Journal of the Plague Year 7

For almost fifteen months now I have donned a mask whenever I stepped out of my door: when I carried the garbage bags to the building dumpster or brought the recyclables to the designated  containers; when I answered the apartment entrance door when buzzed by masked Federal Express, United Parcel Service or Amazon workers delivering some thing I had ordered because I would not venture out to a store for any necessary item when it could be had by delivery without having to leave home; when at the supermarkets, the doctor’s office, along the streets where I lived and along the paths that I walked twice daily; when anyone knocked on my door I answered only if they were masked, and if a serious repair became necessary then the worker could not enter unless wearing a mask. Companies advertised their safety cautions as selling points. Though outside of our homes we wore masks, we nevertheless were also required to maintain social distancing measured in six feet increments. In every store the floor had been marked out in six feet increments to ensure proper degree of separation. Even the sidewalks outside establishments were suitably measured out in requisite six-feet increments because admittance to any store was by law controlled to a delineated population. Suspicion remained paramount: despite the masks of those we passed we wondered, do they “have it?” When we spoke to each other it was from behind and through masks. Nothing remained clear. I remember growing up watching the television shows The Lone Ranger and Zorro and wondered aloud, “Who was that masked man?” I’m still wondering. Once in the early days of the pandemic when I shopped during the hour reserved for older folks a masked woman passed me in an aisle and said even with some cheer, “Hello, Alan,” but I did not recognize the top of her face nor her voice and I was loathe to approach any closer to engage in a conversation that might allow me to better identify her but which proximity might lead to infection. I answered her ‘hello’ and moved on.
     I watch school children at school bus stops and on the playgrounds all wearing masks. They play the normal games, but all is not at all normal. A group of five-year-old sit in the sandboxes; all are masked. They sit and play calmly as if nothing is amiss, but something is unquestionably amiss. I consider that some of these children who had recently begun school have not ever seen the whole face of their classmates. What must they be thinking?
     Once people hung foam dice and crosses and other memorable paraphernalia from the rearview mirrors of their car. Now masks hang there ready for a quick turn into a Starbucks coffee house or to pick up shirts at the cleaners. I keep a supply of masks handy in my glove department but actually I don’t leave my house without a mask and so have never had need of the surplus supply. At the beginning of the pandemic when masks were in short supply individuals organized to make masks for the communities, but now masks have become big business and cloth covers come in a variety of fabrics and patterns. Companies even put their logos on masks! I wonder if certain masks will become collector items the way certain t-shirts have become more collectable and valuable as investments over time.
     Masks now litter the sidewalks and roadways. I suppose people just rip the mask off and toss it down when it gets in the way of an unplanned intimacy or if the mast just becomes too uncomfortable to wear in the first place. In colder weathers condensation rendered the masks soggy and snotty, and during the warmer months they become heavy with sweat. Masks acquire odor. I do not know which masks, if any, are biodegradable, but I imagine that when our civilization is dug up by archaeologists, they will uncover our face coverings as one resource for understanding thisr plague year.
     What will it be like when we will begin to go about without masks again. When again our faces will be all exposed I wonder what it is that we will see: will there be relief or fear in the visage? Will there be a heightened recognition of the times through which we lived or a forgetfulness of it all. We will never be normal again, but then, what will be normal life?