Minnesota Makes Me Remember Loma Prieta

Everyone has two earthquake memories: where you were, not necessarily when the quake struck but when you figured out how much damage the quake had done; the multipart memory, the process of confirming the continued existence of those you loved who could have been on the Bay Bridge, on the Cypress, in the Marina or anywhere under a brick wall that decided to crumble.

I remember standing on Broadway in North Oakland staring toward downtown where my wife worked on the top floor of a rickety flatiron, walking back and forth, not really letting myself think. I remember when the bus stopped and my wife got off.

Sometimes it's a pain not believing in God. I am of a generous and also a practical disposition. It's nice when there's someone to thank. Maybe you'll get even better service next time.