Reflections on an Earthquake

My daughter posted some links on her blog about the Chilean earthquake. The first one I went to was the Washington Post's gallery of earthquake photos. Many of them are the usual: rubble, and people coping with their individual pieces of the event. A couple really struck me, however.

The first was of a tall apartment building completely fallen over on its side, broken in half but otherwise appearing intact. It told not only the story of the tremendous forces released in the quake, but the high level of construction of that building that it so well withstood them.

Another set of pictures hit closer to home: a bridge dropped with cars sitting on it. It took me back to August 1st, a couple years ago, the 35W bridge in Minneapolis. I'm one of the almosts. As in, I almost was on that bridge at the time.

I was, in fact, on that bridge earlier that day, and twice the day before. Not that I paid attention at the time, but it struck me later. I don't usually take that route when I can avoid it, since traffic around downtown Minneapolis is usually pretty congested. In fact, the evening of the bridge collapse, I had finished my day down in Burnsville, ready to head home, with two options for my route: 35E and 35W. If you don't know the area, I35 splits in Burnsville and reconnects just south of Forest Lake. Where I was, the two had just split and were about a quarter mile apart, equally easy to pick either one's northbound ramp, about equal distance to the reconnect. I picked 35E, deciding on the moment to head by my folk's apartment in Vadnais Heights and drop in for a short visit. Had I picked 35W, the timing would have been almost perfect for the collapse.

As it was, my daughter called me just before I hit Vadnais Heights demanding to know where I was and was I OK? This was the first I'd heard of the news, my radio enjoying one of its rare off moments. She filled me in and I assured her I was miles away. Moments after she hung up, my son Richard called. Same story. I waited a bit, thinking my youngest would call as well. I waited in vain. After arriving home that night, I teased him about not calling. His comment was that he was watching the TV coverage, and didn't see my vehicle, so assumed I was fine.

When they pulled the submerged cars from the river weeks later, I reminded him of his earlier assumption. He just gave me one of those looks that say, "Mom, you're OK, what's your deal?"

Radio and TV coverage was non-stop saturation for the next week after the bridge dropped, and it still comes up periodically for different reasons. Even our Governor was knocked temporarily off his "no taxes" pedestal during the immediate aftermath, although he quickly recanted. (Presidential ambitions have an awesome power!)

The bridge was just one lone event. Yet we were all heavily impacted. It's difficult to imagine the impact on a society of a so-much-larger event, like an earthquake, tsunami, systematic genocide, or whatever. Does one finally just go numb? Or is there something in the human mind that reduces any large horror to just our own little piece of it?