picked up my book, got under something, and waited.
Later, it turned out that 2 very small tornados had landed, one a few blocks on my left, one a few blocks on my right,
it was all much more beautiful than frightening, but I don't have any of that "live in danger" desire for risk...a cousin
once told the joke of when we were travelling in France and I declined to run to catch a metro train pulling away
from us....putting on a drawl that was his best impression of my Arkansas accent, he quoted me as saying something like "I'm 28 years old now, and I didn't get to that age by taking risks like running after trains"....when the 1994 Northridge quake hit, I leaped up in the early dawn hours,
heading for the door jamb as if by reflex...it was a bit scary, but as I watched the walls of my apartment sway and buckle, I felt a sort of "what happens, happens", and worried much more about my dog (who was, naturally,
in a safe place as soon as I was) than about myself (fortunately, my wife was visiting a friend in Santa Cruz).
when the quake was over, we'd not been badly hit, but I remember walking Westwood Boulevard, looking at smashed store windows, buying a Gata cake from the little middle eastern market that was virtually the only thing open...
life is such a gift and stark events help me remember...
thunderstorms swirl me in a beauty I don't understand but treasure.
