THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1997, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, January 18, 1997 TAG: 9701180084
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: Larry Maddry
LENGTH: 71 lines
I HAVE BEEN sitting here trying to make a list of things I would move out of the house in the event of flood, fire, earthquake, or other natural disaster if there were only a few minutes to act.
Let's see now. . . my wall-size photo of Michael Jordan, my wooden-shaft golf putter with nicks in the blade, the plant holder made from a section of a pier piling with a swordfish bill sticking through it, the swollen sock stuffed with coins I've been too lazy to sort, count and roll. . . my tasteful G. Gordon Liddy calendar with monthly photos of scantily clad women holding automatic weapons.
No, wait a minute! I've forgotten my dog, Mabel, the cocker spaniel. If there's a fire I certainly don't want her barbecued while I'm dragging out that large photo of Michael.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
I have been thinking about the problem of what to salvage in a hurry since reading a piece by Marsha Ginsburg of the San Francisco Examiner (distributed nationally by The New York Times Wire Service).
Ginsburg mentioned that the California State Automobile Association, a major provider of homeowner's insurance in that state, advised everyone to they should take stock of what they own and be prepared to grab what is important at a moment's notice.
A spokesman for the insurance company said folks with homeowner's insurance should think about sentiment rather than value.
``We replace (jewelry) as part of the property,'' a spokeswoman said. ``But if it's sentimental it's not really replaceable.''
Most people, it turns out, foolishly grab clothes and blankets when disaster strikes. Don't fall into that trap. Remember, it's sentiment that counts. So you should begin making your sentimental list now.
The article by Ginsburg is great - as far as it goes - but doesn't give minute-by-minute guidelines on what to do.
My advice for the first minute would be to follow my aunt Eunice's maxim:
When in trouble or in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout.
Like so much of Aunt Eunice said, it sounds idiotic, but is wise when reflected upon. Let's say a fire is raging through the kitchen, circle quickly through the rest of house grabbing anything of sentimental value while shouting to others of the imminent danger.
As a matter of fact it's a good idea to practice running in circles and screaming and shouting daily so you'll be ready when disaster strikes. (We do this in the newspaper's newsroom three or four times a day and - I am proud to say - have lost some news in the process but never a person in a fire, flood, or earthquake. (And that's what matters.)
Deciding what is sentimental - hence at the top of the list for removal when disaster strikes - isn't easy. And especially not in Hampton Roads where there are so many heirlooms. And so much flooding in low areas.
Many in this region have, for instance, handsome wooden beds - some with imported French canopy fabrics - which have been passed from generation to generation. And when a parent or grandparent has slept in a bed, one tends to become sentimental about it.
If you have one of those antique beds it could come in very handy during a flood, particularly if you have equipped it with a rudder suitable for such an emergency.
So, the antique bed should probably be No. 1 on your list, if you own one. The bed can be tossed across fissures in the Earth and walked over during earthquakes. Antique beds can also be used as a sleigh during mudslides, whisking you and other family members gathered atop it to safety.
On the other hand, you might want to place the antique bed in the No. 2 or 3 position on your list in the event your emergency is a fire. And even as low as 4 or 5 if the bed is in the attic. And possibly even lower if the bed itself is on fire.
If you have any further questions, why not send a letter or fax on a sentimental journey to the California State Automobile Association? ILLUSTRATION: Drawing by Janet Shaughnessy/The Virginian-Pilot