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