25 years ago today: the Loma Prieta Earthquake. Epicenter = a few miles south of our home in Santa Cruz. I was 4 minutes into piano lesson with a 12-yr-old girl who had recently moved to Santa Cruz from New York. When the rumbling became enormous, I put an arm around her shoulders and guided her under our grand piano. (My thinking was, if things fell like ceiling or vases from the high shelf, wed be okay. Wed only not be okay if the floor gave way.) I attempted to reassure her, saying, Wow, this is an earthquake, its a pretty big one, and it will be over any second now, any second now it will be over, theyre usually not this big. The deep bass sound was overwhelming, and above it was the sound of glass breaking everywhere, inside and outside. And then it was indeed over. Seventeen seconds they say. We went into the front yard to wait for her mother to pick her up. It took that woman 25 minutes to retrace a 5-minute drive. Everyone had immediately set out to check on loved ones, and the roads were totally clogged. A few minutes after the quake, a large aftershock occurred while we were outside waiting on the front lawn. Our black cat Beannie Worm was there too, and was sent on a crazy, full-speed, zigzag panic run across the yard, like a quarterback. My husband was at UCSC in a first floor office, and was fine. Our two young sons were at Ocean View Park, with their babysitter, on the swings, where the sand under them began to act like ocean waves, and their swings hopped, but they were fine. We all slept that night in a front room of our Windham Street house, the only room without broken glass. Our younger son, 2 and a half, would not let go of his father, and had to be held until, after a long while, he fell asleep. For weeks he would point to cracks in the sidewalk or pavement and say, Look, aftershocks! And he and his older brother played The Rubble Game, in which they would take turns rescuing each other from beneath whatever might be there to fall upon them (but mostly blankets, pillows, and couch cushions). I particularly remember the tent city that was set up downtown, and the ways in which everyone helped their neighbors, and commerce continued, and deep loyalties were formed. Out of the ashes: Phoenix. I also remember despising the constant loud drones of news helicopters. Despicable gawkers, they made me so angry. And my heavens, there were so many aftershocks. They would really spin your adrenalin wheels, baby.
Posted on: Thu, 16 Oct 2014 08:07:33 +0000
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