When people think California, they are interested in three things: Hollywood, the beach and earthquakes. The first two inspire glamour-envy and that last one makes everyone fear the shake zone. But I was in Tennessee during a tornado warning once and that one time was more than sufficient. The sky was a weird, ominous yellow and the air was filled with impending doom. I swear I could hear dramatic music the whole time. I’ll take earthquakes any day, thank you. And living smack-dab on top of the San Andreas Fault, one of the first things you learn as a Southern California kid is what to do during earthquakes. In fact, earthquake-preparedness--getting in doorways, under tables, away from windows--is so deeply ingrained in us that my brother John and I each caused an
embarrassing public scene when beepers we had on vibrate went off the first time. What do you expect? He and I rode out the 1971 quake together in the middle of our parents’ careening four-poster bed. He was also the first call I got years later when an early-morning trembler trapped the very pregnant me flailing around like a turtle on its back while my roommate yelled for me to get to a doorway. Yet, even with all that exposure, I still can’t imagine the experience of San Franciscans on the morning of April 18, 1906. In Earthquake, Milly Lee tells a survivor’s story through her grandmother’s eyes. Maybe that day a tornado wouldn’t have seemed so bad.http://www.amazon.com/Earthquake-Milly-Lee/dp/0374419469
http://www2.visalia.k12.ca.us/library/millylee/index.htm
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