Taking A Stand: Epicenter not a basketball arena
Yeah, I slept through the earthquake Tuesday morning so you can officially say “Duane can sleep through an earthquake.”
Not unusual though. I’ve slept through the worst of storms and, years ago, I slept through a car slamming into a tree in my front yard. It’s odd, given my ability to sleep through anything, that a dripping faucet will keep my eyes wide open as I can hear every drop of water hitting the bottom of the sink.
I didn’t actually know about the earthquake until I got to the paper Tuesday morning. A 4.9 tremor is a pretty good shake, as those of you who were awake know. Of course, it’s always interesting to hear the descriptions of such events from those who experienced them.
For co-worker Will Stewart, the quake was equated to one of those vibrating beds you find in some motels. Other people thought it was a storm while still others feared it was a terrorist attack. Why can’t they have these things during regular daylight hours so those of us who sleep soundly can experience them?
Our editor and renowned Best of the Best Columnist James Clark also slept through the natural disaster Tuesday morning. He was quick to want a story on the whole ordeal, but wasn’t quite clear on the terminology associated with an earthquake. Since I did some stories on the New Madrid fault about 10 years ago when we were abuzz about the big one coming from out there, I’m able to talk the seismologist lingo.
“The epicenter was located near Ft. Myers, Alabama,” I told James when he asked where the quake occurred.
His immediate comment was, “Did the epicenter get destroyed?” His comment took me back for a minute until I realized he believed the epicenter was some building which housed a sports complex kind of like the Fleet Center.
Then talk here turned to what to do in the case of an earthquake. We all know to head to a secure room in the lowest part of a building in case of a tornado, but earthquakes aren’t familiar things here. Some folks thought our office was the best place to ride out a quake but I pointed out the best place is an open area where nothing can fall on your noggin.
“So we shouldn’t stop, drop and roll,” James questioned, prompting my response, “Yeah, you can if you want to but I’m running for the parking lot so I can dig your rolling remains out of the debris later.”
Then there’s the age-old wives tale that the major fear of an earthquake is that you’ll be sucked under when the ground splits open.
My response is that if you’re unlucky enough to fall through a hole in the ground split open by a quake, then it’s your time to go. I mean, in a case like that, you’re being targeted for elimination and should quickly consider what really bad sin you committed to have the bowels of the Earth open up and suck you down. I mean, that’s Irwin Allen stuff there. All you need now is William Holden.
Of course, not to worry you or anything, but McMinnville is pretty much built over sink holes and caves. Should the “big one” ever hit, there’s always a chance much of McMinnville would get significantly closer to sea level in a few seconds.
So, here’s your disaster review: Tornado – get to the lowest level, away from windows and cover yourself. Earthquake – get in a sturdy doorway or better yet, outside away from where you can get hit by falling debris. Fire – stop, drop and roll.
And what ever you do, don’t take refuge in the Epicenter in the case of a quake. It may be a good place to watch ball games, but it’s not a good place to hide in the case of an earthquake.
(Duane Sherrill is a reporter for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at [email protected].)