Collecting my children’s bagged “personal items” from their school in a socially distanced line while wearing a homemade cloth mask is the most vivid memory I have of the entire coronavirus disaster. There were many other scarier, more stressful situations, but something about that moment — the red polka-dot mask, the empty classroom with only plastic bags on the desks that should have been filled with adorable, rambunctious 5- and 6-year-olds — stays with me.

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