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Surf the Earth, Revisited

It was one of those hot autumn days that made me think summer was going to last forever. I was working at a new job in downtown Santa Cruz on the third story of a reinforced brick building across from the bus station on Pacific Avenue. I went out to lunch that day and I was struck by the warm air and friendly faces on the street. I ran into some friends, and I looked for used records at Logo’s. I had a great time. I came back to work in a wonderful mood. I turned to my co-worker, a lovely blond with an awesome smile, and said, “I love working downtown. I used to work in Scotts Valley, and it was so boring. Here I walk out the door, and it’s like a carnival out there. Only thing is, it’s the worst place to be in an earthquake.”

I had no idea what was going to happen at 5:04 PM that day. Or maybe I did. I had read somewhere that downtown was built on the dry sandy bottom of the riverbed. Not a stable place to be, especially with tall buildings from an earlier time.

When the “Big One” hit, I was calm at first, I had seen many typical quakes before. When it kept getting bigger, and people started screaming, I said to myself, “I’d better get under the desk.” Pieces of the ceiling were falling down, computers were flying sideways, and filing cabinets looked ready to explode. It felt like King Kong had picked up the building and was shaking it like a rattle. Maybe he was looking for my blond co-worker! Thankfully, we all made it downstairs, and amazingly, none of us were hurt. We witnessed the damage up Pacific Avenue; it was all was dust and debris. I knew immediately that lives were lost, and that we had just experienced something that we hoped we would never see.

Buildings that seemed so solid just crumbled; the clouds of dust were enormous. It was hard to comprehend. There was one old building that lost its whole outside wall, and you could see into it like a doll house, with furniture hanging off the edges. We all stood there in shock, trying to absorb what had just happened. The aftershocks caused the asphalt to ripple in waves, and people ran in circles trying to get away, but there was nowhere to go. I noticed my knees felt weak, and I realized why people fall to their knees to pray. It must be a primitive human response to chaos and fear, and the need to believe in a higher power.

We heard the rumors that the Bay Bridge had collapsed, and I wondered what San Francisco must look like. As it started to get dark, my instinct was to get home. It took me hours to get to Soquel. On the way I thought about how my plans that night and the next few days were relatively meaningless in the face of life and death. None of that mattered. I was lucky to be alive.

What a feeling it was, to be that close to death and destruction, and to be able to walk away and live another day. Like most people, I normally take life for granted, I act as if I have all the time in the world to do everything I want to do. Rarely do I truly realize how fragile and fleeting life can be, and really feel what a gift each moment is. I thought about loved ones, I reached out to them in my heart. Outwardly I felt calm and rational, and I knew I could handle my “survival”. Another part of me, deep inside, could feel the frightened child who just wanted comfort and safety. All these thoughts and emotions washed through my veins.

Thankfully, my home survived. I got out the tent anyway. Fortunately, I had canned goods, water, and a flashlight, but no electricity or phone. Somehow, I got a hold of my friends, and it seemed everyone was okay. The next three days were very strange, like living in a war zone; the heat, the helicopters, the smoke, and the eerie quiet. Everything just stopped, nobody went to work, nothing was open. People pulled together with a shared sense of “thank God we are alive” and “can you believe what just happened?” Buildings and cars can be replaced, but precious life cannot.

If we knew another big earthquake was coming next month, we could all go out and buy supplies, food, water and reinforce our homes for safety. But we can’t predict earthquakes; that is partly why they are so frightening. Imagine having no electricity, no cell phone, no computer, no ipod, no xbox, no internet. How will you communicate with loved ones and people you care about? Without electricity, how will you get money from the ATM or heat water or food? Where will the water and food come from? When night falls, how will you see? How will you keep warm? How will you have access to the rest of the world to know what is going on? These are things we don’t think about until we don’t have them.

So, if we know the inevitable is coming, why don’t we prepare now?
We are so much more dependent on all things electronic than we were even twenty years ago. We take it for granted that we can just go out to the store for food at any time, or grab take-out on the way home from work. Do some research, have a basic plan. Put together an earthquake preparedness kit – NOW. Earthquakes don’t wait until you are ready for them. They just come and make our world crumble around us, literally. And, don’t think you will be able to call 911 to get help or be saved. In a crisis situation such as a major earthquake, those lines will be inundated, or, more than likely, totally inaccessible. Just like the people who lived through Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, we will be mostly on our own. We all need to be prepared and ready. That is my message to the future.

Two weeks after the quake, the lyrics to a song came to me. I was in a band called the Mooncussers at the time. We were an underground band hiding out in the Santa Cruz mountains. I called my buddy Kirk Ridd, and he liked the song idea. We never played surf music before, but we immersed ourselves in the style. We wrote and recorded the song in four long days and nights. We released a single on vinyl that sold in some of the local record stores. We got some airplay and press, but I don’t think many people heard the song.

There have been times in my life when music, particularly rock-n-roll, has been the only thing that makes sense to me. In my soul, it captures the essence of what it means to be alive. The pounding drums, the roaring riffs, the wailing vocals. When I hear Kirk’s riff today, it captures the feel of the rolling earth, just as the surf guitar sound of the 60’s portrayed the excitement of riding the waves. “Surf the earth, ride a wave of dirt”, where the first lyrics that came to me. This song was meant to be a tribute to the survival of Surf City, a place we all love and treasure. May this town live forever, and “Surf the Earth,” next time the “Big One” hits.