As a native Californian, earthquakes have always been a normal part of life–literally. Growing up, I was reminded many times by my mom, that the Sylmar earthquake, a big one, happened just a month after I was born. Have you ever seen the old movie L.A. Story? The scene below isn’t that far off from reality. If it’s 4-ish and under, meh. And while we can mostly take them in stride, the threat of a “big one” is still scary.
When earthquakes happen in other parts of the world, like the recent ones in Taiwan or NJ/NY, dormant thoughts of our own earthquake possibilities awaken. Does this mean we’re next? Or does this buy us some time until it’s our turn?
One of my most memorable earthquake moments happened in 1987, when I was in high school. It wasn’t the biggest one I’ve experienced, but I have some vivid memories of that day.
My mom was out of town when it happened–I can’t remember if she was in Taiwan or Las Vegas, either was plausible. That meant Dad was in charge of the three of us. In order to get us all to school on time and himself to work, he took my youngest sister and me in the car for drop offs and left my middle sister, just 7 years old at the time, at home. She was to wait a short time for our neighbor and her daughter to pick her up and walk to across the street to school. Only, just a few minutes after we had left…earthquake!
My dad and I had just dropped off my sister at preschool and were on the way to the high school when it happened. Since we were driving, it wasn’t exactly clear what was happening when the car seemed to start rumbling. Was something wrong with the engine? Did a big truck just rumble by? Oblivious to the natural disaster that had just occurred, my dad dropped me off curbside and was on his way. As I walked onto campus…aftershock! Everyone was ushered onto the football field for safety. (Rumor had it there was a fault line just under our field.) After what felt like an eternity, we were dismissed to go home.
When I got home, I found my dad and middle sister already there. But where was our baby sister?
“Dad, where’s Mar?” I asked with a slight panic.
“She’s still at school. They didn’t call me,” he answered casually.
“What?! You can’t leave here there! We have to pick her up! I’m going to pick her up!” I grabbed the car keys and was on my way.
When I arrived at the preschool, my sister was eating her snack at the table like it was any other day. A true Californian.
If you’re wondering about my 7-year old sister, she told us that she was just about to take a bite of toast when the shaking started. Luckily, our neighbor ran over to check on her right away and she was fine.
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