Opinion

Pixabay photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

Last Friday around 10:30 am, our son, who just arrived at his freshman dorm 12 days earlier, asked how quickly I could get him on a flight back home.

I dropped what I was doing and searched for flights out of New Orleans. We knew he was in the path of Hurricane Ida and had been hoping, as Long Island had done the week before with Hurricane Henri, that he and the city would somehow avoid the worst of the storm.

His college had provided regular updates, indicating that the forecasts called for the storm to hit 90 miles to their west. That would mean they’d get heavy rain and some wind, but that the storm, strong as it might become, might not cause the same kind of devastation as Hurricane Katrina had exactly 16 years earlier.

By Friday, two days before its arrival, my son, many of his friends, and his friends’ parents were scrambling to get away from the Crescent City amid reports that the storm was turning more to the east.

Fortunately, we were able to book a mid-day flight the next day. An hour later, he texted me and said he might want to stay on campus during the storm, the way a few of his other friends were doing. I ignored the message.

Two hours later, he asked if he still had the plane reservation and said he was happy he’d be leaving.

Later that Friday, another classmate tried unsuccessfully to book a flight, as the scramble to leave the city increased.

My wife and I became increasingly concerned about his ride to the airport, which, on a normal day, would take about 30 minutes. We kept pushing the time back for him to leave, especially when we saw images of crowded roadways.

He scheduled an Uber for 9:30. On Saturday morning at 6 a.m. his time, he texted and asked if he should go with a friend who was leaving at 9 and had room in his car. Clearly, he wasn’t sleeping too much, either.

I urged him to take the earlier car, which would give him more time in case traffic was crawling. He got to the airport well before his flight and waited for close to two hours to get through a packed security line.

When his plane was finally in the air, my wife and I breathed a sigh of relief. We both jumped out of the car at the airport to hug him and welcome him home, even though we had given him good luck hugs only two weeks earlier at the start of college.

After sharing his relief at being far from the storm, he told us how hungry he was. The New Orleans airport had run low on food amid the sudden surge of people fleeing the city. After he greeted our pets, who were thrilled to see him, he fell into a salad, sharing stream-of-consciousness stories.

The next day, he received numerous short videos from friends who stayed during the storm. While we’d experienced hurricanes before, the images of a transformer sparking and then exploding, videos of rooms filling with water from shattered windows, and images of water cascading through ceilings near light fixtures were still shocking.

He will be home for at least six weeks, as the city and the school work to repair and rebuild infrastructure. During that time, he will return to the familiar world of online learning, where he and new friends from around the country and world will work to advance their education amid yet another disruption from a routine already derailed by COVID-19.

We know how fortunate he was to get out of harm’s way and how challenging the rebuilding process will be for those who live in New Orleans. When he returns to campus, whenever that may be, we know he will not only study for his classes, but that he and his classmates will also contribute to efforts to help the community and city recover from the storm.

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Rarely do I sort the jumbled contents of my drawers. With a burst of energy, I did just that the other day, and I was rewarded with an archaeological find. There, toward the back, where I had clearly put it for safekeeping, was a $25 United States Saving Bond that had been given to my husband in 1950.

Curiously, it happened to be exactly on the day and month of our second son’s birth many years later. But I digress.

Back to the matter of the bond. What to do with this bit of Series E antiquity?

First thought was to bring it to my friendly banker, who searched for the serial number on the web and found it was worth $147 and change today. OK, not too bad, since it originally cost $18.75. At least the gift has kept up with inflation.

Next were the requirements for cashing the bond. That has proven not to be so simple for a couple of reasons. First, there is another name listed as the recipient on the front. It is that of his mother. The name on the face of the paper reads this way: that of my husband OR that of his mother. Whoever gave him the bond probably thought it was a good idea to have the parent involved as a backup. After all, my husband was just a teenager then. So, not only do I have to supply key information about my husband, like social security number and death certificate. I also have to produce the names of my mother-in-law’s parents, the county in which she died, her last residence, along with her social security number and her date of death in order to get her death certificate. Well, that’s not happening. At least not without some huge sleuthing.

At this point, kudos to my banker, who will not give up. And we do have a couple of lucky breaks here. She was born in the United States, so presumably, a death certificate can be found. Further, one of my husband’s siblings and his wife thankfully are still alive, with both retaining every single brain cell. They could tell me where she lived and her parents’ last name. They had no idea of her social security number, nor could they recall where she died. My daughter-in-law, called in to help, was able to use the internet and found her date of death.

Another kink in the thread is that the last name of both is misspelled, with an extra ‘f’ on the end. The gifter did not know their correct spelling. My brother-in-law assured me she did not spell their name that way. I don’t know how much of an obstacle that will be in this age of computer exactness.

The biggest challenge remaining is to determine in which county she died. She lived in Queens, she may have died in a Manhattan hospital, or she may have been living in an adult home in Nassau County, near her daughter, at the time of her death. I will be paying $23 and some change in order to file for a search of that elusive certificate. Perhaps I will have to do that three times.

This is not about money now. I know both those people listed on the bond would want to be made whole lo these 71 years later. I owe it to them to continue the search. Besides, as my banker explained, this is the first such conundrum he has been presented with, and he will learn from it and know how to deal with the next one.

For my part, I will consider any money I should ultimately receive, as the 1936 Bing Crosby song goes, pennies from heaven.

Lt. Gov. Kathy Hochul poses for a portrait and headshot in her office at the state Senate. Photo from Hochul's office

Nineteen states have never had a female governor and, up until this week, neither did New York. That’s progress. 

When former Gov. Andrew Cuomo (D) resigned amongst nearly a dozen sexual harassment allegations, and after a thorough, months-long investigation, his lieutenant governor, Kathy Hochul (D), was given the opportunity to make history. The mother of two from Buffalo has had a long career in politics and advocacy. She even sat in Congress.

New York now joins eight other states — Oregon, Alabama, Kansas, New Mexico, South Dako-ta, Iowa, Michigan and Maine — who have lady leaders as heads of their state. 

And practically minutes after she took her oath early Tuesday morning, she said during a short press conference that she wants her constituents to “believe in their government again.”

But that’s going to be hard for many New Yorkers — especially the ones who lost their faith in government throughout the COVID-19 pandemic. 

Unfortunately for Hochul, she had barely been in office for even a full day when commenters online began to bash her for her mask-mandating policy. 

As of Tuesday afternoon, she said all school districts in the state of New York must require masks for their students, faculty and staff to be fully vaccinated or tested weekly.

People are furious, according to the online comment threads. They’re not necessarily mad about the mandate — although that’s become a debate within itself. They are mad she hasn’t addressed all the other issues that are impacting New Yorkers — homelessness, food insecurity, the nursing home deaths during COVID and high taxes. 

When reading through the comments on a story that was published by The New York Times, New York Post and locally, Newsday, readers are finding issues already with our new leader. 

Can we just give her a second to settle in? It was barely 24 hours before she even set foot in the governor’s mansion in Albany, and people were already assuming she’s failing us. 

People might be upset by the mask mandate, but we’ve been through this before. Remember, the COVID-19 pandemic is hitting its year-and-a-half mark. That means we have been wearing masks, social distancing, hand sanitizing and Zooming for almost two years. We’re used to these policies. 

No one wants to wear masks, especially if they’ve been vaccinated. But right now, with the Delta variant — and whatever other mutations are out there coming soon — we need to be safe. 

This summer, we had a taste of freedom again. We were allowed to see friends and families, weddings were back on and kids were able to attend their graduations in person — and that’s all because we wore masks for practically a year before that. When the vaccine came out, that helped us all, too.

Let’s just listen to Hochul. Let’s not complain. 

The sooner we tackle this problem, the sooner we can get back to whatever normal is the new normal. 

Don’t judge her policies just yet — she’s had a lot of experience and whoever jumped into Cuomo’s seat was in for it. 

She was handed a pile of dirt and now needs to make it beautiful. 

Trust her actions, give her a chance. Embrace the fact that someone new is in office and remember: A mother always knows best.

METRO photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

We packed our bags full of dreams, hopes, clothing and cliches and took our son to college. We pondered the journey, which is really what’s it’s all about, and not the destination.

My wife and I were bursting with pride, thinking about the shining light that is our son.

We wondered what advice we could offer before we returned to a house that would feel so empty without him. We thought a good rule of thumb might be to avoid harebrained ideas, although we knew we could do better at preparing him for future dark and stormy nights.

As he took his first steps onto his new campus, we encouraged him to discover the world and himself at the same time.

We shared the butterflies that fluttered among our four stomachs. Like a good soldier in our family’s mission, his sister joined us for this momentous occasion, prepared to offer her version of older sibling advice and to help find whatever item he might need in a college dorm he is sharing with a stranger he’d chosen from a grab bag of potential roommates.

As we followed the move-in directions to a tee, we could feel the electricity in the air. We drove up to an official behind a desk, who was all ears listening to him spell a last name chock full of vowels.

With bated breath and sweaty palms, we waited with every fiber of our beings until she found him on the list. We breathed a sigh of relief when she found his name and handed him a key that would open his dorm room to a new world of possibilities. As a freshman, he knew he was no longer the big man on campus he had been during his pandemic-altered senior year.

Once inside his dorm, we got down to the business of unpacking. We debated where to put his shoes even as he stared out the window, considering where he might plant his feet.

Recognizing that time was of the essence, we spring to life while unpacking his room. Standing apart in a small room full of wonders, we drew strength from our collective mission.

Slowly but surely, we removed the contents of his boxes, creating order from the chaos despite a few moments when we felt like we were all thumbs. We lined all his ducks in a row, creating neat rows of pencils, pens and notebooks on his desk and boxers, shorts, tee shirts and socks in his drawers.

After we prepared his room, we wiped the sweat from our brow, reminding him that this effort was but a drop in the bucket of the work he’d need to do in college.

We assured him he could bet his bottom dollar he wouldn’t feel like a babe in the woods or a fish out of water for long.

We could almost hear the angelic chords as the sun set in the west, where it always sets because that’s the way the cookie crumbles, or, rather, the earth rotates.

Before we left him in his new home away from home, we exchanged embraces and urged him to dance to the beat of his own drum.

We also suggested he find a healthy way to blow off steam, to recognize that a rising tide lifts all boats, to swim when it was time to sink or swim, and to play his cards right.

Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Another birthday has come and gone. It was a memorable day, first, because it began with an overflowing toilet bowl, and it ended with the imminent arrival of Hurricane Henri. The latter caused my children and grandchildren, who were happily visiting, to depart abruptly for their homes before sunset. In between, we enjoyed a terrific party, with lots of laughter, board games and food, lingering over each meal long enough to plan the next one.

We on Long Island were lucky to have escaped the worst of the storm after the dire predictions. Lots of rain fell, some of it torrentially, but the electricity stayed on and the flooding wasn’t too bad. What could have been a disaster for us made me consider more carefully an article I recently read in the Spring/Summer edition of Columbia University’s magazine. 

Titled, “How to Prepare for a ‘Megadisaster,’” by Kevin Krajick and David J. Craig, it is an interview with Columbia’s National Center for Disaster Preparedness Director Jeffrey Schlegelmilch. The center conducts research to help “prevent, prepare for and respond to natural and human-driven disasters on behalf of the United States.” Megadisasters are events that would have “society-altering potential,” like the Black Death in the Middle Ages or the Irish Potato Famine. 

In our century, we are seeing more large-scale disasters, both because of human activity and our vulnerability to them. We are polluting our atmosphere, which is thought to cause more extreme weather, and we are building in flood zones and forested areas susceptible to wildfires. We are also “encroaching into wildlife areas and coming into closer contact with animals harboring exotic pathogens” that then, as we travel, spread across the globe.

Schlegelmilch names five categories of mega risk: climate change, biological perils, infrastructure failures, cyberthreats and nuclear conflict. COVID-19 could have been a megadisaster had we not responded, albeit too slowly, to the extent that we have so far. While we lacked the medical supplies needed to handle a pandemic, we did rapidly develop vaccines, which certainly are helping to control the long-term impact. Climate change, with its prolonged droughts, can cause widespread food and water shortages and their catastrophic consequences. The American Society of Civil Engineers has given the nation a C- grade on the most recent Infrastructure Report Card. Our electric grid might be the biggest problem in this category, since it is “aging, overloaded and quite susceptible to breakdown,” or to terrorist attacks. Remember that millions of people lost electricity in Texas last winter due to a couple of severe storms. More than 2,300 of our dams are structurally worrisome, as are 46,000 of our bridges.

The long-term human toll of disasters needs also to be considered and planned for, especially for children. Those whose lives are severely impacted “are much likelier to suffer anxiety and depression, to display behavioral problems and to struggle in school for years.”

So what can we do to ready our nation for disasters?

We need forward-looking strategies from governmental agencies and the many non-profit organizations to deal with these possibilities. We must demand those. Disaster response, like insurance, which we hope never to need, must be in place. Woe to those who try to catch up with a disaster after it happens. Chaos ensues even with planning. It does to a much more horrific extent without some degree of readiness.

According to Schlegelmilch, disaster preparedness really began in the US in the early 2000s, after 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina. He believes a lot of progress has been made since then. The strength of social bonds among neighbors and within a community makes the biggest difference in how well areas recover after a catastrophe. Also coordinating relief efforts is helped by artificial intelligence, software specifically designed for sifting through a great deal of information, then picking out the critical data for making life and death decisions. Preparedness for biothreats. however, needs attention.

Meanwhile, what can we do to prepare ourselves? 

Whatever the disaster, we will either have to stay at home for long periods or leave immediately, says Schlegelmilch. We should hope neither happens yet prepare for both.

Pixabay photo

Many have asked what has happened to us as a society.

As we prepare to remember the victims of 9/11 in just a few weeks, we are reminded of a time 20 years ago when our communities came together to help each other. We applauded our first responders, offered our shoulders to those who were crying and all of us came together as one. The amount of empathy Americans, as well as those around the world, showed for the victims and their families was awe-inspiring. While 9/11 was a day to remember, 9/12 was just as important because it showed that we could be unified. 

However, the tragedies and issues caused by COVID-19 have left us more divided than ever. Many scratch their heads wondering why people won’t follow the guidance of medical professionals, who last year simply asked us to wear masks and social distance while they figured out the best line of defense against the virus. Despite the significant strides made in medicine over the last few decades, a new form of a virus can still take time to figure out. And then this year, finally the vaccine that we all were waiting for was released, but yet many have refused to get it to help the common good and themselves.

It seems at times we have become selfish and self-absorbed, not worrying about anyone but ourselves. Then again, we shouldn’t be surprised. Look at our roads. More and more drivers engage in reckless driving, whether speeding down the road, weaving in and out of traffic, not pulling over for emergency vehicles or blowing through red lights and stop signs.

In the days of social media, we see too many people believing that their way is the only way and that those who think differently to them are evil or stupid to a point where we don’t respect our fellow citizens.

We have become so selfish and judgmental at times that we forget when we step out our door it’s no longer about us. The world does not revolve around one person, not even one family or social circle. As we navigate through the day, while our feelings and beliefs are valid and should be respected, the same goes for respecting others. We should also listen to each other. Really listen. It can be difficult at times to balance our wants and needs with the desires of others, but it’s the only way we can live together in peace.

Many have said they don’t want a new normal — they just want normal. Yet, it seems as if a new normal is needed, one where people’s actions show that they care about those around them.

It’s been said that learning about our history is important, so we don’t repeat the mistakes of past generations and benefit from the good elements, too. Now, let’s remember the tragic event of 9/11 and its aftermath in order to be reminded of how we united and moved forward during one of the most difficult times in American history.

We did it then and we can do it again — together.  

Image from Pixabay

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

Welcome to Dan Dunaief HS or DDHS. I know it’s an odd time to start a new high school, but children need to learn, even during a pandemic.

Originally, I was planning to have everyone come to a pep rally on the first day of school. After all the restrictions of last year, it only seemed fitting to bring the kids together in the gym and celebrate the chance to sit in 1950s style wooden bleachers that rock when someone walks a few steps.

But, then, I realized we don’t have a basketball, football or squash team, we haven’t picked school colors, we don’t have a school song and, most importantly, we are in a difficult spot with the pandemic.

I know your kids are exhausted from dealing with the virus. Who can blame them? Aren’t we all?

At first, I thought we’d avoid the whole topic and stick to the basics in school.

But, then, it occurred to me that avoiding a virus that has now affected three school years wouldn’t make it better. We can try not to think about it, but that doesn’t make it go away. Information and knowledge will help these students understand the strange world that surrounds them and might empower them to feel as if they’re doing something about it, even if it’s just learning more about a time that future generations will no doubt study carefully, scrutinizing our every move as if we were some kind of early laboratory experiment.

With that in mind, I gave the curriculum serious consideration. I thought about all the standard ways students have learned.

Ultimately, I decided to turn toward the academic vortex. At DDHS, at least for the first year or so, we’re going to encourage students to study the real challenges of the world around them.

For starters, in our art class, we’re going to have design competitions for the front and back of masks. The winners will provide masks that the entire school will wear each week.

Then, in an engineering class, we’ll work on creating masks that are more comfortable and just as effective as the ones that make our faces sweat. Maybe this class can also figure out how to provide words that flash across the mask when we talk, giving people a better idea of what we’re saying behind our masks. Maybe enterprising students can design masks that cool our faces when we sweat and warm them when we’re cold, that shave or bleach unwanted hair or that act like dry-fit shirts, covering our faces without clinging to them.

In history, we’ll spend at least a semester on the Spanish Influenza. We’ll explore what leaders throughout the world did in 1918 during the last pandemic. We’ll see what worked best and what disappointed.

Our psychology class will devote itself to the conflicts between people’s perceptions of infringements on their individual freedoms and their desire to protect themselves and each other by wearing masks.

Our political science course will delve into how politics became enmeshed in the response to the virus. This class will look at which side gains, politically, amid different public health scenarios.

Science classes will explore why some people get incredibly sick from the virus, while others show no symptoms. We will also study the way the virus works, look at similar viruses and try to understand and track the development of variants.

Math will work with the science department to understand the spread of the virus and to plot various scenarios based on human behavior. Eager students in math will have the chance to demonstrate how sicknesses spread depending on the wearing of masks, the use of vaccines, and the creation of new variants.

Our language arts class will provide an outlet for students to express their hopes, dreams and concerns amid the unique challenges in their lifetime created by the pandemic.

Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

The other day, I went to the kitchen sink for some water, and when I turned on the faucet, only a few drops came out, then nothing. Puzzled, I tried it again, shutting then opening the tap. No water. My first thought was that something might be wrong with the pipes in the house. Zipping around, I tried the bathroom sinks. Same result. The water line into the house looked intact, no leaks. This was going to be a big problem, I worried, worse than when the electricity cuts out. I had an awful feeling of deprivation. Where was our water?

It turned out that there was a major leak in the underground water line to our block. Before too long, the Suffolk County Water Authority workers arrived and began digging up the blacktop. It was during those high heat days, and soon the men were drenched in their own sweat, but I admired their work ethic. They kept at the job for a full 12 hours until the line was repaired. We deeply appreciated them and let them know.

I also had a new perspective on having water. We turn the handle and expect to have water to drink, to cook, to clean, to bathe. Yes, I have traveled in other countries where I had to drink bottled water, but nonetheless, water came out of the taps. I follow the news about water shortages around the world, including in our country, but it is with a different perspective now when I see such reports on television. We feel entitled to running water, but we are so privileged. To turn on the faucet and have nothing come out, even for a few hours, is deeply unsettling.

Here is an example where water is a great concern. We know there has been a drought in California for the past two years. Southern California cities have prepared for the worst by building aqueducts and reservoirs and storing water underground. Despite their more arid climate, the south of the state is prepared. Smaller northern California towns, located in what was a more rainy climate, and much loved by tourists, are caught short. Reservoirs there are at worrisome levels and even power-generating dams have had to stop producing electricity because of insufficient water. These are agricultural areas too, and farmers, as well as restaurateurs and innkeepers, are afraid they may have to shut down. To truck in water costs 20 to 45 cents a gallon compared with the typical utility company rate of less than a penny a gallon.

Further, the level of water in the Colorado River and Lake Mead, which is formed by the Hoover Dam, is falling, threatening the water supply for Arizona, New Mexico and Nevada residents and especially Arizona’s agricultural output. Even major semiconductor manufacturers, expanding there, require a lot of water to produce their much needed product. Lake Mead, the country’s largest reservoir, is now at its lowest level ever. The $1 trillion package just passed by the Senate does include water shortage mitigation funds.

Worldwide, over a billion people lack access to water and 2.7 billion find water scarce for at least one month a year. Countries most affected include Egypt, Syria, Somalia, Pakistan, Haiti, Laos, Cambodia, Ethiopia and Afghanistan. The irony is that over 70 % of the earth is covered by water. Desalination, which is an expensive option, could become a solution. There is also water in the air. An Israeli company called, Watergen. pulls water from the air, as much as 6000 liters a day. that is used to support entire hospitals in Gaza and rural villages in central Africa. It also helped Australia battle bush fires in 2020. Further, harvesting the pure water from icebergs is big business along Canada’s east coast.

These are all possible solutions. Perhaps most important is the care we humans must take with our precious supply, not to mindlessly pollute or overuse what we are grateful to have. I am duly reminded how lucky we are.

Pixabay photo

Things aren’t back to normal yet, and unfortunately for a few good weeks, we got a taste of what freedom from the pandemic was like. 

People began getting vaccinated, families were reunited, and parties were officially free of restrictions. 

The people that got vaccinated knew they could still be carriers, but a little cold is better than being on a ventilator, right? 

Businesses were thriving at the start of the summer — after more than a year of having their doors shut and no revenue coming in. 

But things turned pretty quickly, and we’re disappointed now. 

The fact that people threw their masks away when Gov. Andrew Cuomo (D) lifted the state restrictions was not the brightest move — we should have kept the restrictions just a tad bit longer because now we have the Delta variant and it’s not looking too good. 

Since people (vaccinated or not) have had the chance to breathe again, party again and feel 90% normal again, they don’t want to bring back the masks. 

We understand that. They’re uncomfortable and for us ladies, it takes our makeup off rather quick. 

But we’re keeping them on (again) to keep other people safe. 

Remember in the beginning of the pandemic when everyone was all in this together? We thanked first responders and believed the science. What happened? Why is this, all of a sudden, a hoax? 

Some people cannot get vaccinated right now, and that’s okay. But there are other people who are choosing not to and are not being honest about it. They’re either too lazy or too afraid. 

With schools reopening in a few weeks, the debates are increasing as to whether or not children should wear masks in school. Considering those under 12 cannot get vaccinated yet, and many parents have chosen not to have their children get the shot, we feel it’s imperative that students be required to mask up. With the surge of the Delta variant and the possibility of another one, the virus could potentially spread quickly in classrooms and then in the surrounding communities.

New vaccines, new medications and new things are terrifying — but public health is more important, and we still need to be in this together.

COVID-19 is never going to leave, but we can alleviate it. 

Be smart and do your part to keep your loved ones, neighbors and yourself healthy.

Pixabay photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

Years ago, restaurants had smoking and non-smoking sections. Airlines reserved parts of the plane for people who smoked and those who didn’t.

How, after all, were people addicted to nicotine supposed to get through a meal or a plane ride, especially one that could take hours, without lighting up?

Society knew back then that smoking was harmful for the smoker. We knew that each person ran the risk of lung, mouth and throat cancers, among others, from inhaling the toxins in cigarettes.

Slowly, we also started to learn about the dangers of second-hand smoke. People who didn’t light up cigarettes and cigars couldn’t simply move away from that smoke, especially if they were in the same house, the same car, or even, for several hours, on a plane together.

Over time, health officials started to piece together the kind of information that made it clear that non smokers needed protection.

Slowly, restaurants and planes banned smoking. And yet, despite the years of no-smoking policies on planes, the flight attendants or the videos we watch before take off include threats about the consequences of disabling or dismantling smoke detectors in bathrooms.

We also knew, at great cost, that drinking and driving was enormously problematic. People getting behind the wheel after having a few drinks at dinner or while watching a sporting event with their buddies risked the lives of those in their own car, as well as anyone else unfortunate enough to be on the road at the time.

Groups like Mothers Against Drunk Driving and Students Against Drunk Driving came together to fight against habits that put others at risk. While drunk driving still occurs throughout the world, the awareness of the dangers of drinking and driving and, probably just as importantly, the vigilance with which police forces cracked down on people while they were driving impaired has helped to reduce the threat. In 2018, alcohol-impaired driving fatalities was 3.2 per 100,000, which is a drop of 65% since 1982, according to Responsibility.org.

Drunk driving remains a public health threat, with advertisements encouraging people not to let friends drive drunk and organizations like MADD continuing to fight to reduce that further.

While risking the potential for false equivalence, the current pandemic presents similar challenges, particularly regarding wearing masks. Yes, masks are a nuisance and we thought we were done with them, particularly in the early part of the summer when the infection rate declined and vaccinations increased.

With the Delta variant raging throughout the country, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recommends masks for anyone indoors and for those in larger, outdoor settings, regardless of their vaccination status.

Now, living without a mask and drinking or smoking are not the same. Drinking and smoking are riskier activities adults engage in and that are not a basic necessity, like breathing.

At the same time, however, people opting not to wear masks because they don’t want to or because that was so 2020 are risking more than their own health. They are sharing whatever virus they may have, in some cases with people whose health might be much more at risk.

When I’m sweating at the gym, I find the masks uncomfortable and distracting. I do, however, continue to wear them because they are a way to protect other people in the room.

I hope I don’t have COVID-19, but I can’t be sure because I have been vaccinated and I could be an asymptomatic carrier.

Students, many of whom can’t receive the vaccine, are better off learning at school than at home or, worse, in a hospital bed. If you’re not wearing a mask for you, consider putting one on for everyone else. 

Together, we can and will get through what seems like a viral sequel no one wanted. Until there’s a better way, consider wearing a mask to protect others. If people could do it during the Spanish Influenza in 1918 and 1919, we can do it, too.