As more and more people start to wear protective masks, I wonder if we’ll go around asking ourselves. “Who is that masked man or woman?”
Before you ask, no, I’m not the female version of the Lone Ranger. For starters, my mask is worn on the wrong part of my face– it covers my mouth and nose. Secondly, I’m no hero. And thirdly, there’s no way in heaven or earth I could possible get on a horse, much less ride one.
You remember the Lone Ranger, don’t you? He had an all-white outfit, except for a black mask that covered his forehead and nose—at lot like zorro’s mask. The lone ranger rode a white stallion named Silver that he sometimes leapt onto from various vantage points. And he had a Native American companion named Tonto
At the end of the show someone always asked, “Who was that masked man?” The answer was, “That’s the Lone Ranger.”
Here’s the thing about face masks—they obscure the ability to identify the wearer, especially the kind of masks we are wearing today. For example, we were watching the news the other night and they had a screen shot of Democratic presidential candidate Joe Biden’s Twitter account. He’d changed his profile picture and he was wearing a black face mask and dark sunglasses. If they hadn’t put his name under the picture I wouldn’t have known who he was. With his face outfitted as it was he just looked like some gray-headed man, and heaven knows there are hundreds of those around.
And herein lies the dilemma:
As mask wear becomes more prevalent I foresee a big problem … figuring out the identity of people who greet you in the store, especially if they aren’t close friends. I’m terrible with names and often resort to “Hi, it’s so nice to see you” greetings when I haven’t a clue who I’m talking to—which is more often than I care to admit. If they’re wearing a mask, I fear I’ll be even more lost in the identity game. Add a pair of sunglasses and a hat and I’m in big trouble.
It’s also hard to hear muffled voices through masks. I rely on voices to help jog my memory and facial features to connect the identity dots. The other day I had to keep asking my husband to repeat what he said when we were both masked and shopping. Unlike me, he’d tied his mask on in such a fashion that he couldn’t drop it down to speak. If I can’t hear my husband, whose voice I know very well, will I be able to identify the muffled voices of people I haven’t seen in over a month, much less recognize them by only seeing their eyes and foreheads? Most probably not.
Fortunately, I didn’t meet any people in the grocery that day whom I knew, but when I do, I’ve got a great excuse for those I-can’t-remember-your-name moments. I’ll just blame it on their masks. Then when they’ve left, I’ll turn to my husband and say, “Who was that masked person?”
Chances are, he won’t know either.
About the Author:
Multi-award winning author Catherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.
You won’t find any masked people in Catherine’s books, but you will find plenty of humor. Check out her award-winning romantic comedy with a touch of drama, A Groom for Mama available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.
A Groom for Mama
By Catherine Castle
Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.
The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness.
A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.