October 17, 2007
Remembering the Loma Prieta Earthquake
There are landmark times in all of lives, moments that remain forever in our memories. Some are joyful and amazing - the birth of a child, a special time with loved ones, the discovery of a beautiful place you know you’ll always hold dear. Others are jarring and harsh, bringing shock and scars. October 17, 1989 brought the latter. Many across the US had just settled in front of their TVs to watch the Battle of the Bay, that historic World Series between the Giants and the A’s. I was still in my office. I worked long hours in those days. I’d finished an inspection in the hills above Oakland and spent an hour in traffic, commuting back to my office in Belmont. The Cypress Freeway, the Bay Bridge and finally the 101 brought me to my destination. I settled at my desk, my canine partner in the cubby beneath my desk. A co-worker and I set to work in compaionable silence, turning the day’s fieldwork into reports. I wanted to complete one rather complex report before picking up the next day’s assignments and heading home to finish my paperwork in front of the tv. It was 5:04 when the impossible happened. The building began to move, shimmying and shaking. Being new to such pheonomena, it took me a heartbeat or two to realize - earthquake! Not a little bump like the few I’d felt before, this one rolled and jarred and shook, on and on for what felt like an eternity. I watched ceiling tiles dance and office supplies and equipment slide off of desks and countertops. I had just grasped what was happening when my friend yelled, “Get under the desk! Get under the f-ing desk!” He was a native, soft-spoken and unflappable, not given to such language, so I knew then that this was not one of the little temblors that Californians, for the most part, laugh about and endure. Our dogs began barking wildly and security alarms started to blare from buildings and cars. And then ~it ~just ~stopped. I was frightened and shaking as we dashed outside, secured our dogs in the vans and moved them away from the building, waiting … waiting to see if more was to come. The aftershocks were mild, though, and we went back inside after a few moments to do a quick assessment. Some ceiling tiles down, contents of desks and cabinets strewn about, but no real damage. We secured the office, reset the alarm and headed out for home. Signal lights were inoperative and traffic crawled at a snail’s pace. As darkness fell people appeared at intersections, using flashlights to guide us smoothly on our way. I wanted to get home. I needed to see my son, to know that he was okay, though in some part of my mind I knew that this was just life as usual on a fault line for those more seasoned. An hour crawled by - or was it two? My anxiety mounted, though I kept chanting to myself - “It’s okay. It’s over.” When I finally found a working radio signal I new that it wasn’t. The first voice I heard shouted “The Bay Bridge has fallen!”
I was near breaking point with anxiety when I finally pulled into my aparment garage, in a building just above the San Andreas fault. The lights were out here, too, but I felt calmer, more grounded just to be home. I found a flashlight and candles and finally, a note from my son. “Mom - game cancelled. Walking down to Pacifica to see a movie.” He didn’t know either, until he found darkness at the end of his hike, that the entire Bay Area was on hold. It was morning before most of us knew the worst. My son and I had watched the red glow of San Francisco burning from our balcony, but had only bits of information until the next day when we turned on the tv. The Bay Bridge was not destroyed, but it was badly damaged. It was the Cypress Freeway, though, that shocked us and held our attention. Giants slabs and tumbled heaps of concrete, entombing the dead and the living alike. The smoke, the fires, the horrendous screech as buidlings and roadways were ripped apart in the search for survivors. We watched in shock and gradually grasped the magnitude of the disaster that had reshaped the landscape and imprinted itself on our minds forever. We watched the Marina District Burn. We watched as shocked and angry survirors tried to rescue friends under piles of rubble in Santa Cruz, holding out hope when they knew that hope was gone. And we watched as a freeway was deconstructed, bit by tiny bit. True heroes, professionals and civilians alike, burrowed into the twisted wreckage. We watched them disappear into the nightmare and we watched them emerge, somtimes with empty arms, sometimes burdened the living or the dead. Miracles of discovery kept us all going as survivors were pulled from that concrete and steel sandwich, days and even weeks after the earth stopped moving. Like all good citizens, we all did our part to reclaim “normal.” The World Series restarted. We returned to work and school and play, but with a new awareness of the fragility of life and the preciousness of friends and family.
It was nineteen years ago today, but is as fesh in memory as if it were yesterday to those of us who were there. The Bay Area survived, rebuilt, wiser and stronger for what was learned. We’ve moved on. Today at 5:04, though, a few million people will pause to remember, to mourn, to celebrate the resilience of the human spirit. Candles will be lit. Prayers will be said. Stories will be told. This is mine. I suffered no great injury or loss, had no personal tragedy associated with that day - only an emotional jolt, long since scarred over. The scar remains though, and on this day it opens a bit, reminding me that some events in life’s passage mark us forever.
[tags]earthquake, Loma Prieta Earthquake, remembrance, San Francisco eathquake, World Series Earthquake[/tags]
Posted by skeet @ 12:12 pm • Environment, Video
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October 17th, 2007 at 1:02 pm, Jules Says:
Oooh, that gave me chills. I remember that day and weeks that followed so vividly. I lived in Los Angeles, and we all felt the pain of our friends to the North.
October 18th, 2007 at 4:34 pm, Whim Says:
“The scar remains though, and on this day it opens a bit, reminding me that some events in life’s passage mark us forever.”
Amen.