Today is the 15-year anniversary of a day that began with sheer terror. It was early (like still dark outside) on Monday morning, Martin Luther King Jr. day. In fact, it was 4:31 a.m. when we were awakened by a terrible noise. It was as if a locomotive were racing through our small two-bedroom California townhome. And it wasn’t only the noise; the ground shuddered and groaned.
Kara yelled, “My babies!” but I was already instinctively racing toward their room. The hallway wall pitched a nearly a foot, almost knocking me off my feet. I stumbled into their room, to find them both blissfully asleep. A plastic vertical blind had fallen onto 3-year-old Amanda, but it hadn’t wakened her. I scooped her up and Kara grabbed our 6-month-old son and we huddled in their doorway. We knew it was an earthquake, and we hoped we were standing on the epicenter. If so, perhaps it was “only”a 5 or 6 on the Richter scale.
It turns out that the epicenter was in Reseda, CA. about 15 miles away, magnitude 6.7. (The media dubbed it “The Northridge Quake” before physicists could pinpoint the epicenter.) At that time, my parents and four of my brothers lived in Simi Valley, which is much closer. My sister was actually living in Northridge and both of the apartment buildings adjacent to hers collapsed. I asked her later if she and her husband were impelled to their one-year-old as we were to our children and she said, “Of course, but we could not get out of our bed.”
If you’ve never experienced such a quake, be glad.
The day did have a bright spot though. One of my brothers became a father that day, as his wife delivered their first child that afternoon, a boy. Happy birthday Jake!
2 comments:
I almost forgot about the anniversary. I think I need to do a write up about that day. thanks for the reminder.
Yeah, you guys were real close. And real pregnant. It must have kinda ruined your last kid-free morning!
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