The Witness Begins

I remember when I was a kid, I would every now and then start a journal, or a diary. I liked the idea of writing down what was happening in my life. I knew other girls that were doing it, had read stories where the girl in the story kept a diary, etc. It just seemed like a good thing to do. It just so happened that one Christmas, when I was about 12 years old, I got a tiny diary for a gift from my piano teacher. So I had no excuse not to start it.

Well, I knew that I couldn't really write my deepest thought in it, because my nosey mother allowed no privacy in our house. So I had to stick with just the facts. so each day, I would write something like this:
Went to school. It was boring. Got picked on by the class bullies, and got teased by the snobby Italian girls. Went home and watched my brother and sister while my mom made us some TV dinners. Practiced piano for one hour. Got in trouble for sassing at Mom again. Stepped in a wet spot on the carpet, the dog forgot to ask to go out to potty again. Going to bed.

The next day, it was basically the same exact entry. On Saturdays, it went this way: Had my piano lesson. Had to play piano for company. Went swimming. Had pizza for dinner. Mom made brownies.

Sundays: Went to church with my brother and sister. We took a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken to visit my big brother in Honor camp. (Which happens to be a juvenile correctional facility high in the Cleveland National Forest.

After a few months of this drabble, I went to read the entries, and was so bored and disgusted with my boring life that I tossed the diary away for good. I knew my life was boring, but to actually see it in print was like forcing yourself to look in the mirror constantly to see how many zits you have. You would just rather not know.

that being said, I am pushing 50 now. There is so much going on these days, I could fill notebooks. Plus, I am not afraid to say what I am thinking, even if its a little rude or unpopular. I noticed the other day, in a conversation with my hubby, that I was having a hard time remembering dates of past events, or names of famous baseball players that I thought I'd never forget. I decided yesterday that I really need to start writing stuff down, if for no other reason but to refresh my memory in the future when I am totally blanking out on things.
So, I will try now, to start back up where I left off back in 1972. Only, I don't thing it will be so boring.

Yesterday was Easter Sunday, April 4 2010. It was a nice day. Calm, no rain, nothing exciting. Then, at 3:40, the house started moving, shaking, it felt like being on a boat. And it didn't stop for several seconds. I think maybe 40 seconds. The house started to making groany noises, and I heard a crash of things falling. Then car alarms started going off. I was eating a sandwich, and Jerome was eating soup. We just stopped, looking at everything swaying, the blinds, the ceiling fan, and just said, oh shit, when is this gonna stop? Then it did. We quickly went outside to calm down our newest neighbor, who just bought the house across the street from us. He was afraid his new investment was going to come down. We told him, nah, these old houses have been through 80 years of earthquakes. Whats one more?

But we were really like people whistling in the graveyard. All evening the aftershocks came, and we said, the big one is coming, but when?

The internet, and the evening news told the story: earthquake centered in Baja Ca, 7.2 on the richter scale. Thats even stronger than the one in Haiti that killed a quarter million people about 2 months ago. Calexico and Mexicali had the most damage to structures. Here in San Diego, just minor stuff that we have seen so far. I am afraid the water pipes, sewer system etc, which is crumbling in san Diego, will let us know in the coming weeks if the movement was too much for them to stand.