To Wear, Or Not Wear A Mask
Something switched last week — I felt an ease in the air, the sun was out — making me feel like a new day was here and there was a change on the horizon. For what felt like ages, it finally seemed like the virus was taking a small step back. Even our beloved president questioned the official number of coronavirus deaths as being lower than they actually are; how amazing is that, wonderful! (I wish I knew how to golf.)
I also noticed a second wind of positivity when I took Jackson out for a walk in my neighborhood last week. People jogging past us with determined looks on their faces to stay healthy, and I could see them because they had no masks on. Because you know: you really can run away from reality.
(Hmmm, wait second.)
They galavanted over the homeless and pretended not to see the block-after-block of block-long encampments full of people who are desperately in need of safe shelter.
OK, the cocktails wearing off; the ice has melted.
Saturday, I gasped when I read in Mission Local that there are 122 new cases of COVID-19 and 3 deaths in San Francisco. I felt my heart sink to the floor when I saw the cover of the Sunday edition of The New York Times — dedicating the entire front page to those we’ve lost. And then I got mad, really mad, at seeing the images of people sitting in pre-drawn circles at Dolores Park (many I know), enjoying the sunshine — again, without masks.
And, gosh, it’s been so windy lately. (Could you imagine coughing in a breeze?)
It’s a great privilege to be able to walk out your door and say to the world “you can’t tell me what to do, I am not afraid of this, and, I don’t (think) I have it.” When I see people walking in our city without a face covering, it tells me that they don’t know anyone who has suffered through COVID-19 and, therefore, don’t give a fuck about the most vulnerable among us.
As we look towards the rest of 2020, I don’t see many things “as normal’, as one would hope. I have a feeling the things that make up (no pun intended) my lively hood will still be closed, may of those being are our meeting places — the bars, dance floors, and nightclubs. These spaces have long been safe havens for the community. Places where we have dreamt of freedom, planned marches, and started riots. We’ve been entertained, danced, and fallen in love.
Experts say that this winter could bring an even more devastating wave of the coronavirus. Those cold, dark months seem so far away. Now is the time to change our patterns. To learn to adapt to new ways of communicating and interacting. So many of my friends are playing by the rules and taking steps towards excepting different ways to communicate. As great as that is — it’s creating other much deeper issues; such as continuous bouts of depression, anxiety, and loneliness.
I’ve said this before and will say it again: I am one of those people that fall into the susceptible categories and would struggle to survive COVID-19. So, yea, I’m annoyed.
But for now, take a look at these photos of some of the fabulous masks I’ve enjoyed making for myself. The same ones that are protecting me, and those I love and care about. And, by demand below are JM! masks available on my website.
