Living Undercover—COVID-19 Masks

For the next hundred years, say “2020” and everyone’s first thought will be the same: COVID-19.

The word evokes the collective experience of those lucky enough to have survived it—Worry, depression, loneliness. Overwhelmed, we watched the news, full of dismal tidings edging around the pandemic: Black Lives Matter marches, hijacked by rioters and looters; horrific wildfires and destructive hurricanes and flooding; Politics that reached new lows.

In its midst, we want to turn it off, get up and go . . . somewhere, anywhere . . . to escape. But first, where did I put that mask? It’s ironic that the top-rated television show of 2020 is the Masked Singer. How appropriate. Our heroes used to be veterans and Olympians. They still are, but front-line workers are our new champions: clerks, custodians, deliverymen, waitresses, bus drivers. Those who rarely got a nod of thanks now don masks and put themselves in jeopardy to help others. They may not want to or like wearing a mask for eight hours, but they do it.

It may just be self-protection, or job preservation, but it is a responsibility to protect ourselves and others. The CDC and World Health Organization say cloth facemasks are a critical tool in the fight against COVID spread. Of course, you have to wear it correctly. Over your mouth and your nose.

Recently, while waiting for a takeout order, I could see the short-order cook wearing his mask incorrectly. While not lacking sympathy, he was hovering over my food, his nose uncovered. Through my smiley-face mask, I complained. Five minutes later, when the cook’s mask was lowered below his chin, I complained again. Ten minutes after that, someone spoke to him. When I received my order, I was given a $10 gift card “for my patience.” Figure I’ll use it, since I did survive the meal.

In addition to universal discomfort, there are differences of opinion about how effective masks are. Cloth masks create a barrier between your mouth and nose and those around you. This makes it difficult for the droplets that spread the virus through coughs, sneezes, talking and singing. Cloth masks are easily washable and rarely end up as litter, which paper masks do.

In the beginning, it was hard to find masks. Like many of my acquaintances, I made them for friends and family who had none. A quilter, I had amassed a variety of fabrics. I ran out of elastic and so did every store in the county. Many of my friends were sewing up a storm, making masks for frontline workers and even employees in medical and retirement facilities. We found a multitude of patterns online. Now, you can spend up to fifteen dollars for a custom mask promoting your favorite team, hobby or political candidate.

While we clamored to find masks, many refused to wear one, claiming it violated their civil rights to be told they had to. Masks arouse considerable dissention. How effective are they? Which ones are best? Multiple myths arose. Some think added resistance to air flow limits oxygen intake, but this is not a problem unless one has an underlying respiratory condition.

Many think cloth masks are not effective at all. Experts say they are highly so for the general public, those not working in a medical environment. I don’t need to take up scarce surgical masks or N95 Respirators. These are critical for health care workers. Living in a community with major hospitals, UF Shands, VA and North Florida Regional Medical Center, I see friends leaving their families to serve an at-risk population, and yes, ministering to COVID patients. My late husband was a first responder. Their job entails far more exposure to danger from medical runs than fighting fires.

I have otherwise intelligent friends who think if they’re asymptomatic, they needn’t wear a mask. Other friends think “Oh, I’m not at risk.” My brother declined an invitation to the neighbor’s pool party and dumped the lovely food they brought over. A good thing, considering within days the entire extended family were diagnosed with COVID-19.

Studies show asymptomatic carriers can increase the disease’s spread if they aren’t taking proper precautions, including wearing a mask and social distancing.

Because of differing opinions on that issue, I failed the dating game. Among other things, I refused to spend weekends at his beach house with his son, the girlfriend, her mom, her dad, her grandfather . . . all nice people, sociable people. I almost wished they’d get it, then prayed for forgiveness and for their health.

I now understand “COVID shaming,” a popular social put down that’s cropped up on social media, like the guy screaming in capital letters on Facebook that he wasn’t going to wear a face mask, then within months, posting he’d tested positive for COVID. Weeks later, family members announced his death. Hundreds of ha-ha laughing face emojis responded, along with critical “serves him right” comments.

I miss live time with my friends and loved ones and a sense of normalcy. I do see the unmasked faces of fellow members of the Writers Alliance on our weekly Zoom meetings, but it lacks the warmth of live meetings. Work with children at the Florida Museum has stopped. There will be no live classes or school tours for the rest of the school year. Missing live worship, I broke down and attended a nearby church requiring pre-registration and masks. Once I entered the sanctuary, I saw no more than one other mask wearer among the singing congregation—Back to online worship until my own church reopens!

A formerly avid ballroom dancer, I once danced three times a week. Classes have resumed for couples and dances are held for those who agree to having their temperatures taken at the door. No problem. But dancing in other people’s arms, even with a mask, seems like tempting fate.

So what do we do? Being outside s generally considered safer than being inside. Even in normal times, I found getting my hands in the dirt to be therapeutic. My garden has never looked so beautiful. Biking and walking are great outdoor exercise and have allowed me to meet a lot of families and dogs in my neighborhood. At this time, when taking a stroll or participating in other outdoor activities by yourself or with people you live with, a mask isn’t required. I’ve also found a lot of outdoor dining venues I enjoy with friends. Masks are a good idea here, but kind of hard to wear a mask and eat, so take-out and dining on the porch makes a nice venue.

Finding help from our leaders is futile. Our own state governor, Ron DeSantis was the first to open beaches. In September, he reopened bars and restaurants at full capacity. This, despite Florida’s continuing rise in cases and deaths. The president mostly refused to wear a mask and even accused one reporter of being “politically correct” for declining to take off his mask to ask a question. He continually belittled his opponent Joe Biden for wearing a mask leading up to the November election and continued to hold densely packed rallies where most supporters are not wearing masks until he contracted the virus himself, bringing COVID shaming—and political vitriol—to a new low.

There are a hodgepodge of city and county ordinances regarding mask requirements. Causing some confusion, the governor said that moving into Phase 3 of reopening in the last week of September, the collection of fines and penalties for violating rules would stop.

Local rules vary from city to city, county to county, and business to business. For a while, most of the latter required masks for entry. There were Xs on the floor outside and inside my local Publix and employees counting entrants, while they cleaned grocery carts. The Xs are gone now, and about half of the shoppers I see are not wearing masks. Maybe because last week there was an incident where a gun-wearing shopper refused to wear a mask. He became so rowdy, police were called to the scene.

The coronavirus is projected to kill more than 400,000 Americans by the end of this year.

Most of us, by now, know or know of someone who has contracted it. A sweet friend, a local chaplain. Friends Tom and Angie’s brothers. My friend David’s brother-in-law. (Several of these did not survive.)

I am not in the medical field. I hold no leadership position. So what can I do? I CAN WEAR A MASK AND SOCIAL DISTANCE. It requires some sacrifice and some discomfort. I can pray for the researchers, for the victims of the virus and their families, for discernment for mayors, governors and the president, and for those on the front line. I can show them my appreciation by wearing my mask. So can you.

Note: This article was written for the Matheson Museum COVID 19 Project.