20 Years Later

From SFGate"Can you believe it's been 20 years this weekend?" I asked my Mom this week.

"I know, I was thinking about that." She replied. "I was so afraid to come and get you."

"Me? I was at soccer practice. What could have happened to me at the Polo Fields?"

"I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to get to you. I got in the car, but I saw all the rubble and there was no power - I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find you."

"Well, I was with every girl I'd ever known my whole life, so I'm sure someone would have taken me home."

"When I got there, I offered to take some, remember? But the coach said there was no where to leave a note about where we'd gone..."

On October 17, 1989, I was twelve years old and in my eighth grade year. We were all excited about the Bay Bridge World Series, and wanted to get home to watch the game. That afternoon, a hot and still day with lots of sunshine and no breeze, I was soccer practice at the massive Polo Fields in Golden Gate Park. When the earthquake hit, our coach was explaining a drill. "Earthquake!" She said with a smile, soccer ball in hand. At the beginning it was a soft rumble, making us think it was a fun little event in our day. Then, everything went whammo. I remember looking at the ground and watching it roll in waves across the field. Although there was no wind, the trees alongside the field made a whooshing sound as they swung back and forth.

When my Mom picked me up, I still had no idea how big was. We listened to KCBS radio where the traffic reporter kept saying "...the whole Cypress structure has collapsed," over and over and over. That, and that the Bay Bridge had collapsed too. There were fires in the Marina and buildings had crumbled all over town. My Mom seemed edgy and weird. She had just been at the grocery store where everything had hit the floor and people were screaming in panic. She told me she'd left her cart in the store, so dinner was going to be iffy.

When we got home, everything was oddly normal. My Dad, an engineer, had made certain our house was bolted to its foundation when we'd moved in about six years before. Nothing had moved really. The only thing that broke was a Steuben vase that fell from our kitchen cupboard. Of course, we had no power, no TV, and had to struggle to round up the batteries for the little kitchen radio my Mom had.

Down the street, some neighbors had a different story. All of the kids ended up over at the Giannini's house that night. It was the biggest house on the street - a sprawling shingled Victorian complete with a turret, yard, and swimming pool in the back. There were five kids in that family, and as everyone came out to check on the local damage, we wound up at their house. Mrs. Giannini's car, a large Jeep Wagoneer, was completely crushed under a pile of bricks from the falling chimney next door. The bricks had somehow piled up underneath the car, so it was up on a little hill which was completely bizarre. Inside was worse. Every plaster wall was cracked and crumbling. Pieces of wall kept falling away, showing the lathes underneath - like an old haunted house. All of the big, curving contoured windows were cracked and broken. All the kids on the street stayed and cleaned up smashed plaster until it was completely dark out.

I don't remember what we ate that night, but I remember my Dad being worried about how food supplies were going to be getting into the city. There was talk of the National Guard coming in.

The next morning dawned hot and still, just like the day before. We had power again, so we finally saw some of the first images of the destruction. It was a news circus, and within a few days even Peter Jennings was broadcasting live somewhere nearby. We didn't have school that day, or for the rest of the week. We played in the backyard with our neighbors, goofing off, lying in the grass, and playing games. I remember a lot of family friends would pop in through the week to shower and have a hot meal. A lot of neighborhoods still didn't have water or power - we were one of the first. I also remember people calling to check in on us from all over the world - Texas, Germany, New York, Australia... People we only heard from in Christmas cards were suddenly on the phone.

BeforeAfterIt's hard to believe that it was only two or three years ago that the final remnants of the faulty freeways were taken down. Now, the city feels more open, more natural - like a neighborhood that people can stroll through rather than a big expressway. The city always seemed dark and a little claustrophobic, but now it breathes with open air. It's hard to imagine the old freeway covering up the beautiful Ferry Building on the waterfront - it's now the promenade it was always meant to be.

People who aren't from here worry about earthquakes. But is it worth it? Living here is definitely worth it, so why not roll with a few underground surprises? You never know when it will happen, how big it will be, or how well it will clean things out and make everything new again.