The Montana Mask Mandate

They didn’t tell me about this. I’m on board with social distancing and the closure of businesses and whatever else needs to be done to ameliorate the spread of coronavirus. For God’s sake! People – tens of thousands of them every month -- are dying. And I’m more than willing to wear a mask in public. I’ll even concede that wearing a mask, to the extent that it hides my face, improves my looks. (Thank you, concerned readers, for tactfully pointing that out). So most of the time I do wear a mask. But not all the time. Certainly, not as much as I should. 

I don’t have any good reasons for not doing so. I don’t have any qualms about being considered a closet liberal; I’m an out-of-the-closet liberal. But when is it safe to not wear a mask, and when is it absolutely necessary? There are few distinct lines being drawn by the people in charge of this stuff – safe here, unsafe there – and what is considered appropriate mask-wearing changes from state to state and from city to city. 

Recently, I visited the REI store in my hometown in southwestern Montana. There was a sentry posted at the door making sure that everyone who entered was wearing a mask. Stickers on the floor told me where I needed to stand in order to socially distance myself from the next guy in line. It was comforting, having well defined boundaries that I didn’t have to think about. 

A few minutes later, I visited Sportsman’s Warehouse, which is literally next door. Not only was no one wearing a mask, I got the distinct impression the patrons would have been pissed off if anyone had asked them to wear one.  

I hate wearing this stupid mask. But – no big surprise -- I also hate dying. I may be old, but I’m still too young to die, and you can take that to the bank. So I’ll keep wearing my mask when it seems like I should and take it off when I think I can and maintain the vigil for someone, anyone, to come up with some guidelines that apply. To everybody.