Janie Evanson Henderson's story

I remember that our family of four was spared by the Grace of God.

I remember the community spirit of caring for one another, the sense that we were all in this together.

I remember the "have not" and "have" lists on the wall at church. I remember the "have not" list shrinking each week.

I remember being provided shelter and hospitality at Mike Hunt's home in East Anchorage along with several other families whose homes had been destroyed.

I remember these things and I hope that we can be kind and caring of one another like that at all times and in all ways.

This what happened to us:

We rode our house down towards the Inlet as it disintegrated around us...

...I was at home with my parents and baby brother, watching Romper Room. We lived on Chilligan Drive in Turnagain.

When the quake began, my dad pointed to the moving chandelier over the table and said "Look, Janie Lou, it's an earthquake." It was and it just kept shaking!

My dad picked me up, called to my mom to bring my brother and we went to the hallway...the walls began to close in on us...my dad said "this isn't safe!" He then took us to the kitchen. We could see our backyard with the swing set and dog kennels out the kitchen window — the swing set was swinging side-to-side, not back and forth — and the treetops seemed to be whipping the ground on either side of their trunks.

The whole house tipped towards the backyard and the refrigerator came out of its spot. The house tipped back, the fridge went back where it belonged. The house tipped again and the fridge door opened and oranges came tumbling out.

Dad said we've got to get out of here and took us into the living room...the front window — the one we could see our neighbors' homes and the Chugach Mountains from — all we could see was darkness...dirt, sand and clay was there instead.

...the floor joists and hardwood floor broke open and our wall-to-wall carpeting ripped like it was tissue paper; the silty sand came boiling up into the house...my dad thanked God that we were all together and knew where one another was...then the roof torqued and we could see the sky! My dad said: "That's our way out!" But mom's foot was trapped in the floor joists...my dad told her "you're coming with me, foot or no foot" and yanked her hard, lifted her up and pushed her through the hole in the ceiling. He then handed me to my mom, and then my little brother. Pretty soon all four of us were sitting on the roof of what was left of our home.

Looking towards what had been our front yard, we could see a cliff and the utility pipes and cables sticking out at the top of the cliff with the cement or asphalt of the road surfacing jutting out as well.

Our neighbors from across the street appeared at the top of the cliff and somehow they got us up onto our street.

Afterwards, all of us were looking at what was left of our neighborhood--trying to account for all the neighbors. Unfortunately not everybody was spared on our street. Our neighbors, the Meads, lost their oldest and youngest sons — Perry and Merrell. There are no words for that grief...beyond sad.

I wasn't too big, but as I was in my daddy's arms, and looking out over what is now Earthquake Park, I got his attention and I told him "Daddy, mommy's house broken!" he looked at me and said, "Don't worry, I'll build mommy a new house." And he did.