May 18, 1980 – 4:00pm PST
Eight months pregnant with my second child, I woke groggy and disoriented from a much-needed nap. The clock said 4:00 and I wondered if I had slept through the afternoon into the night. A strange type of darkness was upon my part of the world.
I stumbled outside. The overhead skies were hazy and from the west a solid line of pitch black preceeded a darkness I had never before seen. Mount St. Helens had blown several hours earlier. Little did I realize the effect the event, which had happened 400 miles west, would have on our lives.
I woke my seventeen month-old son for a quick trip to the market. Luckily for me it was my day to have the car I shared, as the market was eight blocks away. I watched the line of darkness march east at a rapid pace. There was near panic at the store. People were grabbing canned goods off the shelves, and bypassing fresh produce for staples that could be stored. Few were prepared ahead of time for what would come in the subsequent days.
I made it back home just as the ash began to fall. The darkness was complete, darker even than the night sky during a storm. I switched on the radio to hear the local news. Broadcasters were telling people to get home and stay in their homes, then seal all windows and doors. No one knew what effect the ash would have. The ash fell for hours, covering everything like a blanket of heavy snow. By the time it was done falling, there was four to five inches of sooty ash covering everything in Spokane.
It was odd to see snowplows on the streets in May. Roofs collapsed from the weight of the ash. Some ungaraged cars would not start, carbuertors choked. Emergency personnel were issued paper masks and goggles. Residents were warned to stay inside, and not to run heating or cooling units which would bring outside air into the home. Everything outside was grey and surreal, like we imagined the landscape of the moon might look.
Spring rainfall in the subsequent days turned the ash into a concrete like substance. Gardens and lawns choked and died that summer. The clean up took months.
I watch the news today about Mount St. Helens, remembering May 18, 1980 like it was yesterday. I am safe from the volcano, living hundreds of miles south. Nevertheless, my pantry is stocked, and this time I am prepared. Just in case.
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