If it's not in appropriate to tell an odd little story about a Pacific tsunami, here's a true one. I lived through the 1964 Good Friday tsunami. I was in high school then, living on the missile base of Kwajalein, Marshall Islands. A bunch of us were at a party in the home of the commanding officer of the island, Capt. H.D. Allen. (That was shortly before the Army took over control of Kwaj from the Navy.) We were playing some games that had me really interested -- high school kissing games, I have to admit -- when suddenly Capt. Allen said all of us had to go home. We were to get to shelter. Those of us who lived in cinderblock houses could go there and I think the people who lived in trailer units were to go to some community shelter. He said a huge earthquake had hit Alaska and the tidal wave would be crossing the Pacific, and of course we were right in the path. At first I thought Capt. Allen was trying to break up our little kissin' games. But that was the end of the party and we all headed out. I was determined to see the todal wave and went down to the beach and waited. It was night, and I never was aware of any difference in the ocean's level. Later I heard that waves were a little higher on the beach, maybe a foot or so. The explanation was that our atol has sheer sides, rising from deep in the ocean. When the tsunami came through, there was no gradual, sloping bottom to cause it to build up. In situations where the bottom is gradual, the great energy of the tsunami causes a gigantic wave to form. But not for us. Meanwhile, I think the same wave caused destruction elsewhere, like in Japan. Just my little experience. -- Joe