The Whittier Earthquake, 1985

It was breakfast-time before school. I was at the table eating some cereal and reading the Zelda handbook. (I would not play Zelda again for the next two years.) My mom was preparing her own breakfast. The room started to shake, and though I had never experienced an earthquake before I knew what was happening and I knew what to do. I started to crouch under the big wood table. It had over-sized legs because it was an expandable table, designed to support a large load. My mother, however, had the idea in her head that I needed to be in the door jam with her. I was trying to brace myself when she pulled me from safety and back into the kitchen with its high ceilings and its walls covered in breakable dishes. The cabinet doors opened and closed with the waves of the quake. Plates flew around the room and eventually shattered against the floor. I had small cuts on my hands when the shaking stopped.

The rest of my family was in the rest of the house. After the initial rumbling subsided, the five of us crowded together in the other kitchen door. (How we did this, I do not recall. Five of us? Maybe my dad wasn't there. He sure as hell feels there.) My brother was on the phone with a friend. They were having a great time. I was okay, I guess, because everybody else was there.

Later in the day, my brother and his friend were assigned to watch me. I hadn't gone to school because I was a little freaked out. They were 20 years old and energetic and totally spazzed out. They watched the news about the quake and cheered, while I peeked over the couch at the television news. They gave me an Alka-Seltzer for some reason. I liked it.