I was 4 and in the back seat of my mom’s silver 82 Corolla with the window rolled down. It was parked in front of our house on Newton St, near Mission and Geneva. My mom was standing in the street next to me talking with our 94-year-old neighbor Dolores.
Suddenly the car started lurching back and forth, and a brick chimney crumbled off a roof across the street down the block. My mom grabbed me out the window and put her arm around Dolores to steady her. We looked at our house and could see our golden retriever ‘Boogie’ climb under a desk next to a floor length window on the second floor. What a smartie pants! Suddenly everything stopped, and everything was quiet except for a chorus of car alarms.
We went into our house and all of my porcelain dolls had fallen and broken their faces. All of the framed pictures decorating the walls had fallen and cracked.
I remember sitting by the radio with my mom listening to reports of the destruction.My father, who owned a pet-supply store in the Sunset, had been at work and spent long hours cleaning up broken bags of dog food and bird seed.