Masks

“Something happened to me at the grocery store this morning.

I selected a cart with wheels that didn’t wobble and worked my way down the produce aisle, but my glasses kept fogging up. I was shopping for the family, had my list, my reusable bags, hand sanitizer, and, of course, my mask, a kn95 face mask, to be exact. But with each breath, a moist mist fanned across the lenses. We’re talking dense fog, a San Francisco fog, a London fog. I tugged at my mask, pinched the noseband, and adjusted my glasses, but nothing worked. So finally, I took off my glasses and jammed one stem into the open collar of my shirt. I double-checked to make sure the frame was secure because designer bifocals are expensive. The store appeared fuzzy but navigable, so I made my way to the deli counter.

I asked for a half-pound of sliced turkey breast.

“Boars Head?” the woman behind the counter asked.

“That will do,” I said. She went to work cutting the turkey. Her ash-blond hair was tucked inside a hairnet, and she also wore a mask and glasses. I watched her work and asked, “How do you keep your glasses from fogging up?”

“Oh, they fog up all the time,” she answered, flopping the turkey slices on the scale. I assumed she was smiling because the skin around her eyes was crinkly. “I’m surprised I haven’t cut my thumb off. I spend half my day fiddling with my glasses,” she said, handing me the wrapped turkey.

“Well, you’re doing better than me.” I tugged on my shirt collar, showing her my glasses. I thanked her, pushed my cart down the aisle, and parked it by the cheese section. I grabbed a couple of containers of olive tapenade hummus, kalamata olives, and a bag of crumbled feta, and then I remembered the crackers. I left the cart and walked to another aisle, grabbed Mary’s Gone Crackers, my wife’s favorite, and a box of original Triscuits.

When I came back, a woman was going through my cart, handling items. I thought, is she stealing my olive tapenade hummus? And then I noticed the hairnet. The deli lady turned around and held up a sealed plastic bag. Inside the bag was a facemask.

“I bought a bunch of these. They work better than the other masks I found, you know, to keep your glasses from fogging up,” she said, handing me the mask. “I was going to leave it in your cart. But here, you can have it, I mean, for free.”

“Why, thank you,” I said, a little surprised. She waved a dismissive hand, “Have a good day.”

“What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?” If everyone on the planet took the time to perform a simple act of kindness, we could change the world.”

At home, my daughter, Matisse, helped me unpack and put away the groceries. When I showed her the sealed mask the deli lady gave me, she said, “Oh, that is so sweet.” Matisse put the hummus and olives in the refrigerator. Then my sophisticated, thirty-two-year-old daughter got teary-eyed. “I mean, really, that is sweet.”

I thought about it for the rest of the day. I wondered if that woman had felt the gentle promptings of Spirit—the same Spirit who has guided me and watched over me throughout my life, the same Spirit that connects all humankind.

A Jean Jacques Rousseau quote appears beneath the signature at the bottom of my emails: “What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?” If everyone on the planet took the time to perform a simple act of kindness, we could change the world.”

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