Please Wear a Mask in the Living Room

Legendary Okefenokee Swamp

My husband and I just came back from a brief getaway to the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia. I've always wanted to see that legendary wetland. We had reservations for the night at a charming bed and breakfast nearby but were surprised, when we arrived, to be greeted by the proprietor in a mask. His wife soon joined us, also in a mask. Oh yeah, I remembered, we're not in Florida any more.

Our hosts seemed a little nervous as they welcomed us to their B&B, and at the end of a brief tour of the home, the husband mentioned that when we use the common areas, that is, the living room (the only room in the inn with a television, by the way), we will need to wear a mask. "Oh," I laughed, "we'll be in our room. Once you read the scientific reports on masks, you won't want to wear one again." He chuckled in a puzzled way but asked no questions. 

We carried in our slight luggage wondering how intelligent, competent people at this point can still think that wearing cloth masks makes any difference in the battle against the virus. We ran into this delusion again when we visited the main visitors center at the swamp, which is run primarily by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife folks. Feds, that is. Here again we had to don the useless face gear to explore their exhibits, look around the little gift shop, and book a boat tour of the swamp.

We enjoyed getting to know the blackwater swamp, though, and the small neighboring town of Folkston. (Supper in the local fried chicken diner gave us a good meal and a comfortable feeling of life in a smaller place, where everyone who walked in greeted people they knew and entered into animated conversations about shared interests and enterprises.) 

By Georgia's famous Folkston Funnel tracks

Then there were the long freight trains that sang to us in our bed, not too loudly, as they rolled through the dark town. 

We headed home to the Sunshine State the next day and were again grateful for living here, where rules and regulations involve more common sense than in most of the country, especially when it comes to the virus.

There's no doubt that many people everywhere are still afraid of the virus and will follow disproven protocols "just to be safe," as they tell me. When will all of this pretending finally end, and people be able to look reality in the eye and say what's true about the virus and what measures work and which absolutely do not? We continue to wait, taking some comfort in such things as the magnificent and timeless Okefenokee Swamp and the dutiful trains that continue to run through Folkston, Georgia, taking things where they need to go.