Mask Mandate

About two weeks ago officials here lifted the county-wide rule requiring masks to be worn indoors in public places. The sign at the grocery store saying that masks were required disappeared right away. Most people were still wearing them, however.

Then this week, the sign was back but now it says, masks are ‘encouraged.’ At the country-controlled liquor store, the sign on the door says that if you are vaccinated, masks are not required. There is no checking of vaccination cards, of course.

At the federally run post office there are two signs, one on each of the double doors at the entrance. One sign said that masks are required and the other said that masks are encouraged.

Traveling by air last week, I noted that masks were required in the airport though many people I saw were not wearing them. Also there were only announcements. No signs. So if you were deaf, I guess you wouldn’t know. Anyway there was no visible enforcement.

On the airplane, masks are required and there were all kinds of threats of being thrown off the plane if you didn’t wear one. But I saw many people not bothering to cover their noses and some had the thing simply draped across their chins. No one got thrown off the plane.

Two weeks ago visiting Kentucky, I saw few masks, however, in Cincinnati just 90 minutes away but light years more left politically, there were more. Here in the DC suburbs, I see many people wearing masks while walking alone outdoors or alone in their cars and virtually everyone is wearing one indoors even when not required.

I am not pointing out all this because I have any opinion at this point about what anyone should be doing. (Personally, I wear a mask if required by law or if a business owner wants me to in their place of business. If not, I don’t). Rather I am observing how ridiculous the whole thing has become. There will be people who will never leave their homes again without a mask and there will be those who will sooner be thrown off a plane than wear one. Masks have become a personal statement like what kind of jeans you wear or a famous blue raincoat.

My synagogue board recently adopted a policy that said that if you are not up-to-date on ALL CDC recommended shots, you shouldn’t come to services or enter the building. Yes, shingles, HPV and, tetanus, too. I’ll be honest, I am not sure when I last had my Yellow Fever shot (I think it was 1986). After a huge backlash of ridicule and incredulity, the board ‘delayed’ the implementation of this policy and said that you just had to have a Covid vaccine, which of course is what they should have done in the first place. Again, there is no actually checking that you actually have one so the effect either way is nil.

At one synagogue I recently visited, you had to show a vaccination card or be denied entry, and everyone including the cantor leading services had to wear a mask. At my shul everyone except the service leader has to wear one. After services, everyone exits the building and crowds on the entrance steps, masks off, and talking in each other’s faces. But the after services lunch has not resumed. I don’t know if it ever will.

Hotels, touting contactless visits, no longer clean your rooms during your stay. Of course, there are no known instances of anyone getting COVID because their hotel room was cleaned. The hotel saves a ton of money on cleaning staff and tries to make you think it is for your benefit.

My wife is on our local Town Council which is still meeting on Zoom along with all the town committees. Most of my friends who are still working are remote, but some are going into their offices or classrooms every day. There are conferences that are being held and conferences that are being canceled. Some people are getting on airplanes; others won’t leave their homes or even their cars to grab a latte. Some restaurants are still takeout only others are packed beyond the capacity of their servers.

In short, as my former boss Aryeh would say, “Everyone is making Shabbes for themselves”

And the supply chain issues! This week at the grocery store there were no white or yellow corn tortilla chips. Only blue!

Welcome to the pale blue dot: the human world as baffling as ever. Take off your raincoat (but maybe not your mask) and join the party.

Fountains of Ink

I have a fascination with technology. “Yes”, you are nodding and rolling your eyes, “I know, Apple, Apple, Apple.” That is true. At work I was once voted “Most likely to run into a burning building to save his iPhone.” But today, I want to write about another kind of technology that I love: vintage technology, specifically, fountain pens.  

Although fountain pens had existed for more than a hundred years before, the modern fountain pen was created by Lewis Waterman around 1884. Prior to that, writing involved dipping a nib into a bottle of ink and then re-dipping every few lines as it ran out. Mr. Waterman’s pen allowed the pen to carry around its own supply of ink. This innovation meant that you could carry your pen around without having to bring a bottle of ink with you wherever you went. Also, you could write without pausing to dip. A fountain pen might only need to be filled every few days depending on how much writing you did. 

Fountain pens were expensive though, so for many, including school kids, it was still dip pens for a long time. Once fountain pens really took hold, they ruled the writing scene through the 1930s, 40s, and 50s until the cheap disposable ballpoint pen appeared in the 1960s and the fountain pen went the way of Blackberry in the wake of iPhone. 

My own fountain pen story began when I was about 12 years old and in 7th grade. My friend Schuyler had a translucent blue plastic Scheaffer fountain pen. The ink supply was a disposable cartridge that you threw away when empty. The pens were cheap – about $1.75 as I recall. Likely, they made their money on the refills. It was so cool! I knew I had to have one of these pens. Fortunately, such an item could be had at the local department store, Korvette’s and was well within the range of my humble allowance savings. (The following year I started delivering newspapers, and started earning the fortune needed to keep me in ink cartridges.) 

Throughout college and into early working life, I used a cheap Sheaffer fountain pen for my everyday writing. I loved the way the nib felt on the paper laying down a wet line of lovely blue-black ink and the sturdy steel nibs lasted for years. The way the writing looked reminded me of old postcards or letters or the high school autograph books that zipped closed that my mom kept in a box in her closet. The pages of those books were filled with the very innocent limericks and sayings of public-school kids of the 1950s.

My first major advance came in college when a political science professor, Dr. Schmickle showed me how he refilled his own pen’s cartridges from a bottle of ink with a hypodermic syringe saving money. A pack of five cartridges might cost a dollar for five weeks of writing but a $3 bottle of ink would easily last a year. Dr. S got me my own needle from his wife who was a nurse and I was on my way to injecting a modest ink habit of a few dollars a year (isn’t this how it always starts?)

Then as a wedding gift, my wife bought me my first ‘nice’ pen. A slim matte black Sheaffer Targa with a 14k gold nib. Gold nibs are prized by fountain pen lovers because the way they glide over the paper and because they are more flexible and, let’s face it, they are pretty and shiny. In 1991 as fountain pens were becoming the rage (and a status symbol) I fell in love with a modern recreation of the classic Parker Duofold and when I became the executive director of the organization I had worked for since 1987, I bought one as a gift to myself. It used a converter, a little cartridge like device with a piston inside allowing it to be used to fill the pen from a bottle over and over with no need for a syringe. I kept this pen filled with Waterman Blue-Black ink which had a chemical smell that reminded me of the white paste we used in Kindergarten. Sadly, they reformulated the ink around 10 years ago and now it has no smell at all. The Duofold somehow retains a lingering scent of this ink it held for so many years. 

Over the years, I have acquired other pens, given some away, bought more, given more away. And a few years ago I went on an insane ink buying spree accumulating inks in every hue and in a variety of beautiful glass bottles. I keep a small journal to record which ink is in which pen so that I can remember what is in which.

If you have read this far, perhaps you are thinking you might like to try a fountain pen? Or try one again? Here are the reasons you might be thinking you should not and why those reasons are (mostly) bogus. 

Fountain Pens Leak!

Modern fountain pens rarely leak. It is not impossible but if handled right they won’t. Don’t bang them around. Carry them in a pocket or bag with the nib facing up. If you bring them on an airplane fill them completely or carry them empty (the change in cabin pressure can cause half empty pens to leak, though I have never had this happen in decades of flying). Having said this if you fill your pen from a bottle you WILL sometimes get ink stains on your fingers. So what? Almost all pen ink is water soluble and washes out of cloth and skin very easily. Many people intentionally choose to mark their skins permanently with ink. What’s a few drops on your fingers that will wash out? 

They cost a lot!

Not so! A very serviceable fountain pen can be purchased for as little as $2.75! That’s less in real terms than my Sheaffer pen was in 1974! If you want to go up to around $30 you can get a great writer with changeable nibs that is sturdy enough to last a lifetime and for under $40 you can get a similar pen with an all metal body. A bottle of ink can be had for under $10 and will last for probably 2-3 years or longer depending on how much you write. Back when I wrote with mostly one color of ink, I’d walk over to Fahrney’s Pens on G Street (later F Street) once a year to buy my bottle of Waterman Blue-Black. It was a nice little ritual and sometimes, I’d come back with more than a bottle of ink. 

I always lose pens. I can’t have nice things. 

I lose stuff all the time but I have never lost a fountain pen. Unlike disposable pens which seems to behave like common property and move ownerless from person to person, a fountain pen will get noticed and if you put it down, people will try to get it back to you. You will also be more likely to keep track of it. When was the last time you lost your phone or your wallet? It happens but it is rare. 

I am left handed. Lefties can’t use fountain pens. 

It is true that left handed people face an additional challenge when using a fountain pen because their hand moves right over the just laid down (and therefore wet) ink potentially smearing it. However, left handed people WERE able to write before the invention of the ballpoint and there are many who use fountain pens successfully and with joy. 

 They are too hard to use.

Well, they are not hard to use like say an electron microscope is hard to use but using a fountain pen requires more thought and a little more skill than using a Bic. They need to be filled from time to time, they need to be cleaned once in a while (not often) and they require a bit of care. They may appeal to the kind of person who likes sharpening their own knives (me), shaving with a brush and razor (me), or maintaining their own car (not me!) but it requires much less skill or time than any of these. 

But what are the positive reasons to try a fountain pen? 

1.  It’s a nice writing experience. I find ballpoint pens and roller balls scratchy and unpleasant to write with. A fountain pen lays down a line of shimmering wet ink. 

2. It is a thing that is made to last in a world of disposable stuff. A pen can be something that helps you express yourself through your writing but also as a kind of piece of personal jewelry. 

3. There are thousands of ink types and colors. Pick one color as your personal brand or change colors each time you fill your pen. 

4. A fountain pen immediately signals you are a person of letters who demands to be taken seriously. 

5. You’ll start finding reasons to write. Daily journal? Sure! Old fashioned correspondence? Why not? Imagine their delight when they receive your handwritten letter or card in beautiful emerald ink hand delivered by the postal service. Mark Zuckerberg is getting nervous! 

6. The periodic reinking can be a chance to pause in your labors and reflect how the human mind and hand can turn pigmented water into coded thoughts and ideas that can change the course of history… or can at least serve to remind you what you need to buy at the grocery store. 

I know that most of you reading this will dismiss the idea of using a fountain pen quicker than the idea of abandoning your computer for a typewriter but for any of you who are intrigued and might want to give it a try, I’d love to help. Feel free to reach out for some advice on getting started or if you want to explore on you own, I highly recommend the online retailer The Goulet Pen Co. Brian and Rachel Goulet started this fountain pen focused business back around 2009 and I have been a customer almost since the beginning. In addition to pens they also sell nice paper and accessories and ink in tiny sample vials so that you can try a color without having to commit to a whole bottle. 

They have incredible customer service and great how-to videos on YouTube for anyone getting started. They are very knowledgeable about everything they sell and it just feels good to patronize them. Yes, you can find most of what they sell on Amazon for less money but just this once ignore your Prime membership and bestow your custom on a small, family run business even if it means waiting a day or two to get your goods and spending a dollar or two more. 

Also, they send you a little Tootsie-pop with each order. 

If you would just like to see what it feels like to write with a fountain pen, the Pilot Varsity provides that experience in a ‘disposable’ pen. But these pens are actually refillable so if you do buy one, don’t throw it away when it is empty. Send it to me and I will refill it for you or send it on to another newbie to try. 

If you currently write with a fountain pen, would like to try it, or need some advice on what to buy, let me know. I’d love to hear from you and as the good folks at Goulet say, “Write on!”

Detours and Downed Trains

This week I took the subway (Metro) for just the second time since pandemic panic week zero. From 1997 until 2014 Metro was my daily companion though not always an agreeable one. My commuting times were more than 2 hours a day, well over an additional work day per week spent riding in and out of town. Not a total waste - I got a lot of reading down during those hours. There was time to decompress on my way home or, I guess compress, on my way to work. Getting on at the end of the line in the morning, I usually got a seat, though that was by no means a given. 

Toward the later years, however, Metro strained under two big issues: One, the weight of ridership beyond what had been envisioned when the system first opened in 1976 (just in time for the Bicentennial of the U.S.). Second, the consequences of delayed maintenance beyond the boundaries of smooth operation and well into questionable safety territory. And in fact, there were a number of fatal incidences that rocked the DC area and eventually spurred officials to take action.  But for me, it was too little, too late. My final years of commuting were extremely frustrating, with unpredictable delays multiple times a week, resulting in my sometimes being hours late for work or arriving home long after my family had eaten supper. Meanwhile the cost of commuting and parking at the metro soared to more than $16 per day.  

So I was interested to see what progress had been made when I boarded Metro this week for the first time on a weekday and just the second time since March of 2020. 

On the plus side, Metro, like the New York City subway, has implemented Smart Phone express pay. Before heading to Metro, I transferred my SmartCard to my iPhone and set up Express Transit. I am pleased to report that worked flawlessly. I tapped my phone to the target pad and without needing to authenticate with Face ID the gates sprung open. Unfortunately, I was not able to board the train at the closest station. My station and the next one on the line are undergoing major work and are closed for months. Metro is providing a bus to the third station down the line where I was able to board the train. 

Trains are no longer packed. Admittedly, I was traveling after rush hour but the stations and the trains were nearly empty. Unfortunately, for all the repairs, my train was held for about five minutes because of a ‘downed train’ on the tracks ahead. Still five extra minutes sitting on a nearly empty train is a very different experience than 20 minutes standing with someone’s elbow in your eye. On the whole, the ride was pretty mellow. 

Emerging at Judiciary Square, the stairs were entirely ripped out and undergoing repairs, but the up escalator was in place and was actually operating so that was a pleasant surprise.  

Returning home later during rush hour, things were slightly busier but only slightly. The cars were still pretty empty and there was barely any wait for the bus detour around the closed stations. 

Back at the end of the line, I was pleased to see that the parking lot gates were wide open. Metro was not charging to park. That kind of made sense since mine was one of the few cars in the lot, but it was still another nice surprise. The trip in and out cost $5.75, less than it would have pre-COVID. 

On the whole, even with the delays and closed stations, I found the trip in and out of DC was more pleasant and less stressful than it used to be. (No doubt it helped that I was meeting a friend for coffee, not worried about being late for work.) 

Still I felt sorry for Metro, my old nemesis. What is a transit system, even a broken one without riders? DC too, was unnaturally quiet for Tuesday morning, with government workers and so many businesses still working remotely. The Metro itself seemed sad and somehow longing for its dysfunctional and chaotic past. 

My friend Karen and her husband moved into downtown DC in February of 2020 anticipating the delights of the city, from restaurants to theaters to bustling cafes. Yes, just in time to invoke that well-worn response from the deity to human plans – divine giggles. They are still enjoying life in a beautiful condo in the city free of the hassles of upkeep and yard work but it is not exactly the life they expected. 

Riding home on in the nearly empty car it occurred to me that it is not the world but our expectations of how it should be that get us every time. If we could move into the city, if they would just fix Metro, if I could lose 20 pounds, if things would just get back to normal, I would be able to find joy, we think. But if those conditions should ever be met, there will be three more conditions that are unmet. We long for quiet but when it arrives, it feels wrong and we miss the noise and bustle. 

The chance for joy is to somehow see that this present moment is the only time that ever was and will ever be. And as difficult as it is, the most important time to remember that is when there is a downed train on the track just ahead.