A friend suggested I submit this photo to Together Alone. It’s from yesterday, waiting for a flat tire repair at Highway 92 Service Station. I waited with my quarantine buddy, who took the photo.
We were the only two in masks, which is unsurprising, as there are many people who don’t wear masks around here; and many who believe this is a matter of preserving freedom as Americans. There is a fear associated with the very fact of distancing rules, mask-wearing, schools closing, businesses on hold, and stay-at-home orders.
One establishment wrote: “The idea of compelling someone against their will to do something for the ‘hypothetical them’ is repugnant to a free society.” Some believe it’s communism. Others feel like this may be why they’ve been assembling an arsenal all these years; to defend their families, along with our liberty—yes, maybe even the liberty of mask-wearing commie liberals. Most all have good hearts. Because the virus is not obvious here—we can’t see it—it doesn’t seem real.
While I continue to wear my mask, sterilize everything, and wash my hands a lot, I sometimes find my own mind has gone complacent. It is used to this routine—this new normal—but it doesn’t understand why. Haven’t we been doing this for weeks now? Then I remember... yes, I remember, why. It’s still coming, a glacially slow and heavy tide. Invisible, and everywhere.
I’m fascinated by the strangeness of the masked and the unmasked, and how we interact in this uncertain time. The bemused, curious—and sometimes even pitying?—looks I get from those not wearing masks (never mind goggles). One woman very kindly allowed me through a door ahead of her, saying “you first, dear” in a tender tone. I believe she felt I was afraid and frail.
Sometimes there is a trace of fear in the face or body of a person I’m interacting with, as they look at me, from a safe distance. Sometimes the looks I get are simply blank, like at the Service Station. Despite my cheerful tone, I present an inscrutable—if colorful—blank with my covered face. Is my tone overly cheerful? I try to make up for my smile being hidden. Maybe so... The unmasked manager looked blankly back, a bit poker faced, and a little bit nervous or unsure… it seemed.
There’s comfort in seeing others with masks, distancing, linked visibly, together, alone. Masks or none, we're all together, alone.