blood and pronounced me fit to venture forth for another month.
Then I got into my car and drove to my bank which was another interesting COVID-19 adventure.
I parked in front of the bank, put on my mask and walked to the door.
A masked policeman was outside the door, and I discovered that his function was to let only six people in at a time. Fortunately, it was early, so he ushered me right in. Once I was inside, a masked lady in a blue smock came over to me and said, “Ot twer rodum tu stemlt?”
Again, I assumed she was asking how I felt, and I told her that I was fine. Then she pointed to the painted yellow footprints on the floor that were leading up to the tellers’ cages. I dutifully went and put my feet on the first two available footprints, and I felt like Dorothy, happily following the yellow brick road.
No, Dorothy, we aren’t in Kansas anymore, but I’m sure the good people of Kansas are going through the very same thing that we are.
There were only four teller cages open, and the masked tellers were busily helping their customers.
So I stood and waited. While waiting, I noticed a little girl sitting by one of the cages, and she wore no mask. I saw that she had a mask, but it was hanging around her neck.
She smiled at me through missing teeth and I thought gloomily, “I wonder if she has the virus.”
Her mother was standing nearby and was apparently oblivious to her daughter’s serious infraction.
I wanted to march right over to them and correct the situation. However, before I could react, it became my turn to approach the teller’s cage.
I simply wanted to deposit some checks, so I handed the teller the checks, deposit slip and my driver’s license and prayed that she would not talk to me through her mask. She began to process the checks and I was sorely disappointed when I realized thatshewantedtochat. She said, “Wu twy lso wky us tday?” I assumed she was asking how my day was going, and I said, “Just fine, thank you.”
She crinkled her eyes (which I assumed meant she was smiling) and she said, “Ist mein yerg doy brts goig?” Stumped, I finally said,“Justfine,thankyou.” She crinkled again and handed me myreceipts. Ileftquickly,got in my car, tore off my mask and drove home.
How I long for the good old days when we weren’t paranoid, we didn’t have to wear masks and we could easily mix and visit with other people without fear. How I hope that those golden days will return to us soon.
I miss my kids, my grandkids and friends. We are all strangers wandering in a strange land right now, but if we honor the new rules, I know that we will get through this.
Dorothy would agree.
