When the Masks Come Off

By G. E. Shuman

          I have noticed a few things as I’ve dutifully worn my face mask on those rare trips away from home lately. I’ve noticed that instead of getting strange looks from others if you enter a store with a face mask on, those without masks are getting the looks. Also, that you cannot easily tell a person’s mood when half of their face is covered. I miss seeing an approaching stranger in the grocery store aisle smile as they pass. That facial covering not only protects them, and me, from some airborne germ, it also masks our emotions. 

          My hope is that throughout this long fight and the terrible disruptions to lives that it has brought we have learned a few things.  I hope that this whole social distancing experiment has, perhaps, at least provided times of solitude, prayer, and reflection that are rarely afforded our fast-paced lives. That perhaps we have also become reacquainted with those special people who share our homes and who are supposed to share our hopes and dreams.

          I really hope we have learned that stocking up on food a bit may be an important type of bank account for our future, and that helping our neighbors is a wonderfully rewarding way to pass a few idle hours.

          If you have not yet done so another way to spend those hours is with a great book. Dust off one of those old classics from the hallway bookcase and see what you’ve been missing all these years. The old Bible that has been just a block of paper since some people’s moms took them to Sunday school years ago would be a good place to start.

          Also, remember to remember those ‘front line’ folks who carry on their duties in the hospitals, in the nursing homes, at the police departments, and within the cabs of long-haul trucks. Be thankful for the take-out foodservice and supermarket workers and the faithful teachers who are still trying to educate their students with only an internet connection as a classroom.

          Some things we used to do may have changed forever when that ‘old normal’ tries to return. We may never again embrace a casual friend in public or shake the hand of a total stranger when being introduced to them. To me, those changes would not necessarily be bad ones.

          We could also try to remember a lesson that many have learned in this time of isolation and forced solitude. That is to appreciate the small and simple things in life and to realize that even those are amazing and complex and that some of the best things in life aren’t things at all.  Years ago, I saw a bumper sticker that I will never forget. Its message simply stated: “Gratitude Is the Best Therapy.” That is a truth I will always cherish.

          Soon the stores and restaurants will reopen; people will once again be out and about, and the masks will come off. When this happens, remember to smile.

         

It is a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood!

By G. E. Shuman

          Today started out a bit differently for me, as if I can any longer tell what the word ‘differently’ means in referring to a day.

          Firstly, I slept in and was late getting to the living room. Ha. Did you get that? I am also wearing shorts today, because I have decided it is time to begin feeling normal again, and I’m not talking about what the news people refer to as the ‘new’ normal. I mean… normal. I’m going to do some outside spring cleaning; I’ll do some more raking, clean out the carport, leaf blow everything I can see to leaf blow on our property and maybe the neighbor’s, (I enjoy leaf blowing.) and then I’ll probably take a nap. Ho Hum. If I don’t get it all done today, there’s always tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. This stay at home order is so hard to take.

          My point is that I will, come heck or high water, make this day and the following ones as ‘usual’ as possible. My three-year-old granddaughter and I have started some seedlings growing, we did already get some raking done, and have also gone to the garage across the street to visit ‘Babi’, our antique VW bug. We’ll wake her up and get her polished up for summer very soon. (Babi doesn’t need to know about this coronavirus thing, so Nahla and I have decided to not tell her. No, no, no.)

          Not to seem too antisocial, which, admittedly, I probably am, this whole distancing idea bothers me less than it does many other people. I have never enjoyed hugging and handshaking. (I would make a lousy politician. I don’t even smile much; I have no idea why, but that doesn’t matter with my new mask on, and I only kiss the babies in our family.)

          I have never been much of a socializer, (pretty much the class wallflower at our high school proms,) and so not being with a hoard of people isn’t something that upsets me. I do miss my kids, grandkids, and great-granddaughters a lot and hope to be able to see them soon.

          Now, while I’m just teasing a bit, don’t tell me that you’re not at least a little like me. Don’t say you have never walked across the street to avoid running into some person or other on the sidewalk, thanking the Lord that they didn’t see you. If you haven’t done so I would bet you have at least thought about it. Just practice that with everybody for a while and you’re all set.

          I am one of those strange people who actually LIKES using the self-checkout aisles at Stuffmart and the supermarkets, uses the bank’s ATM whenever possible, and would rather purchase something online and find it on my back steps a few days later than to chat with a salesman in some store. In the ultimate but not new social distancing situation, the last few times we have bought cars my wife has gone to the dealership, (She loves to dicker and I hate it.) and called me to confirm the deal. I don’t really care about the details a lot if it’s a good deal, and if the car isn’t bright red. She is a wonderful woman!

          Here in Vermont the infection rate is very low. I’m sure that’s because we have been practicing social distancing for a few hundred years now. Northern New Englanders are just that way, and that standoffishness has probably saved lives from nasty bugs at least since the 1918 invasion of the Spanish flu. That was a nasty one.

          Note: Please don’t think that since I’m kind of a loner, that I don’t care about the suffering this terrible bug is causing. I truly do, and I’m trying to do what I can to help in my neighborhood.

          Still, I refuse to let this virus defeat me, and I think that you should not either. Think about these few facts. In our country the coronavirus survival rate is an astonishing 98.54 percent. As terrible as this virus is, it has, so far, killed fewer Americans than die most years of the ‘regular’ flu. Also, this thing has, as with other past challenges to our nation, brought out the very best in many of us. Daily news stories of courageous medical, law enforcement, and emergency services professionals make looking at the news worthwhile again, at least for me.

          Also, I just love the creative, wonderful acts of American citizens that I have heard about. People are making masks in their homes; school systems are delivering breakfasts and lunches to folks in need, using what would be idled school busses; churches are providing food and other aid to our citizens. All those actions, all those Americans, are just doing so much good!

          Our country is the greatest nation in the history of the world and that is because it is filled with the most optimistic, caring, and sharing people in the history of the world. I would never wish a pandemic on our people, but ever since it has come, I have gained a renewed faith in America, and in her indomitable spirit.

          If you have never read the anonymous, ancient poem Desiderata, please google it, and take it to heart. It finishes with the words: “With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful and strive to be happy.” Beginning today, that is what I intend to do.