Literal translation: “Northeast region Pacific Ocean offshore earthquake”
In response to prompts from Featured Grownups, I am sharing my thoughts about the recent earthquake and tsunami in Japan. I have been given the following helpful questions to get me started:
The immediate effect on me when I heard the first news bulletin about it: just the quake, a magnitude of 8-something that was later upgraded, and, “possible tsunami,” was like hearing the other shoe drop. I’d been waiting for it. I woke that morning feeling that something big was going on somewhere, and turned on the radio to find out where and what.
My old friend and longtime client, Kozue, was near enough to feel it. She contacted me the same day, on an entirely different matter, but I am thinking that she knew I would be wondering about her welfare and wrote to let me know that she was all right. She said that her home was safe, but that the shaking had been, “horrible.” I have other old friends in Japan, about whom I wonder, but I have no way currently to contact them. I am still working on that.
I live a relatively reclusive life here, with little direct experience of what’s going on in my Alaskan Railbelt neighborhood or in either of the little towns that bracket (loosely — I’m midway between two towns fifty miles apart) this sparse settlement. I can only assume that my neighbors’ reactions are similar to those I am seeing in my online community and hearing on public radio.
Many people are reveling in the drama and novelty. Some of them and many others are having Chicken Little reactions, fearful verging on panic. A large segment of the population is rallying to send aid and relief. Some of them and many others are calling for decommissioning of nuclear reactors and an end to constructing new ones.
Another segment of the population sees no personal significance for them in what occurs at such a distance, and won’t have a reaction until the impact begins to reach them.
The “larger global community” is, at bottom, a collection of individuals. Those who respond to this crisis with love and hope will find spiritual growth through it. Those who respond with fear and despair will not.
The world economy is already feeling the impact as Japan’s buying power diminished and they began sucking in massive amounts of disaster assistance. We are losing the ability to bounce back from such things as one disaster follows another.
The political situation hasn’t shaken out yet (no pun intended), and the ones who will make the decisions that will determine how it shakes down (now I know I’m punning) have other things on their minds. There’s some Chicken Littling going on now in seats of power, too.
Geophysically, enough stress was relieved locally that they have little cause for concern over more than aftershocks, but after such a shock even a small shake can cause plenty of concern. PTSD is a reality for residents of Nippon and many living in Pacific coastal areas where tsunamis washed ashore.
The plates are still moving. If we are lucky, these events will halt the defunding of tsunami warning systems and prompt the establishment of more and better ones. To whatever extent that awareness of risk will increase preparedness, we may be able to minimize losses from future events.
In a very real sense, that genie is out of the bottle. Early on, I heard speculation that Fukushima Dai Ichi would end up encased in concrete as Chernobyl did. What I have not heard is speculation about what a massive quake can do to a concrete box.
Radioactive materials used to be dispersed relatively harmlessly throughout the earth’s crust. Exceptions include places such as the three counties of Pennsylvania’s Reading Prong, where radon gas seeps into basements and must be vented.
Mankind has sought out, mined, and concentrated the stuff into dangerous masses. We are living with the consequences, as must our descendants. We shall evolve to deal with it, or go extinct.
I chose to live in one of the most seismically active areas on the planet, because the population is sparse here and the air and water are relatively clean. I bought property far from cities and coastlines, at an elevation over 300 feet above sea level. If a tsunami is bigger than that, I’ll just kiss my arse goodbye.
There are no gas or water pipes to burst and cause problems. A quake in winter could turn our woodstove into a fire hazard, and we’d have to deal with that. I’m accustomed to living rough, and I share my home with my son Doug, who has, ever since he was a small boy, shown a remarkable talent for quick thinking and crisis response. We know the risks, and our resources.
Worst case scenario: a quake levels our mobile home and opens up some of these faults we know are here because we can see their traces on the ground surface after small quakes. If one or both of us is critically injured, that’s a problem, but we’ve got adequate first aid supplies and skills to deal with minor injuries.
Not being able to get out to a public shelter is not a problem. They’d be full of germs and bad vibes, and leaving home would leave our place and our stuff easy prey for looters. If the trailer was uninhabitable, and the storage cabin still stood, we’d be able to shelter in there. Otherwise, we’d rig tarps elsewhere on our land, probably in or by the woodpile — right now, it’s a cozy cave in there after a winter of mining firewood from it.
We always have firewood for heat. I don’t let the woodpile dwindle to nothing, and there are fallen trees all around to be cut up if needed. Our emergency kits (plural, stashed in various places, “just in case”) include waterproof matches, particle masks (dust, mold, volcanic ash), socks and gloves for both of us, and other useful items. Food and water stockpiles are kept up routinely.
We’d cope… or not. We’d have a better chance than most others I know.
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