Earthquake Run Down

I may or may not have mentioned that I lived the lion's share of my life in California.  You know, beaches, mountains, the Governator, Hollywood, Disneyland, earthquakes.  I've been pretty close to a number of earthquakes.  The first one that I recall really well occurred when I was in the 7th grade at Healdsburg Junior High.  I was on the second floor in math class.  Our desks were hooked together in groups of three or four by means of rails on the bottom.  I sat at the beginning of one of the railed together groups, and at the rear end of my group was Ralph Pavoni, a notorious prankster whose father was the Fire Chief.  Not that that has anything to do with what occurred, but, well, he WAS the Fire Chief's kid.....

There I was, working my 7th grade algebra when my desk started wobbling back and forth wildly--I immediately turned about and shot a look at Ralph, figuring that he was responsible for the long dark pencil mark that was made across my paper at the moment of the first upheaval.   Ralph was white as a sheet, and I heard a cracking sound from above.  So I looked up.  I was always observant like that, you know.  The overhead lights were swaying back and forth with abandon.  They looked like they might fall at any moment.  Someone said "earthquake", and Mr. Danhausen told us that we were going to get up and walk outside.  Which we did.  As I recall, Biasotti's market was closed for several days cleaning up the mess.

The point is, I know what an earthquake feels and looks like.  I was around for the '89 Loma Prieta quake too.

A few years ago, we moved from the general craziness of California in favor of the general craziness of NorthEast Ohio.  You know, Ohio State Buckeyes,  the misery of rooting for the Cleveland Browns and Indians, lake Erie, tornado warnings (which we're under as as I write this).

Yesterday at a little before 2:00 PM, I was sitting at my desk on the second floor of my house.  I felt the unmistakable rolling of an earthquake--lasted a paltry 30 or 40 seconds tops, but it was, well, unmistakable.  I got up, went into our bedroom, and asked my bride if she had felt the earthquake that had just occurred.  Her reply?  Glad you asked.  She replies "No, are you certain that you're not having a stroke?".....or words to that effect.  So I turned on the news and was immediately vindicated.  A 5.8 centered in Virginia.  OK--5.8.  Not the biggest I've been around.  But pretty big for Virginia.  Or Ohio.

That's the total story, except fort this post script:  My friend Roy Wallis, who still lives in California, sends me this picture, and titles it "East Coast Earthquake Devastation". 

Carnage






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