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OXFORD, Mass. – When Phil Davis learned earlier this month that a person in his hometown had contracted Eastern equine encephalitis, or EEE, it wasn’t long before he decided to act.
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Davis knew about the rare but deadly mosquito-borne illness from a prior outbreak in the state that started in 2019. The town was placed on alert and Davis, the president of Oxford Little League, remembered canceling weekday practices and rescheduling games.
This time, though, Davis was fed up. He was done with being told what to do without being heard, done with taking anything else away from children who had lived through the forced closures of the coronavirus pandemic.
“I don’t believe anybody came out of covid saying that it was the best thing for their kids to lock them in the house,” said Davis, 50. “We all felt like living scared isn’t the right way to live.”
Hundreds of parents have since signed a petition urging town officials not to restrict playing times for youth sports including baseball, football, cheerleading and soccer. So many attended a recent meeting of the local health board that the deputy fire chief began turning people away.
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In Oxford, one of four towns in central Massachusetts deemed at “critical” risk for EEE, residents are responding with a mixture of defiance, caution and fatalism, all informed by their own experiences during the pandemic.
Parents are saying they are the right people to assess the risks to their own children, while town officials are emphasizing the importance of prevention, particularly for a disease with no treatment.
EEE – or “triple E” – has been present in marshy areas of Massachusetts since at least 1938 and probably much longer, public health officials say. The virus is spread by infected mosquitoes, who acquire it from feeding on birds and transmit it by biting humans and other mammals such as horses. The majority of people bitten by infected mosquitoes don’t develop symptoms.
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According to the CDC, an average of 11 cases are diagnosed nationwide each year but about a third of patients die. So far in 2024, Massachusetts has reported two cases, while Vermont, New Jersey and Wisconsin have each reported a single case. New Hampshire announced this week that an adult, identified by media reports as a 41-year-old man, had died after contracting the illness.
Catherine Brown, the chief epidemiologist for Massachusetts, said EEE comes in cycles, with a couple of years of intense activity typically followed by several years of quiet. The local case announced earlier this month – a man from Oxford in his 80s who was hospitalized – was the first in Massachusetts since 2020.
Brown added that over the past fifteen years, new hot spots for the virus have emerged in the state, something she attributed partly to climate change, which is producing a longer mosquito breeding season and altering migratory paths for birds.
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For towns at the highest level of risk for EEE, the state strongly recommends restricting public group activities between dusk and dawn. The town of Plymouth announced last week that public parks would close at dusk and athletic leagues would be prohibited from continuing activities beyond that time.
Oxford – together with the neighboring towns of Webster, Sutton and Douglas – urged residents to avoid outdoor activity at peak mosquito hours between dusk and dawn. It also posted warning signs at parks, tennis courts, basketball courts and dog parks. In bold letters, the signs say that the spaces will close at 6 p.m. until the end of September and at 5 p.m. in October “in accordance with the Public Health Advisory below.”
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Town officials stress that these are recommendations, not a ban, but confusion was rife, particularly in the lead-up to a contentious Aug. 21 meeting of the local board of health.
At the meeting, the chair read a memo from the town manager saying that sports leagues could continue to use public fields past those hours so long as they have the requisite insurance and sign a letter indemnifying the town. Meanwhile, the school district told the director of public health that it would comply with the recommended 6 p.m. closure for its fields.
“We’re putting things in place for the safety of all of you players and all of you students, so you don’t get sick,” said Kerrie Singer, the board of health’s chair, visibly frustrated. The attendees were equally frustrated when they discovered the meeting was not open to public comment. “Please don’t do this to our kids,” someone in the crowd called out as the board wrapped up.
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The 72-year-old Little League decided to chart its own path. It would end practices half an hour before dusk, which this week occurs at nearly 8 p.m., adjusting as the days grow shorter. It encouraged players to wear long sleeves and apply repellent.
Andy Gambaccini, a parent and the league’s vice president, cleared out a nearby Walmart of its entire stock of anti-mosquito citronella bracelets to distribute to players. In a Facebook post, the league encouraged parents to make their own choices about the possible risks and said they would issue refunds to any families who decided not to participate in the fall season. No one pulled out in response, Davis said.
At 5:15 p.m. on Wednesday, a group of 10- and 11-year-old boys gathered at Oxford’s town-owned Stanley Johnson field, for their first practice of the fall season. It was a hot, nearly cloudless day and the outfield grass glowed in the sun.
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Shaughn Dunlavey, the coach, has a son on the team and began by checking in with his players. I’m sure you’ve all heard about EEE, he told them. Then he asked if everyone was okay about being there. None of the kids voiced any worries, and Dunlavey moved to the next item on the agenda: Who wanted to pitch and who didn’t.
Jen Callahan, the town manager, said local officials never instituted a curfew or a ban on outdoor activities. They jumped into action as soon as they learned of the local EEE case on Aug. 16, pushing out an automatic public safety alert to residents’ phones. They rescheduled town events due to take place after dusk. The White House reached out to offer resources if needed, Callahan said.
Callahan, 60, a former nurse, said she understood residents’ concerns about the impact of the advisory on their quality of life. At the same time, she said, there was also someone from Oxford critically ill with the virus. “You just have to take everything in a measured way,” Callahan said.
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Some people talked about shifting their behavior and becoming hyper-alert to mosquito bites. By the shore of a lake in neighboring Webster, Bob Gordon and Ellen Thompson were playing table tennis late Wednesday afternoon. The couple, both 72, had adjusted their routines: not mowing their lawn at dusk, moving their evening card game with friends indoors.
Gordon is a drummer, and his band, Cosmic Slim and His Intergalactic Plowboys, recently played an outdoor gig 20 miles to the north. The mosquitoes were plentiful and the musicians made liberal use of a DEET-based repellent. Still, Gordon saw a bite on his left forearm. “It’s the first time I ever went, ‘Uh oh,’” he said.
Back at the baseball field, the town’s 6 p.m. closure time came and went. The shadows lengthened and the heat of the day started to ease. The boys practiced base running and catching flyballs. Four teenagers engaged in a game of two-on-two at a nearby basketball court.
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At the dog park next to the field, Terry Benson’s 4-year-old reddish-brown Irish setter mix was racing around the fenced-in circle. Benson had seen the sign saying the space closed at 6 p.m., but he had also read the fine print, which states the hours are part of a set of recommendations. He knew he was using it at his own risk.
Benson, 69, had taken precautions: he was wearing long sleeves and pants and had applied mosquito repellent. For 25 years, he worked as a nurse. He knew EEE was deadly but also exceptionally rare. He didn’t plan to change the evening routine for him and his dog Penny unless the number of EEE cases increased.
He made a balancing motion with his hands to mimic the weighing of risks. “I’m more of the opinion that I just want to live my life,” Benson said.
Just after 7 p.m., Dunlavey and his coaches began wrapping up the Little League practice. They brought in the bases and raked the running paths. Dunlavey handed out jerseys, much to the delight of his players. The practice had gone well, he said, and he was looking forward to the team’s first game.
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