 SEPTEMBER 24 • 2020 | 5

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Masked Up 
Y

ears ago, my baby 
was admitted to 
Beaumont. Fun fact 
about Beaumont: It’
s a teach-
ing hospital, which means 
there’
s going 
to be about 10 
people taking 
turns coming in 
to ask you the 
same questions 
over and over 
again. I think 
their point is to 
teach patience. Yes, to teach the 
patients patience!
Anyhow, one interaction 
stuck out. A medical student 
with a very strong Indian 
accent kept asking, “Is your 
baby a dumb baby?” I was sure 
I misheard him, but there’
s a 
limit to how many times you 
can say “I’
m sorry, what??!” so 
finally I just said “Um, I know 
he doesn’
t say much yet, but he 
is only 3 months, I mean, give 
the kid a chance.
” 
Poor guy looked at me like 
I’
d just landed from Mars and 
repeated himself again, this 
time spelling out the word. 
Turned out he’
d asked me if he 
was a “term baby.
” 
I can’
t even imagine what 
I would have misheard if the 
man was wearing a mask, as 
he undoubtedly is now. Those 
things act like mini-mufflers. 
My husband recently took 
our 2-year-old to the emer-
gency room and was asked by 
someone with a thick muffled 
accent, “
Are you dead?” which 
horrified him until he realized 
he was being asked, “
Are you 
Dad?”
Masks. Can’
t live without 

them these days, 
but it’
s definitely 
not fun living 
with them, either. 
Personally, I’
m 
part of the lucky 
few who 
 weren’
t 
bothered by them 
… until allergy 
season arrived. Now whenever 
anything touches my super 
sensitive nose, my eyes start 
watering, my face starts tin-
gling and I have that ah-ah-ah-
ahm-gonna-sneeze-any-mo-
ment-now thing going, which 
makes pushing a shopping cart 
kind of hazardous.
But worst is when you drive 
somewhere, slam your car door 
shut, happily walk to a shop 
and suddenly remember: I left 
my mask in the car. 
Actually, no, that’
s only sec-
ond to worst. Absolute worst is 
when you don’
t have a mask in 
your car either. Because then 
what? I know everyone sells 
masks these days, but if you’
re 
not allowed in a shop without 
a mask, how exactly are you 
supposed to get inside to buy a 
new one?
To help avoid just such a 
situation, there are all these 
new mask lanyards and mask 
necklaces so people can wear 
their masks around their necks. 
Useful, but until you need 
them, the mask kind of hovers 
under your chin, looking like a 
floating wall from a Nintendo 
game or a magic flying carpet 
for LEGO people. 

I feel like masks 
are the new high 
heels. Not that com-
fortable, but boy can 
they look good! I’
m 
loving the styles! 
Some designs are 
only “sew-sew,
” but 
there are also some 
really funky ones out there. I 
got one with a design of a lip-
sticked mouth — talk about a 
vast improvement!
Another great mask was 
the one I had made for my 
husband — out of a picture of 
his own face. I think the only 
reason he doesn’
t get offended 
by comments like “That’
s the 
scariest thing I’
ve ever seen” is 
because it secretly scares him, 
too.
I also bought a bunch of 
plain white Hanes (yes, like the 
underwear) and spent a happy 
few hours tie-dying them.
Do you think that the masks 
we wear and how we wear 
them say something about 
us? Do you like the disposable 
ones? You must be practical, 
brush your teeth religiously 
and are hopeful the pandemic 
will end soon. Prefer to wear 
a funkier design? That says 
you’
re upbeat, glad there’
s an 
excuse to cover the stray hairs 
growing out of your chin and 
proudly support small busi-
nesses.
That’
s all I’
ve got to say about 
masks. I hope I’
ve covered 
everything!
Shanah Tovah! 

Rochel 
Burstyn

guest column

My Father’s 
Sacrifice
I 

spent six months of the mid-
’
70s living in Normandy, 
France, on foreign study. My 
dad had urged me to tell the 
older people I met of his mili-
tary service. Honestly, at age 20, 
and with everybody’
s dad being 
a WWII veteran, 
I was not real 
impressed. Dumb 
me. 
Anyway, this 
local man at the 
university heard 
me say that my 
dad served on a 
battleship and was behind a gun 
at the D-Day invasion. In awe, 
he told me, “Your father saved 
my country. It is my obligation 
to take you to the war beaches.
” 
That weekend, he picked 
me up for a nice lunch in his 
home with his whole family. 
His poor teen boys were bored 
out of their minds, but he made 
them sit there politely. He then 
packed us all in his tiny car and 
we drove out to the ocean, those 
legendary war beaches. 
It was winter, cold and windy. 
No one was there but us. The 
man’
s wife and kids stayed 
warm in the car. Our first stop: 
this miniscule museum, just a 
hole-in-the wall. Right there, in 
glorious black and white, hung 
a photo of my dad’
s battleship!
Then he walked me out to 
the edge of those cliffs. The 
wind ripped through our 
clothes and we stood in silence. 
I looked out on the ocean and 
pictured my teenaged dad 
scared out of his mind but 
standing on duty behind those 
huge guns.
Last stop, the cemetery. He 

Donna Klein

The Burstyn family is 
having some fun with 
face masks.

ROCHEL BURSTYN

continued on page 6

