Earthquake!

So, this last Tuesday, Southern California had its first sizable earthquake in quite some time. A 5.4 quake hit Chino Hills, about 28 miles southeast of downtown LA.

Wouldn't you know it, me, the earthquake baby (the 1971 Sylmar earthquake started mom's labor with me) didn't even feel it! I mean, when the 1994 Northridge quake hit, I was visiting LA for the first time in years since moving away to go to school. (I'd come to town for mom's birthday, actually; we're just a 'natural disaster' birthday family, I guess.)

Everyone has their earthquake stories, though, and our family's were relatively amusing. My husband was on the phone with a client who was having some problem with his computer. He asked the client what he'd done to try to fix the problem himself, and the response was, "Earthquake!" The client was about 10 miles east or so of us, so the quake hit him first. They stayed on the phone for 10 seconds or so (my husband was watching the atomic clock on his computer screen) before they mutually agreed that they should get off the phone and take cover.

Have you ever seen the movie "LA Story" with Steve Martin? There's a scene where they're at a restaurant and an earthquake hits. No one gets up from the table, they all just look around and take guesses at how strong it is. A couple's table shakes by them - the couple eating and drinking as if nothing unusual is happening. While that's taking things to the extreme, it's actually not very far from the truth. Those of us who have ridden out several earthquakes in our lives aren't quite that blase about it, but will often wait to gauge the strength of a quake in order to determine if preventative measures need to be taken to insure our safety.

At the 30 second mark (remember - atomic clock on the computer screen), my husband finally decided that he'd better stand in the doorway. Early on in our marriage, an earthquake hit one Sunday morning while we were still in bed. My mom had trained me well, and I jumped up out of bed and braced myself in the door frame. My husband just watched me from the bed, as I shouted at him to move. He had apparently judged that that particular earthquake didn't call for movement on his part. Sure enough, it wasn't very big, it ended as quickly as it had come, and my husband went back to sleep. Now that I think about it, this happened a couple of other times at our homes in Reno and back down here in LA - he just rode them out. So for this quake to actually spur him to movement meant it was pretty big.

My son was at summer school. No, he didn't need remedial studies; he's taking Theater Arts Workshop. So he and his class were doing a run-through of their play - "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee." Their first indication of the impending quake was the large bay doors rattling. Their teacher - who was watching from the audience - then shouted to the kids to get off the bleachers upon which the 'spellers' were sitting. My son decided to dive under the bleachers, not thinking of the gear swaying over the stage (and his head.) He was well-protected, though. His character happens to have a habit of falling off the bleachers, so he wears a bike helmet on occasion. They'd already passed the point in the run-through where he put on his helmet, so at least his head was covered. He was the last one off the stage - much to his teacher's chagrin - but he did pass through the quake, shaken but unscathed.

However my daughter and I were completely unaware that it had even occurred. I'd just picked her up from acting class (yes, my kids love to act), and was driving her home. In fact, we'd just passed the high school where my son was when it hit. I dropped her off at home and headed out to my massage therapy session. The first I heard of it was when I was on the table and my therapist was asking how I'd handled the quake. Puzzled, I asked her what she was talking about. Apparently, it was severe enough to send the chiropractor, the therapist, and the rest of the staff and patients scurrying outside the building.

All I could say was that I was grateful it had occurred when it did . As it was, I hadn't felt it, and so without my adrenaline pumping, I was able to relax and 'enjoy' my (at times, very painful) massage. If it had struck just 15 minutes later, I would have been on the table, disrobed, and then abandoned by my therapist! I think that therapy session would have been a wash!