Sunday afternoon, RB and I were having a snack at the food court of an outlet shopping mall in Southern California. Suddenly, everything in the room began swaying. The floor, the plastic seats we were sitting in, the table, the walls themselves – everything was undulating, sending a hush over the crowd of people.
Everyone started looking around at each other, trying to confirm what was becoming clear: this was an earthquake. Apparently, you’re supposed to get under a solid surface at moments like these – ideally under a table or bed, if there is one. But no one crawled under any tables. In fact, almost as one, people picked up their burgers, fries, etc. and headed for the exits.
The earthquake didn’t last terribly long; by the time we got outside, it had pretty much stopped. In my limited experience with earthquakes (I’ve been in five now, none very strong), this moment is universally met with a kind of giddiness – That was an earthquake! Nothing bad happened to us! This is exciting!
At such moments, I always find myself wondering whether we were near the epicenter of a relatively gentle quake, or whether we were feeling the effects of a far-off, devastating earthquake elsewhere. This time, it was a pretty big quake – 7.2 on the Richter scale. But fortunately, there were few reports of injuries or deaths at its epicenter in Mexico.
I’m a little obsessed with earthquakes these days, as RB and I are buying a house. Earthquake insurance is expensive out here – so much so that many people apparently don’t even bother with it. But we have no choice, as I’m one of those people who tends to think an earthquake is happening every time someone slams a door somewhere. If we didn’t have insurance, I would be a jumpy mess, living in perpetual fear that the big one was just about to happen, and our lovely home was going to fall flat like a pancake. Having insurance at least would mean we wouldn’t lose our whole investment too – even though an earthquake that large would mean there were all kinds of other problems to deal with.
Weirdly, I also lived in relative fear in when I lived in post-9/11 Washington, DC. For several years, whenever I would hear helicopters overhead, or hear a loud bang in the Metro, I would tense up, ready to flee. I don’t think of myself as a particularly paranoid person, but somehow I always am on high alert for these things. I can remember traveling out of DC to some other, less targeted place – Austin, Texas, maybe? Or Jacksonville, Florida? – and breathing a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to worry about potential terrorist attacks.
I’m planning to stay in LA for a long time, so the chances are pretty good that at some point, i’ll experience an earthquake that does some real damage. Why do people choose to live in high-risk places? Is there a serious psychological drawback to living in fear of something that seems inevitable? Or am I more of a worrier than most people?
Sometimes I’m worried about earthquakes, but mostly I don’t think about them. When I moved from Santa Barbara to Minneapolis, the Minnesota natives would comment, “Wow, I could NEVER live in California because of the earthquakes.” Somehow, I prefer the random nature of earthquakes. The predictability of a destructive, demoralizing winter is much worse, imho. Every year a 4- or 5-month pummeling with snow, ice, wind, darkness, and freezing temperatures vs. a completely unpredictable (and yet potentially highly destructive) shaking by an earthquake? No contest. I’ll take the latter. (Of course, I might change my mind if and when the really big one hits.)
Nobody wants to talk about earthquakes? Then how about… this?
For my entire life, Parrish, I’ve felt similarly giddy whenever I was lucky enough to experience an earthquake–it was always fun! exciting! or at least not boring! But, I’ve gotta say, that recent earthquake was terrifying. There are two reasons for my attitude change, including the recent memories of some quite-devastating earthquakes. But the main reason is that I now live in downtown LA, on the 8th floor of a rather old and tall building, which apparently makes a 7.2 Mexico quake seem like The End Of The World… (this was compounded by the fact that I’m convalescing from knee surgery and not particularly mobile, though I did make it over to the bathroom doorway in record time…) Anyway, I’m glad others at least felt it. Most of the people I talked to were, like, huh?
Having grown up in L.A. and having been in several very large earthquakes, I’m a little ashamed to admit that they still scare me, although after the fact I find it all very exciting. But my fear is mainly that I’m not sure that the current quake is just a precursor to a much huger, scarier one. As soon as things settle down and my adrenaline is flowing, I feel very giddy and excited that I got to experience such a rare event. I don’t think about or worry about earthquakes too much in between times – perhaps that’s from having lived with them as part of the fabric of events in Ca. Sadly, I didn’t feel the latest one, nor have I felt any of the aftershocks.
Living in the Shaky Isles as I do, I think that sometimes there is just no real alternative to just living with it. In Auckland, where I live along with 1/3 of the nation’s population, there are 50 or more volcanic cones, right in the city. It’s the kind of volcanic field where every time it blows, it’s in a new place. The last cone, Rangitoto, is in the Waitemata Harbour, to the east. That went off about 400 years ago, pre-European contact, so this is part of why we are complacent. We are long overdue another. But do we care? Not much, despite televised urgings to have emergency kits prepared. Lake Taupo, in the middle of the North Island, is a massive volcanic crater. When that blew it was recorded in Rome and China, about 2000 years ago. I think when we think at all, we think, Eh, what are you going to do? Also, the slow creep of the tectonic plates last year moved us about 30cm (1 foot) toward Australia. We are planning an incredibly slow and stealthy take over. They won’t know what him ‘em.
I’m sorry to admit that I found this last earthquake kind of enjoyable. Here in Long Beach, it seemed like the earth just giving us a friendly little nudge — kind of like a “Hey, what’s up dawg?”
Our house is on a bluff above the ocean that is eroding at the rate of half an inch a year. (Unfortunately that’s an average rate — nothing much happens for a while, then another row of trees disappears. When her front yard disappeared our neighbor decided to move her house back 100 feet, but we’re already backed into the next hillside.) When I bought 9 years ago I figured that I’d probably outlive the house and the uncertainty was worth it for the spectacular view. Now that I have small kids the bluff needs to last a few decades longer, and we’re building massive rock walls.
4: Oh my, Jermajesty! Considering the fact that most people I know in LA didn’t feel much of anything, that building of yours will probably be a real thrill ride in a stronger quake! Funny – it’s not something you’d think of when looking at a place to live, but now you’ll be feeling every little tremor. I’m sure your building is built to stringent earthquake specifications, though.
7: I hate to say it, ERsP, but this seems scarier to me than the earthquakes, as it seems more inevitable. We may well all survive decades without seeing a really big quake in LA (knock wood), but the erosion of your bluff seems a bit more certain to happen. I hope it does move really slowly, though, or that the walls can shore you up. No pun intended.
“Jermajesty” = best new nom de Whatsit in years
I was disappointed to have been in the air when the quake hit–I had no idea till I heard about it later. I need to shout out to the title of this post, though!