Twenty-two years ago today, I was watching the “Battle of the Bay” pre-game show for the World Series – Giants vs. Athletics – when all the sudden, the house began rockin’. I got into a doorjamb and grabbed Maxine, the lady my wife and I were living with at the time, and I held her as all her wall-mounted plates went crashing to the ground all around us. The TV was still on, and you could hear Al Michaels panicking, and then nothing – the signal went out.
The quake didn’t last long, but it seemed to last an eternity. When it was over, Maxine and I went around the house to assess the damage. All the dishes in the kitchen cabinets had shaken out and had fallen on the floor; the only ones that remained had been in the dishwasher. The refrigerator had moved completely across the kitchen. The microwave and stand had as well. I smelled gas, so I quickly went to shut off the valve and then the electrical panel.
My wife was teaching about three miles away. I knew that she’d have to stay with the kids until the parents picked them up. I decided to go help her out. Riding my bike there rather than driving was a great decision; every road was bumper to bumper. When the last child was picked up, we went home together. The sun was starting to set. All of us in our cul-de-sac decided to set up tables and chairs in the street, empty our refrigerators, and have a leftover party. I also wheeled my gas grill out front so we could cook. That was the evening I found out that my neighbor is allergic to nuts. I nearly killed her with some tamarind chutney I had made (I was taking an Indian cooking class at the time!). She got all puffy, but lived.
No electricity, no gas, no water, no phones for three days. Bottled water, batteries and flashlights became premium items and stores charged accordingly. It took us about that long to clean up all the mess. On day three, our cell phones worked again and I could finally call my parents to say that I was alive. They told me about all the damage that they had seen in the area on the news, and how many lives had been lost. I only knew the numbers because I had a car radio I could listen to. Later that day, electricity was restored and I could finally see the carnage for myself. It was bad. A week later, the gas inspector came by and we could turn on the gas. Good thing too, it was beginning to get cold in the evenings. A month after that, our chimney got inspected and was deemed good enough to use.
Twenty-two years later, I can’t help but think that we’re due for another big one. I should be more prepared than I am.