To Wear or Not to Wear, That Is the Question

Thirty-eight years ago, several members of my family and I were invited to a neighbor’s sixty-fifth birthday dinner. It was during the month of February, a day or so after a crippling blizzard. But navigating the slippery spots and mounds of shoveled snow were a piece of cake for all concerned in those days of yore—not the case anymore for those of us still among the living. As I vividly recall, the birthday boy suffered from a bad cold that night and was hacking away while he performed the honors of slicing up the roast beef main course.

Long before the cough-a-thon, I was leery about eating there. You see, the dining room hosting the celebration was in a basement, one notorious for its greasy build-up and a cat who made himself home in every nook and cranny, including the dining room table, the feline’s favorite napping spot. Looking back on that night to remember, the Man of the Hour would have done us all a favor by donning a face mask.

Fast forward to the present: Just moments ago, as a matter of fact. I gazed out my front door and spied a passerby. She was double-masked, which is, of course, her divine right. This sighting on a pleasant spring day nonetheless got me thinking. Thinking about masks and the Shakespearean dilemma of the moment: To wear or not to wear, that is the question.

Yesterday, on the busy streets of Manhattan, I observed for the first time in a long time—since COVID-19 first reared its ugly head—that many people were walking the streets without face coverings. Despite the evidence being evident, if you will, for quite a while now, the greenlighting from the powers-that-be apparently greased the skids. The vaccinated minions had a scientific imprimatur of sorts to stroll about unmasked—with their heads held high—the highways and byways of the big city. One, though, could feel the extremists on both sides of the mask issue digging their heels ever deeper.

While I have no evidence to support this opinion—only a gut feeling—I would hazard a guess that the woman who just passed by my front door believes that those who have shed their masks so freely—in the great outdoors mind you—are irresponsible, selfish, potential grandma killers. On the other hand, she could have some underlying health issues that make double mask-wearing in the bright light of day very understandable.

Riding the subway yesterday—where mask-wearing is rightly still mandatory—most passengers were compliant, but there were a few exceptions. In this corner are the mask-wearing extremists, and in that other one, the no-mask-wearing extremists, even in crowded, closed indoor venues like subway cars. For too many folks to count the mask is now a symbol—ridiculous virtue signaling. Are you one of us or one of them? This is completely asinine. The Age of Reason is a distant memory. We get lectured nowadays on a recurring basis by late-night comedians and cable TV talk show hosts, who clearly know right from wrong better than the rest of us.

A final thought on my Manhattan amble. I encountered a couple of public service announcements along the way concerning the upcoming Democratic primary for mayor. There are nine candidates in the race and we have “ranked choice voting” this year. Voters can rank—in order of preference—up to five candidates. Only four merit any kind of rank in my estimation and I haven’t yet figured out the order. The remaining five, I feel, have platforms better suited for CHAZ than New York City.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)