I sit here in the comfort of my home as the rain pours outside and I am grateful for the final coolness of the weather, the food in the fridge, and the warm bed at night.
Yet I frequently have pangs of guilt when I hear or see mention of the continuing disaster down South and realize all I can do is send money and hope it goes to help the hurricane victims in some tiny way.
I am 82 years old but do not feel it, and have spent the majority of my life in Tacoma where I was born. I still read and listen to these tragedies and those of the heavy winter snows on the East Coast, and wonder when we will get the next earthquake.
I still remember the 1949 quake when five of my friends and I sat in the Mason Junior High lunchroom, until a piece of plaster fell and we exited the building fast. That was the same time that a young boy was killed exiting Lowell Elementary School, and the building was condemned.
Someday, our turn will come again for another natural disaster. I don’t think we are all ready.
Chellis Swenson Jensen, Tacoma