It was around 4:15 a.m. (I have observed that most earthquakes tend to strike early in the morning) and I of course slept right through it. With elevated trains rumbling by less than half a block from my apartment every few minutes, it would have taken a pretty strong quake to rouse me. But it got me to thinking, with some strange nostalgia, of “my” earthquakes past. When I first moved to Los Angeles, I was looking forward to my first earthquake. Being of a melodramatic nature, the idea of actually experiencing one like the one in my favorite movie, “San Francisco,” really excited me. Therefore, my first experience was somewhat less than I’d envisioned. I was sitting in my living room in Glendale with a friend, talking, when I noticed the swag lamp over his head begin swaying back and forth. I felt nothing at all. My friend, a longtime Californian, said casually: “Ah, an earthquake.” I subsequently learned that there are several types of earthquake.
