First, it wasn't foggy in Granada Hills where I lived. I remember two things while standing outside that morning: all the water in the gutters from swimming pools that sloshed over, and the smoke rising in the clear morning sky from the Thrifty's Drug Store that was on fire at the corner of Chatsworth and Zelzah(?).

Second, yes, Cathryn, it was, without a doubt, the scariest 58 or 59 seconds of my life. It seemed to go on forever.

In 1971, I was a young mother with two small children. I was up early that morning doing dishes that I hadn't gotten around to the night before. My husband was in the shower getting ready for work (bad place to be in an earthquake)and our sons were still asleep.

I was cleaning our old stove and thinking to myself, "I'm not rubbing it that hard, so why is it shaking?"

When I suddenly realized what was happening, I got in the doorway of the kitchen and dining room, glass breaking behind me as everything was thrown out of the cupboards. I never heard the glass breaking.

Outside the other kitchen door, which was open because it was warm, our 6 ft. block wall fell down. I never heard it fall.

To the left of me in the adjoining dining room, my sewing machine was on the dining room table as I was sewing a bridal gown and a maid of honor dress for my brother's wedding in eleven days. I never heard it crash to the floor, hitting the buffet on the way down. (BTW, the dresses got made in time, even though we had to evacuate due to the possibility of the Van Norman Dam collapsing, and the wedding went on as scheduled, with no aftershocks occurring during the wedding or reception -- and they are still happily married 35 years later.)

The one and only noise I remember was the roar of the freight train coming through my house.

Barbara