No, I'm not going religiony.
The recent huge earthquake in Japan reminded me of the Great Alaskan Earthquake on Good Friday in 1964. My dad and his entire squadron of P2V Neptunes and all the men who made them fly were stationed in Adak then. As soon as the quake hit (about the same magnitude as the Japan one), they took the planes and humans to higher ground.
Yep, a tsunami was on the way. We didn't call them tsunamis then (maybe you did). We just called them tidal waves, which sounds scary enough. I don't think that wave had anything to do with the tides, though.
My mom and my brother and I were at home on Whidbey Island. We were assured that everybody was safe. We heard that my dad's belongings would be shipped to us soon. (Why did he not need his belongings? I was a kid; I don't know. He came home soon after.)
When you're a kid, you're always looking for cool things, funny things.
This was cool. And funny.
Dad's Navy trunk arrived. We jimmied open the lock, and the inside was filled with wet clothing. Khakis, skivvies, socks. Soaked in salt water. Ocean water. The tsunami had delivered this dose of saline through the keyhole!
Maybe that wasn't funny.
But you know what was funny? There were tiny dead crabs and shreds of seaweed in there, too.