Masks now essential part of pandemic wardrobe
I suppose it was only a matter of time, right?
So, now all you folks out there who swore you were not going to wear a face mask in public are going to have to figure out how to procure one. Then, after you have ranted and raved long enough about our freedoms being stripped one by one during this crazy pandemic, you will tie one on — the mask, that is — and hopefully not made from your favorite T-shirt.
That’s because you now have no choice in the matter if you want to go to your grocery store and not be denied access, which could create a huge embarrassment to your family who have been telling you for weeks this day was coming.
Hey, I know what you’re thinking. And I feel your pain.
I resisted wearing a mask for a long time as well. With good reason since even the experts were sending out mixed messages at best, and even conflicting messages about their effectiveness, before finally settling into one unified dictate that face masks are absolutely necessary in order for us to bend curves, even if it also means bending our free will as we try to get our lives back to some kind of normalcy.
Now the powers that be are not only suggesting masks can save the planet, they demand that we put some sort of face covering over our noses and mouths when we venture out in public and can’t be assured of staying at least 6 feet from everyone else who is out in public trying to do the same thing.
WARNING: For those who have never put a face mask on, be prepared to hate it. My first experience was with an N95 plastered to my face when I ventured into Hesed House, the Aurora, Ill. homeless shelter that had a few confirmed coronavirus cases.
I was OK for about 10 to 15 minutes, at which time something akin to claustrophobia started taking over. And although I managed to hang in there for the duration of a whole 90 minutes or so, I came away with a great story and newfound appreciation for those front-liners who have to wear protective gear every time they go to work.
Since then, I’ve ever so gradually come around to the notion that the face mask now must be part of my public-pandemic wardrobe, which I have to admit has grown far more slovenly in the last month since hair-washing and fitted pants have become mere options.
But this masked move has come gradually.
I have to admit the first time I donned a surgical mask to enter a store, I was not even halfway down the first aisle before I ripped it off, not so much from discomfort, but from scoping out how many other shoppers were also wearing one and deciding I was definitely in the minority.
A week later, I actually sat in my car for a good five minutes taking a count of the masked and unmasked walking through the doors before reluctantly strapping one on to buy my veggies and ice cream.
Law enforcement, too, is struggling with this new mandate, not because they don’t see the value in masks but because they aren’t quite sure what to do with it.
“It’s hard to enforce something that’s not a law,” noted Aurora Police Department spokesman Paris Lewbel when we spoke just hours after the governor announced an extension of the shelter in place order that included the dictate on masks in public.
“There are a lot of questions about what this means,” he added.
Rest assured, the APD will be in plenty of talks with other local, regional and statewide law enforcement agencies on how to proceed. Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot has already said her department won’t make arrests. And certainly Aurora police have a lot more on their plates these days than throwing handcuffs on the retired Vietnam vet who doesn’t want the freedoms he fought hard to protect taken away or the former hippie turned shop owner whose watching his business die on the vine and is just plain upset.
Cops will figure it out, especially as more details are released in the coming days from the governor’s office about all the new rules that are extending our social-distancing through May. But I suspect the enforcement of this new mandate will have more to do with the court of public opinion than the threat of handcuffs.
It was only a couple weeks ago — a lifetime in COVID-19 talk — that some jerk in a backward baseball hat made obnoxious comments to my masked daughter-in-law as she stood at the meat counter. Now, I suspect, the shoe will be on the other foot and it will be the uncovered who get the sharp looks, obscene gestures and public ridicule when they venture out of their homes.
Of course, the big question is, what is public? Walking the dog allows you to keep that critical 6 feet of distance, for example, except when Shep insists on getting extra friendly with the mutt on the other side of the street.
And what about that run — brisk walk, slow stroll, whatever — you look forward to every day, the one that allows you to breathe a little fresh air that’s, unfortunately, about to mingle with the fresh air being breathed by that masked jogger coming at you who you are pretty sure has a cell phone primed and ready to do some Facebook shaming.
Humiliation might work. But I prefer inspiration.
West Aurora High School student Grace Bernal, who was featured recently on these pages, stopped making masks and passing them out for free in front of her North Aurora, Ill. home after becoming inundated with requests. But she’s back at it again, says mom Jen, and likely will be busier than ever since Thursday’s announcement.
Her goal is to have 1,700 masks made by the time she turns 17 in mid-May.
“Patience,” the scientists and medical folks and politicians tell us as we continue looking for ways to fight off depression and bankruptcy and divorce and 20 extra pounds. “We’re all in this together.”
Face it: That now includes a mask.