First of all, let me declare that I am not deaf. But, like many men married for more than a few years, my wife begs to differ. Evidently, there are many times in a day when I don’t answer a question or I give my answer several minutes after the question was asked. Of course, June still doesn’t seem to understand that my powers of concentration are so amazing that I don’t hear anything if I am:

A. Watching a Red Sox game

B. Watching a Giants game

C. Watching a UConn game

D. Watching a movie

E. Doing a crossword puzzle

F. Playing a game on my iPad

G. Taking a nap

H. Reading the paper or a magazine

You probably get the idea. Luckily, my wife is so understanding that we are still happily married after 43 years, or so she tells me.

We also frequently play “volume ping pong” on the TV. I like the volume set at 20; she prefers 15. I find that at 15, I am almost constantly asking what someone just said, especially in those romances or mysteries where all the characters are whispering to each other. Actually, I can only hear the whispers with the volume at 48.

That brings us to the practice of wearing a mask. Believe me, I do my patriotic duty. I wear my mask everywhere it is required. Stores, schools, any indoor place that asks for compliance. And I will continue, even though I have gotten my two Pfizer vaccinations. I’ll do anything they ask me to. I have to obey the rule; I went to Catholic schools.

But the fact that I wear a mask doesn’t mean I have to like it. Breathing is a lot easier without it, but that is not my primary reason for disliking my mask. Up until this pandemic, I never was really aware of how important it is for a person of my hearing level to actually see someone’s mouth while they are talking. It really does help considerably in understanding what was said.

There are so many times these days where I am conversing with someone, and they will come out with a comment of “mmmimph nabder usdym calidgim.”
Now what am I supposed to answer?

I usually nod my head knowingly, and hope the nod alone will suffice. It usually does. But there are times my companion just keeps looking at me, awaiting my reply. Then I have to try to change the subject, or give a generic, harmless reply like, “Wow.”

Still, there are the other times when the whole mask issue just gets me in major trouble. About a month ago, I met a close friend at the grocery store, and I asked how she was doing. With her mask on, I thought I heard her say, “My son, Henry, just made the honor role.”

I replied with an enthusiastic, “That’s great! Congratulations.”

It turns out she really said, “My hemmoroids just flared up.”

I haven’t heard from her since.

I really want this pandemic to be over.