Earthquakes are not a joking matter though, and it is sobering to think that damage of a magnitude 7.8 quake in Los Angeles or San Francisco will have effects that will put California into a world of hurt not all that different than what is happening now in Puerto Rico or the Virgin Islands. Although we have had 28 years since our vivid warning in the hills above Santa Cruz, we are still not as ready as we should be, and many of our fellow citizens are complacent about earthquake safety. The ongoing experiences of hurricanes and wildfires across our country remind us of the importance of being ready with water, food, first aid, communications plans, and escape routes. As has been sadly demonstrated, we cannot depend on the federal government to act on our behalf in an effective manner, given the depletion of their resources following other major disasters, and stupid politics currently infecting Washington D.C.
I have yet to be in the middle of a major tremor; I've been on the outskirts of several, including 1989, and the 1971 Sylmar earthquake in Southern California. I was on the scene of the 1992 Landers quake (magnitude 7.3) within a week to see the ripped up ground. My experiences were mostly of the learning kind, not that of personal loss. Still, there is something to be learned in every experience. What follows is an abridged version of my story from a post on the 20th anniversary.
In 1989 I was a brand-new instructor at Modesto Junior College, in my third semester. I taught classes in the old 1950's-era Science Building on our east campus, up on the second floor. I had all the modern teaching technology; there was a chalkboard, and two television monitors hung from the ceiling for showing those newfangled "videotape cassettes". The monitors also served as my decidedly low-tech seismometers. They shook noticeably during the smallest of earthquakes (most memorably during a class test on earthquakes; no one but me even noticed).
On October 17th at 5:04 PM, my physical geology laboratory had just finished and almost everyone had gone home to watch the World Series. A couple of students were helping me (it was Maureen and Sonny; funny how I remember the names of the first students I had better than the ones I had last semester). We were 100 kilometers from the epicenter, so when the seismic waves started to shake our building, the movement was a strong rolling motion instead of sharp vibrations. We looked at swaying TV monitors, and commented that it was an earthquake. It was a most scholarly discussion, actually. We realized the shaking was not stopping, and we thought we could sense the direction of the quake as well. We started to guess where it might be happening, but when the shaking reached the 40 second mark (the energy was spreading out, it lasted only 10 seconds or so near the epicenter), we realized it was a major event, and that fatalities were probably occurring (and unfortunately we were right). The deodar trees out the window were whipping back and forth as if they were in a high wind. The strangest part for me was the unconscious decision I was making as the shaking progressed. Despite having a quiet scholarly discussion, my body was moving from the front of the podium to the back, where there was a nice solid space to hide under. I would have dived under if the quake had lasted any longer.
In hindsight, I should have been a bit more aggressive about taking shelter under the desk. An analysis of our building a year or two later revealed an architectural weakness that suggested the building could collapse if the seismic waves hit it from a particular direction. A seismic retrofit a decade later included some massive shear walls in the lab I taught in.
Meanwhile, at the city library, my children were making me proud. At the time of the quake, there were huge sailing ship models on display, in some cases right on top of the book stacks. The stacks were not reinforced or braced, so there was a real potential for injuries if the quake was strong enough to knock those stacks over. I was told that most people were just standing there watching the bookstacks swaying, but my kids, my well-trained and intelligent kids were the only people in the room to take shelter under the sturdy study tables. Luckily, as I said before, we were on the fringes of the effects of the earthquake and no one was hurt.
The Loma Prieta earthquake, a magnitude 6.9 event at a depth of 11 miles, was a tragedy: 63 people died, and 3,700 were injured. The Bay Area was in chaos for days and months passed before life got back to normal. We were on the fringes, so instead of pain and suffering, we had a profound learning experience that was remembered by my students for the next decade and a half. But it has been 28 years now, and as I said, many of my students weren't born when the quake happened. Few of them have felt a quake at all. The large quakes like Loma Prieta and Northridge are ancient history, and there is less of that innate knowledge of what they should do when one hits. Few admit to having any kind of emergency kits at home, and they have no plan for what to do when the next big one hits.
Fault studies across California make it clear that more big tremors are coming, almost surely within the next decade or two. We educators must keep these past events alive in the minds of our students so they will be ready for these events when they come.
I'm sorry I can't provide a source for these photos. They are scans from a slide set that I purchased many years ago, soon after the quake occurred.
5 comments:
I can tell you as one of your former students who was alive and well right in the thick of it (both during and after,) it was not the "fun" little quakes of the bay area of my youth. Where I would run to jump in the pool out back to ride the waves of a 4.0 even fully dressed. This was a whole other monster that made many realize how poorly prepared we were.
I can tell you as one of your former students who was alive and well right in the thick of it (both during and after,) it was not the "fun" little quakes of the bay area of my youth. Where I would run to jump in the pool out back to ride the waves of a 4.0 even fully dressed. This was a whole other monster that made many realize how poorly prepared we were.
I was a high school student living in Gilroy at the time. The incredible power and sharpness of the first wave is something I will remember for the rest of my life. I watched as if in slow motion as 90% of the water in my 110-gallon aquarium levitated straight up, lurched three feet to the side, then splashed across the floor of my room. Getting outside to safety was a gauntlet of electrical arcs and broken glass.
Perhaps most surprisingly, I didn't lose a single fish. They had somehow all clustered along the very bottom before the main pulse hit, and avoided getting tossed to the floor below.
I was 15 miles further from home (Whittier) and the epicenter of the Northridge quake. It was strong. I can't fathom what a 7 or 8 would feel like nearby. Maybe I should watch live footage from Fukushima. I'm underprepared. I have some water, some canned foods, but Southern California is most likely woefully prepared for a disaster. It's a natural bottleneck from rescue forces due to the canyons and concrete freeway overpasses that could crumble (and did with the Northridge quake) and which we rely on for trucks and rail to supply us with daily necessities. Not to mention the water brought from the North and the East. I recently bought a shotgun to protect what little supplies I have, but I spent waking hours away from home and supplies. The workplace needs supplies. The vehicle needs supplies. The vehicle needs a backpack and hiking boots because many of the roads and freeways could be unusable. It's a scary thought I don't like to remind myself of often enough. The respectable Lucy Jones woke me up with a recent interview noting that the buildings that we use to function on a day to day basis may survive a major earthquake and spare lives, but won't be usable after the quake. All normal business functions could halt. For a mere 10 million or more.
"for a mere 10 million or more", being equal to about 3 or 4 Puerto Ricos.
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