At the beginning of the year I predicted and hoped for a maskless summer.
Vaccinations in the United States had just begun. I assumed I was on the bottom of the priority list and that I would get the vaccine by June but I also assumed that most people would also have received their shots by then.
Instead, I received my shots by March. Most people I know received their shots by April. By May, any one who wanted a shot could get one.
It may have been in May when I stopped wearing a mask on regular basis. I don’t even remember. Other than following the requirement to wear a mask on public transportation, I didn’t bother to wear one anymore. Fewer and fewer people in New York City did. Daily infections, hospitalizations and deaths dropped. I went to restaurants and bars, watched a performance at Radio City Music Hall and even watched a movie—on a big screen! The worst seemed to be over.
And then there was delta.
As the summer ends, covid-19 has made a comeback. In some U.S. states, the pandemic is the worst it’s ever been. In most countries, it never really got better. Mask mandates are being brought back. Long awaited events are being canceled or being made virtual. And it’s not even cold, yet, when such infections proliferate even more because we need the warmth of proximity.
Even a cursory reading of history reveals that this is a horribly normal pattern for pandemics. It will keep returning in waves for years until herd immunity is reached or the pathogen mutates into a less lethal variant. Unlike previous pandemics, however, we have effective countermeasures. We have vaccines. We could end this right now if we wanted to, but for reasons I can barely fathom, we have chosen not to. This is no longer an act of God but the decision of men and women.
It ain’t over ’til it’s over. And it ain’t over. And I’m not having fun.