In late March, my friend Sydney sent an email to our quilting group, asking us to make fabric masks for her local police department. More emails flew and we had a video conference to discuss mask materials and patterns. We are all over the age of 60, considered "elderly" in coronavirus times, and not supposed to be out of the house. We look like your mother, grandmother or neighbor. Three days later, several cars met in the Walmart parking lot (I'm not allowed to tell you which one) in what felt like a drug deal.
We each parked more than 6 feet away, and opened one door. Sydney, the ring leader, emerged with garden wire already cut to 7" lengths by her granddaughter and a neighbor boy. Penny climbed out with pieces of interfacing. Others brought elastic or bias tape from their stash. We rotated like social distancing ballerinas, dropping small bags inside each car before returning to our own. I eyed the camera, wondering who was watching us. Karen said she hoped the police would stop us, so we can tell them what we're doing!
The next week, we returned to the parking lot to give Sydney our first batch of masks. When she delivered them, the police officer thanked her for bringing them some protection. In tears, he told her, "My wife has been worried sick about me."