It's amazing how much impact 15 seconds can have on your life.
I found that out when the 7.1 earthquake hit the Bay area Oct. 17. Until then, I never realized how many thoughts could run through a person's mind in such a short time.I was on the Geary Boulevard bus when the quake hit. Geary is similar to Salt Lake City's 700 East - a major thoroughfare that runs from the city's east end (Financial District) west to the Pacific Ocean. I was 10 blocks from home, sitting in the back of this very crowded, not even standing-room bus.
Suddenly, the bus jerked to a stop, and a woman up front yelled, "Oh my God!" I thought we had hit a car, but the bus kept shaking, and for another split-second I thought we must be in a pile-up.
Everyone, including me, was in a hurry to get home to see the third game of the 1989 World Series on TV. My husband, Peter, and I had gone to games one and two in Oakland; we were excited to watch the A's beat the Giants.
But now I was in the back of a shaking bus. I looked out the window and saw cars bouncing on the street. Literally.
I can't say I was scared. I had felt more than a few quakes in the two years I had lived here. And I remember feeling one in Utah, too. And even though Utahns learn at a young age about the dangers of an earthquake, you never really believe it will happen.
As the quake continued, I grabbed the seat in front of me and became anxiety-ridden since I was stuck in the back. It seemed impossible to get out because I was the furthest from the door. Meanwhile the bus kept on shaking.
I thought about Peter being home. I knew he was there because he wouldn't want to miss the pre-game show. I only hoped he was standing in a doorway, away from the sliding glass windows in our apartment.
And the quake kept going.
I couldn't believe I was stuck on a bus during this jolting quake with all these people I didn't know. Earthquake drills in my third-grade class at Kaysville Elementary School in Davis County never focused on what to do if you are on a bus when the earth starts rippling. Had I been in a classroom, I would have known to crawl under my desk.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the low, guttural rumbling stopped.
The bus continued down Geary. I got off at my stop and walked quickly home. I had given up any idea of shopping. Even though I didn't realize the magnitude of the quake, it seemed much more important to be home.
I noticed that stores along my walk home didn't have power and the traffic lights were out. Broken glass was piled like snow beneath spots where giant windows once stood. And if the glass in the windows hadn't completely burst from the building, it was cracked like a spider's web. In other buildings, bricks had crumbled to the sidewalk. Passers-by walked hurriedly over everything.
It was beginning to dawn on me that this was not one of those "usual" tremors that Californians are accustomed to.
I reached our third-floor apartment, about 10 minutes after the quake. Peter was standing in the middle of a cluttered mess. The bubble of our safe home had been popped, and I wondered why we had left the Salt Lake Valley for this trembling ocean-side city.
Our apartment looked as if it had been ransacked. Anything that had hung on the walls was on the floor. Stereo speakers had fallen over. Dishes and glasses had burst from their shelves. A five-pound jar of sugar was hurled so roughly from its cabinet that the lid had come off, spilling the contents over the kitchen. There were some irreplaceable items that had been broken too - special glasses, a ceramic vase given to us a few Christmases ago.
Peter said he thought it was more than "just another quake." As soon as it ended, he was on the phone to a friend in Salt Lake City, asking him to tape the game because we had no power. After all, the Series surely had to go on.
Peter grew up in the Bay area, and like many Californians, he is inconvenienced but not surprised by earthquakes. He was watching the pre-game show and the force of the quake was so strong that the TV had started to jump off its stand. He didn't move to a doorway - it seemed more important to keep the TV and VCR from tumbling to the floor. He saved the equipment and has a six-inch bruise to dramatize his odd heroism.
Despite the broken windows, the crumbled bricks and the flying TV, the idea of this shaker being the notorious "big one" was still far from our minds. After all, we were physically OK.
We called our families in Utah and other parts of California to tell them that while we felt it, and thought it was pretty bad, we were fine. Life could get back to normal - or so we thought.
Without electricity to watch the news, we listened to the radio for information about the quake and the ballgame. We slowly pieced together what had happened.
Later that night, still without power, we went to bed completely clothed in case of an aftershock. We woke Wednesday to electricity and a shower. And for the first time, we saw the shocking pictures of the damage.
Like most people in the Bay area, neither of us went to work, and even though the earthquake updates seemed unchanged from the night before, we stayed glued to the TV all day.
For two days, we couldn't get enough information about the quake. We read the papers (which were small because there was no power downtown to produce a regular-size newspaper), listened to the radio and watched TV. We discovered our neighborhood, known as the Richmond District, came out relatively unscathed.
We were paralyzed by the events. The World Series was no longer important. Even our jobs became secondary.
We watched and are still watching as people just like us are forced to move into shelters until they find new housing. They wait with the hope that their homes are sturdy enough for them to enter and gather belongings.
We have cried with the discovery of more victims. And we hold out hope with many that the missing will miraculously survive.
Like most people in the Bay area, we have survived the 7.1 quake unharmed. But we will never be the same. Priorities in life can change completely in 15 seconds.
Life, family and caring for people you don't know - that's what really matters. If the quake of 1989 did anything, it is that its survivors will look at life differently. I know I will.