After more than a week of being holed up inside due to the toxic haze that had settled over the Bay Area, after I’d sealed my windows with blue painter’s tape, ran an air purifier in the bedroom and put on an N95 mask anytime I stepped outside, I felt trapped, with a disturbing cough deep in my chest.
I sent a desperate email to a friend who lives in Beijing with her two children: Do you have any tips for getting through this?
We had a long Skype call, in which she showed me a glimpse of her world: specialized masks with a changeable filter and silicone seals that give her and her children the look of fighter pilots.
During periods of bad outdoor air quality, they go from bubble to bubble of clean air, to other similarly outfitted apartments.
They have the routine down: Before heading out, her children know to check the monitor to see if they need their masks that day.
No different, say, than the hand-cranked radio, canned goods and gallons of water we in the Bay Area are supposed to have on hand in case of an earthquake, or the preparations people elsewhere take when preparing for a blizzard, stocking up on supplies, or a hurricane, like installing storm shutters.
These are the risks we weigh, and the safety measures we take, to remain where we are.
On the outside looking in, some may take the attitude, “I couldn’t live like that.” And yet, don’t we have to admit that our options are closing, due to climate change?
His grandmother, who has since recovered, has installed an air purifier in every room and wears her mask when the air quality worsens.
Her columns appear Fridays in Datebook.