Why I’m wearing a mask

I have stayed pretty isolated for the past two months, having human contact a total of four times. So, Tuesday, I set out to move from Pharr, Texas to Sun Meadow in Idaho for the summer. I’m anxious to get “home.”

I got as far as Del Rio, TX on Tuesday night, nearly 350 miles. I put on my mask and went in to register at the Hidden Valley RV Park. Nice place. When I walked in, the park host said, “Oh, you don’t need to wear that here. We don’t wear them.” I declined the offer. During my tour and assignment of a lovely parking spot, surrounded by privacy fence so that if I’d chosen, I could have gone naked—which is about the only way I’d be comfortable in the 106 degree heat—she went on to say they had no active cases in the area and were open for business.

The next day, after a 450-mile drive, I arrived at the Western Sky’s RV Park in Vado, New Mexico (just outside Las Cruces). Large illuminated signs at the border announced that masks are required in New Mexico. I put mine on to go register and neither the host nor the previous guest were wearing a mask. I kept mine on and was pleased that even though the park is not as fancy as the night before, the temperature was 20 degrees cooler.

In Santa Fe, the Los Pinos RV Park didn’t have an office open at all. A guy came around to the site to collect the money and give me a receipt. No mask. I did.

By contrast, the KOA Kampground in Colorado City/Pueblo South to care of the entire transaction over the phone. When I pulled into the campground, I went to a walk-up window where a masked attendant had me sign the receipt for the credit card transaction and pointed in the direction of my site. Guy on a four-wheeler led me there, held up his hands when I was in the right position, and left.

Now, I’m in Wheatland, WY at the Mountain View RV Park. Yes, there is a mountain view, if you put yourself in the right place. The unmasked host stepped out of her trailer to greet me from several feet away. Pointed to the slot I was assigned and told me to fill in a registration card in the laundry room. The registration was quick and easy and I shoved the money in an envelope to put in the slot. Wrote my own receipt.

So, hey! Even when there’s a rule about wearing a mask, it’s ‘open to interpretation’; why am I bothering?

Last fall, I nearly suffered from heart failure. It almost prevented me from seeing my 70^th birthday. Four days after my birthday, I was in the emergency room and slated for cardioversion and then ablation. I survived. I took off for warmer weather on November 15, not anticipating I’d be stuck in Texas for four months! But reading the available data, I’m in an at-risk group. (That’s the group that various people have referred to as “Some of them are going to have to die to save the economy.”) Having had one brush with death, I’m not looking forward to another.

What I’ve discovered is that I cannot depend on other people to protect me. I expect that includes not just those in the places I visit, but also people who vouch their friendship. Of 1,675,000 confirmed cases in the US, 98,000 have died. Over 10,000 new cases are reported each day in the US, and no state has shown a sustained drop in the number of new cases per day reported over the past three weeks. It is up to me to protect myself.

But there is another reason, as well.

A good friend of mine, retired from the US Army, was called back to active duty to work for the CoVid response team, as Battle Captain in the Emergency Resource Center for the Army. Another friend is consulting with the DoD on CoVid modeling. Neither of them have to be doing what they are doing. Both were retired and beyond an age where they had to respond to the crisis. But they are.

I have friends in the medical field, doctors, nurses, technicians, who have all held the line in the fight against CoVid-19. They are constantly at risk, overworked, and exhausted.

And I will damn well not do anything that might make their job more difficult.

That is why I wear a mask.