Earthquakes and Helicopters and Why I Would Be a Terrible News Reporter

I think it was yesterday...definitely after the earthquake. Which already means I have to back up.

I drive my sister nuts with how I talk because I do this all the time. I start a story and then back up and talk about what happened before.

But, yes, I looked it up and the earthquake was on Easter. It is the first earthquake I've ever felt in California. Despite this state's fame for them. I was too far away for it to be more than a noticeable rumble. When I described this to my mother, she asked if I'd actually heard a rumble. To be honest, I can't recall, but it definitely felt like what a rumble sounds like. Very unlike an earthquake I recall in Taiwan where the room physically shifted to the right and then back again. My mother actually called right afterward because it didn't even occur to me it would be on the news and that I would have to assure people I was all right. At the time I was playing a computer game with my brothers. I didn't even properly process what was going on until my step-mother said it was an earthquake. At which point I went and stood under a door-frame because I was always told that's what you should do. No one followed my example. I probably should have been more insistent but the earthquake stopped soon afterward.

Then, I think it was yesterday but this is probably why I should blog every day even on vacation--a helicopter flew over the house several times announcing something I couldn't quite understand. It occurs to me now that they could have been screaming evacuation orders and I probably would have still ignored them unless someone else said something to me. I really need to work on paying more attention. In my defense, my family's house is near a military base, so my brain assumed it was some kind of military drill. My brother finally noted that they were announcing the name of a missing boy that lived on this street.

Seriously? And they employed a helicopter. At first I was convinced my brother was pulling my leg. But listening closer, I discerned bits and pieces of a repeated name and physical description of a missing person. I still couldn't hear some bits properly, but my step-mother soon confirmed the story.

Hours later they said the boy was found. My brother said he was at a friend's house. I'm still amazed they called out a helicopter to search for a boy who wasn't thought to be in a silver weather balloon.

But all this adds up to why I should never be a news reporter because even when stuff like this happens, I don't think to write about it until after I've already forgotten when exactly it did happen.