Sunday, November 6, 2011

What Earthquake?

So, apparently the large earthquake (well, in relative terms) that hit Oklahoma yesterday was felt in parts of North Texas (which is where I live). I didn't even know about it until I got onto FB around 11:30 p.m. CT and many of my local friends were talking about it.

Weird, I thought. Maybe it's because we were watching a TV show somewhat loudly, but even my cats didn't react (and I know how some pets can get). Or, maybe, it really wasn't that strong. But, I didn't notice it. Nor did Brian.

Which led me to tell him about a story of when I experienced an earthquake--a real one.

For those that don't know, I was born in Costa Rica. I lived there until I was about 8 1/2. Costa Rica is lush, tropical, and beautiful. It also has several volcanoes. Some active. So, earthquakes are pretty standard there. Sort of like the California of Central America, but, with volcanoes. (Which, btw, there are several state parks surrounding several of the volcanoes, and they are very neat to visit, but I digress....)

I was about 8, or so (I'm pretty sure this was shortly before we came back to live in the States), and it was Easter weekend. My parents were out of the country, so we were being cared for by one of the maids (oh, I know, this sounds pretentious, but, it's Central America, everyone has maids), and the maid, my younger brother and I were upstairs watching an evening movie on TV. The movie was about the crucifixion of Christ. (It was Easter weekend, people! And in Latin America, it has this weird life of its own. One day I will tell you about the weird processions down the street with a fake Christ in a glass casket. Oh, yeah.)

Anywho, I kid you not, it's the actual crucifixion scene, and the house starts shaking--badly. The lights go out, and since it's night, it's pretty much pitch black in the house. A window slams shut. (Oddly enough, it didn't break the glass.) I look out the window shortly before all the lights went out, and noticed a crack forming in the cinder block wall surrounding our house (instead of a fence; more sturdy, and most of the houses are made of cinder block as well). Our maid ushers us to the stairs to make our way down, and I get some dust in my eye. My older siblings are downstairs, and we all make it out the front door and to the street, where all our neighbors are gathering, and, I kid you not, the moon was blood red! Talk about spooky, scary stuff to an eight year old! Yeesh! (Later I learned that ash from a volcano can make it appear as if the moon is red, but tell that to a scared eight-year-old little girl that just got tossed about as she was watching the crucifixion of Christ.)

It didn't last long, and everyone was okay. We all dragged our mattresses downstairs into the living room and slept on the floor together, just in case. There were a few aftershocks, but nothing like the first one (I don't remember what it was on the Richter Scale).

And that's my odd, 8-year-old-tinged memory of one of the worst quakes I have endured. Which, seeing some that people have gone through recently, was really just a walk in the park.

3 comments:

Christine Rains November 6, 2011 at 7:38 PM  

There's the makings of a scary story right there! I think I might have been more than a little unnerved as an adult.

Manda November 7, 2011 at 9:11 AM  

But do the maids have maids?

Gabby November 7, 2011 at 9:35 AM  

Christine, maybe so!

And Manda, some do. *LOL* I know, sounds weird!

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