This week I did.
In northern Virginia.
I was scrapbooking, a hobby I enjoy and very rarely practice, since it involves lots of set-up time and material preparation, leaves a big mess, and therefore involves a lot of clean-up. A rare DONKAH Day (day off, no kids at home) when the house was already some semblance of "clean" and I felt like I could get away with doing something slightly self-indulgent. In retrospect, I realize Quincy the dog was acting unusual. He was planted firmly on my feet under the table. Every five minutes or so, he would get up, walk around the legs on my chair, and sit back down on my feet. After the third time, I assumed he needed to relieve himself and opened the back door. He was not interested in being outside at all; my feet were all he wanted. There was a low-grade rumble. Big truck going by? Low-flying plane (we live close to a major airport)? Quincy was up like a light. I noticed the chandelier swinging madly overhead. My pictures were dancing on the table, pens fell to the floor. I heard a mild crash upstairs.
In a split second, I realized this was an earthquake. I was taken back to Springdale Elementary School, to the sound of our principal's voice on the crackly announcement system. Racking my brain for which type of "cover" to take: stop, drop & roll? Duck and cover in a little pod on the floor against an inside wall? File outside quickly and in an orderly fashion? Door frame--that was it! Low or high in the building? I was in the middle level of our three-story townhouse, so I figured I'd just stay there. I got over to the door frame of the stairs that lead to the lowest level and arched myself in it, hands covering my head.
The once-protective SuperDog was now in the corner of the living room, howling and running in a circle, as if to say, "I tried to warn you, lady, but now that it's here, you're on your own." By the time I got to the door frame, the rumble had stopped, and I felt a bit silly for even taking cover. I looked outside, to see if there was anything damaged outside. Cars still parked as usual, trees blowing lightly in the breeze, sun shining, birds singing. No big gashes in the earth, no screams for help. Perhaps it wasn't an earthquake after all? The movies--and the warnings of my childhood--painted a very scary picture, and this was not it.
A sign of the times: I immediately logged on to see if this was an earthquake and if others felt it. A "breaking news" story, posted 44 seconds before, confirmed it. Facebook posts from local friends confirmed it. I tried to call Peter, who was driving home from Richmond (closer to the epicenter than I), but the cell service wouldn't go through. Too many other curious and perhaps concerned loved ones trying to connect. My Internet connection slowed down, for the same reason, I guess.
Analysis indicates a 5.8 magnitude earthquake, with an epicenter about 80 miles from here and felt all along the eastern seaboard. Government buildings were evacuated and then closed for the rest of the day--and in some cases, for the next day, too, to check for structural damage. The Washington Monument's stones were cracked, the National Cathedral lost some small decorative spires. No one was hurt or killed. People were a little shaken, but all in all, we were 100% fortunate. If you watched the aforementioned 24-hour news channels, you might think this was a tragic event. Sensationalism rules--and sells. I suppose in some ways it was a near-miss. It could've been bad, but it really really wasn't. Locals here joked about the coverage of it. Here's a picture posted on Facebook and accompanied by comments like "8/23/11: we will never forget" and "so sorry for your loss" and "praying for all those affected." Good for a chuckle!
Where were you for the shake, rattle and roll of 2011?
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