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New Year's Day I slept a lot (no surprise there) and never got around to watching any videos of the Rose Parade. IN fact I didn't get around to much other than videos of the big waves that have been hitting California beaches. Some have been quite spectacular, and one showed people running for their lives from a rogue wave that hit Pierpont Landing near Ventura. That one was especially interesting to me as Pierpont Landing is a name from my family legends.
My mother was twelve years old and living in Ventura when the St. Francis Dam collapsed in March, 1928, precipitating Southern California's deadliest disaster up to that time. Several towns in the Santa Clarita Valley were destroyed or heavily damaged, and there were hundreds of deaths. My grandfather and my mom's oldest brother were among the Venturans drafted to allay the public health hazard by collecting bodies from the two mile stretch of beach below Pierpont Landing where the flood had debouched, and from the devastated landscape up stream and fromthe beaches farther south, where many cadavers had washed up after being carried there by the currents.
The rogue wave incident at Pierpont Landing was a small reminder of the flood stories I'd heard so many times growing up. So I started the new year with images of a catastrophe that took place nearly a century ago, rather than with the usual assortment of marching bands, horseback riders, and oversized vehicles bedecked with flowers. I hope it was not an omen for the year, but I suspect that it was. The fact that I've been feeling fairly crappy for several weeks has probably primed me for pessimism. And I used to enjoy a good disaster so much! Aging really messes with you.
Hey, surf's up!
My mother was twelve years old and living in Ventura when the St. Francis Dam collapsed in March, 1928, precipitating Southern California's deadliest disaster up to that time. Several towns in the Santa Clarita Valley were destroyed or heavily damaged, and there were hundreds of deaths. My grandfather and my mom's oldest brother were among the Venturans drafted to allay the public health hazard by collecting bodies from the two mile stretch of beach below Pierpont Landing where the flood had debouched, and from the devastated landscape up stream and fromthe beaches farther south, where many cadavers had washed up after being carried there by the currents.
The rogue wave incident at Pierpont Landing was a small reminder of the flood stories I'd heard so many times growing up. So I started the new year with images of a catastrophe that took place nearly a century ago, rather than with the usual assortment of marching bands, horseback riders, and oversized vehicles bedecked with flowers. I hope it was not an omen for the year, but I suspect that it was. The fact that I've been feeling fairly crappy for several weeks has probably primed me for pessimism. And I used to enjoy a good disaster so much! Aging really messes with you.
Hey, surf's up!
