On Friday November 30, 2018 at 8:29 am, more than half of the population of the state of Alaska experienced a large-scale event. Another third of the population felt the tremor. The 7.0 magnitude earthquake shook those of us living in and around Anchor-town to our very core. Some of us had only ourselves to take care of while others had classrooms full of young children. Some of us wore brave faces, while others broke down in tears.
I was the one under my desk holding onto one of the desk legs chanting ‘please stop, please stop’. The energy behind this earthquake rolled my insides and seemed to quiver the ends of my nerves almost to the breaking point. The quake lasted about a minute and a half as the shock-wave radiated out from the epicenter, and what can seem a short time on the clock felt like an eternity from under my desk.
At 8:35 am, the aftershocks started with a 5.7 magnitude quake, and for the next seven days we paused, waited, and thanked the sweet baby Jesus each time they subsided.
While I was under my desk at work weeping with fear, Josh was at home. When the shaking started, he quickly realized this was not going to be the average quake that rolls through and he thought, “if this gets any worse, I should get out of my PJs and get dressed”. He headed towards the dresser and started to put on some deodorant, quickly abandoning that project he headed towards the front door. By the time he reached the front door and had one shoe on, there was just enough time to crouch in the corner, cover his head and pray for the best outcome. Our neighborhood lost power and the house went dark. In the darkness it sounded like a gravel separator was plowing under our building, and the sound of crashing items resonated from each room in a twisted musical chorus of breaking glass.
All of us who experienced this earthquake now have a story to tell of the day Anchor-town made history yet again. Alaska is no stranger to earthquakes and the Good Friday earthquake of 1964 proved instrumental in our quick recovery this time. In the past 54 years construction methods, building codes, and zoning are taken seriously, and the damage from this recent quake to roads and buildings have been quickly overcome. There are a few public buildings and private homes that are now deemed unfit for service but these buildings and homes did not collapse. There was no loss of life.
Our condo home in Anchor-town stood up to the test and passed. Our building does not show any signs of stress fractures or cracks. During the earthquake, many items dislodged themselves from their resting place, a few pantry items even jumped off the shelves and landed on the floor from behind closed cupboard doors. One of our bedside lamps knocked over, broke in two, and the glass shade shattered. Yet other items did not even seem to shift, they were in the same place we left them the night before, unbroken and unharmed. The randomness that affected each item in our house during this event is mind-boggling, the key to which is surely held in the study of harmonic resonance and the frequency of sound waves, and at this point a mystery that will never truly be solved.
As each of these items took on a life of their own during the earthquake, one-minute shaking, and the next standing still, there seems to be a parallel to our emotions, one minute all is well and the next we tremble from the inside out. Our physical recovery from this event was quick compared to other types of natural disasters; wildfires, tornadoes, and hurricanes can have longer lasting visual consequences. The emotional effects of having experienced a terrifying event however can have a farther-reaching impact.
Everyone who has lived through one of Mother Nature’s devastating events, I commend you. I admire your resilience. Resilience is a gift that is not freely given. It is not something that you can walk into a store and buy. You must earn it. You must work for it.
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