Irwin Allen it Ain't

People are still talking about where they were during the Earthquake. I'm not talking about the 1906 Big One, or even the 1989 Pretty Damned Big One. (In case you're wondering, I was not born yet, and sitting on a couch in Illinois watching the World Series, respectively.) I'm referring to the moderate temblor we experienced just a few days ago. Yes, it was a shaker. Or so I'm told.

For a bunch of supposedly jaded Bay Areans, we sure love to talk about quakes, no matter how tiny. I was walking from the family room into the hallway with Tea for her bedtime. Rick was in the kitchen and he said: "Earthquake."

I said: "Huh?"

Rick was certain that we'd just had an earthquake. The windows rattled. The light fixtures swayed. By the time I looked, there was nothing. But he was certain. He checked the USGS Web site. Nothing reported yet. So I told him to go to the real source of all information.

"Try The Well," I said.

He checked into the San Francisco Earthquake topic on The Well and, before the USGS had a chance to check their seismographs, there were already 20 posts about the quake. Felt it in Bernal Heights! Didn't feel it in the East Bay! I didn't feel it, but I'm on vacation in Europe (thanks for sharing.) People were beginning to go through the stages of Earthquake Processing on The Well. Which are:

1. Report whether you did/didn't feel the quake, even if you don't live in the area. No matter how inane or uninteresting your observations. Please share.

2. Bring up your Bay Area Cred with regards to Earthquakery. I was born here! My grandparents were born here! And the old standby, I was here for Loma Prieta! I was standing on the San Andreas Fault! I am OLD SCHOOL.

3. Segue into how you scoff at people who freak and jump into doorways for anything less than a 6.0 shaker. Ha ha, you cowardly rubes! Look how casual I am.

Now, I have missed pretty much every quake we've had here for the past two years. And by "missed," I mean slept through, mistook for a truck driving by, or otherwise didn't catch because I was too busy gazing at my own thumb or something. But each time I hear the newscasters catching up or see that red square on the USGS map, I bow down in deference to the mighty earth, knowing that, while this time we were safe, it's just a difference of a few Richter points and 30 seconds between standing on solid ground and finding ourselves under the weight of our house and worldly possessions. I cross my fingers and thank some higher power that I still have a doorway to stand under and that my plaster ceiling is intact. May it continue to be so indefinitely.

By the way--4.4, centered near Glen Ellen in Sonoma County. And we're fine, mom.