Volunteer Orientation

The local school district is holding their volunteer orientation this morning. My plans to attend have my mask phobia rip roaring. The Masky Dask hasnae gained many disciples in this smallish ag community, but "Rabble Rousing" isnae a well-supported activity, either. Nothing has been stated, one way or the other, if the volunteer orientation will be a masked affair or a free-breathing event. My guess, based on local compliance, is that free-breathing will at least be tolerated, but there remains enough Federal control over local school districts that it wouldnae surprise me to find a Mask Patrol outside the door with the now cliche demands to mask it all.

I sometimes think I have made progress with my mask phobia. Maybe. I still cringe like a beaten crazy bitch wolf when people try to get a muzzle on me, but I have managed to hold a conversation or three with maskites. The mask muffle remains difficult for me to interperet, but at least I am able to make the attempt and even able to enjoy the jokes currently circulating about the similaritis between interpreting the mask muffle and the first of the drive-thru speakers back in the 70's. Sometimes. The fact that I am still struggling to find the humor makes me believe I am suppressing the mask phobia far more than resolving it. Itsy bitsy baby steps. . .

I am sorely tempted to wait another year before beginning to work develop my local volunteer network. Stay safe. I donae share the maskite germaphobia, but I still fear the maskite love of control and law enforcement. Do **They** all have hypodermics, scalpels  and stricter laws behind their backs? What's in YOUR mask?

Oddly, residuals from Monday's encounter with the homeless woman are naysaying the evasive manuevers. Family dysfunction prevents me from helping any of my homeless and socially marginalized family members directly, but their presence in my life has made acutely aware of how deeply the socially marginalized people of the world have been affected by the middle and upper class retreat to Coronaville. The sudden retreat of those who were able to isolate in their comfortable homes has been devastating. While the social mainstream has been protecting themselves, the social distances have been radically increased for the socially marginalized with the added bonus of media censorship to make them more invisible than ever. Just mask it all. I may not be able to help my socially marginalized family members directly, but I can support the community efforts to help them.

Then there are the more personal dynamics of helping my 3 orphans stabilize into new lives. The second anniversary of Mommy and Daddy's deaths serves as a stark reminder that they are overdue. How do you explain to a five-year-old that a two-minute, televised encounter with a socially distant social worker is not "Friendship?" Big Sis hasnae ever had a friend. Those socially distant social workers are all the data she has to work with. At present, Hubby and I fear her emotional needs and social perceptions will make her an easy target for whatever predator cares to mark her. Children learn what they live far more than they learn what anybody says. I feel deeply compelled to break my own isolation for the sake of these children. Maybe. The enforcing maskites are still loudly aggressive in their search for ways to enforce their personal safety on the world at large, whether they have the middle and upper class resources to comply, or not.

At present, I believe my next itsy bitsy baby step will be to show up at the orientation and watch from the parking lot, carefully monitoring my own emotional responses to whom/what walks up to the door. "Read the room," so to speak. We see what grows.

Again, I leave the mood icon on the rapid cycling media. Through a cupped hand to emulate the mask muffle, I am fine. How are you?