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June 18, 2002

I'm doing this when I could be doing something else. This is better.

Writers and authors and journalists and storytellers.

A journalist owes a responsibility to the truth. A storyteller owes a responsibility to the story. More about this another day.

News stuff and stuff.

Shortly after 12:30 this afternoon we had an earthquake. The quake was centered approximately ten miles northwest of Evansville, Indiana. It had a local magnitude (MI) of 5.0. This particular quake wasn't on the famous New Madrid fault. It was on the Wabash fault. If you felt the earthquake, you can report it to the U.S. Geological Survey. I didn't feel this one. At the time, I was in the car, which I suppose absorbs the shock.

I have felt several earthquakes, though.

One such earthquake was when I was about 11 years old. I don't know the exact location or magnitude, but I do remember the day. It was a Saturday morning. My mom and cousin had taken my grandma to a funeral in Peoria. My dad was out somewhere in his pick-up truck. My brother was in the living room watching television -- cartoons, probably. And I was in my parents' bedroom, snooping. As usual, I didn't find anything. My mom had a braided rug in there and I had my hand on the closet door handle, closing it, at the moment the earthquake first struck. When the closet door started shaking, at first I thought the bottom of the closet door was stuck on the braided rug. But then I got the door closed. I soon realized everything was shaking, including me. Holding on to furniture and walls, I started to make my way to the living room. The whole house was shaking. I yelled out to my brother, "what are you doing." He replied, "nothing. I'm just sitting here." When I finally got to the living, which was only about 15 steps from where I was when the earthquake started, the shaking had stopped. My brother immediately assessed the situation as an earthquake. When my dad got home, we asked him if he felt it. He didn't. Probably because he was in his pick-up truck. Later we learned that my mom, cousin, and grandma had felt in Peoria. My mom said that the minister was in the middle of his sermon when the earthquake struck. My grandpa was home alone and he felt it. They had a little potted palm tree in front of the living room window. He said when the earthquake struck, he noticed that the palm was doing the hula.

An 18 year old man turned himself in today for Ray's murder.

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L.M. Carnes 2002.

All content herein owned by L.M. Carnes unless otherwise noted.