Shortly after moving into our current house in 1989 I was shaken out of a deep sleep. Earthquake! And a big one!

I was disoriented from being jerked awake in the dark in a home I hadn’t been in for very long. If you’ve ever been sleeping in dark hotel room at 3am and were abruptly awakened by a fire alarm, you know how disorienting that can be.

I quickly glanced over to make sure my beloved wife was ok and up and moving, then began to hurry toward the bedroom of our two young boys.

Even before I reached the hallway something seemed terribly wrong. All hell seemed to break loose at once. Everything began shaking even more violently and there was a loud banging and rattling that I didn’t recall hearing from prior earthquakes.

My adrenaline and fear soared when I looked down the hall into our boys’ room and saw orange flickering. A terrifying thought came to me: FIRE! Oh my God, the boys!

I yelled to Beloved, and as I raced down the hall I kept bouncing into the walls as both they and I were swaying in the dark. I don’t recall ever feeling that much panic.

A huge wave of relief swept over me as I rushed into their room as I realized that it wasn’t a fire, but only their orange night light that was flickering in the dark due to the earthquake.

I ran to their beds. Our youngest son was sitting up in his bed afraid—and probably made more so by my obvious alarm. I grabbed and hugged him while looking for our older boy.

To my shock and amazement he was still sleeping soundly! Not even my yelling, the extra-loud rattling, or the quake itself woke him. (Until recently when he and his wife had their first child he could blissfully sleep through the ringing of two loud alarm clocks going off simultaneously for so long that someone else in the house had to come in and shut them off. Now, with an infant of his own to protect and care for, even small noises wake him. Welcome to fatherhood!)

The extra-noisy rattling I’d heard turned out to only be a large brass ornamental spittoon with a wood and metal baton-like thing banging around inside as it was jolted around by the quake.

Soon afterward, the quake ended. Our oldest son had slept right through it. Beloved was able to go back to sleep. Younger Son and I weren’t so lucky. Our adrenaline was still pumping way too much to even consider trying to sleep.

So, we watched a funny slapstick comedy called The Great Race on TV. As we sat together I hugged him closely and reveled in the feelings of relief and gratitude that my precious family was safe. Younger Son and I spent the whole rest of the night together, laughing and enjoying the movie and each other’s company.

He is now a married man, a Physicist, and a Captain in the US Air Force. To this day, any time that night is mentioned brings knowing smiles to our faces.