Sending a Signal

Demanding your rights without accepting responsibilities is not freedom.... it's adolescence.

I'm considering making a batch of t-shirts with that inscribed above a stronger admonition:

Wear a Damn Mask.\

I had to drop two boxes off inside the post office today.  Sister tells tales of  New Jersey's post offices filled with masked marauders; that was certainly not the scene at the Oro Valley post office today.  The sign on the door was clear - PLEASE maintain your distance.   PLEASE Ten (10) patrons inside at one time.

Signage is wonderful.  But it only goes so far.  The paper has no power of enforcement, and there was no one around to see to it that the patrons adhered to the  PLEASEs.  Only one other patron was wearing a mask, and she was using a walker and looked like a poster child for Vulnerable Individual.  She and I were surrounded by 15 or so unmasked patrons standing maybe 3 feet from one another in a line that didn't seem to be moving at all.

I took my disinfectant wipe and used it to push the buttons on the self-service machine and to pull the door handle as I went out to affix the postage and then went back in with my wipe to push the boxes through the giant slot.  All told, I don't think I was in there more than 2 or 3 minutes.

I left the guinea pigs to wallow in their petrie dish and went to the bread store, where, once again, social distancing and protective equipment were fantasies from the life that I, alone, seemed to be living.  Two families, each a dad and two latency age kids, were in the store.  The standing area of the store is about as big as my kitchen.  If you consider the counters on two sides and the display table in the middle, 6 people, with or without masks, is a social distancing nightmare.  And, of course, only I was wearing a mask.

I waited for the first family to leave before I went in.  I said No, thank you to the dad who thought that chivalry demanded that he hold the door for an old lady.  I wanted no part of brushing past him to pick up my ciabbata.  Wear a damn mask!

Having called ahead to place my order, I left the second family to their dithering (don't they know they are not supposed to browse?) and traded my dollars for the pre-sliced-and-waiting loaf the masked saleskid passed over the counter.  I was in there for 30 seconds at the most.

I don't understand the reluctance to wear a mask.  It's good hygiene.  It's thoughtful.  It's respectful. And, as a friend noted, it sends a signal that I am ready to reopen the world, the world which is very different now, the world which will require us to change some behaviors if we are to move forward together.  I'm wearing a mask and that says that it's time to recognize the necessities and to arm ourselves accordingly.

I'm wearing a mask.  I'm sending a signal.