It was the day after the Northridge Earthquake. I lived in Granada Hills, which is adjacent to Northridge. Our neighborhood had become a disaster zone and we couldn't go back into our houses and almost everyone put up tents and slept in their front yards until the major aftershocks were over.

One of our neighbors let us know that President Clinton was expected to visit. Not having any idea where he'd visit, I grabbed a few of my friends and a disposable camera. We drove around with the radio on trying to figure out where he might go, but nothing. Then we looked up and saw a few helicopters hovering close by.

We park near a freeway overpass and run over to a crowd that had been forming. The crowd size was relatively small as they weren't advertising his location for obvious reasons. The president gets out of his car and I make it my goal to shake his hand. It seemed he stayed until he shook every persons hand before leaving to the next location. Luckily I was able to shake his hand not once, but twice. Yes, I drove over the the next location and shook his hand again.

It really was uplifting for him to come out so quickly and meet with us. The day before I thought I was going to die and my house was going to collapse on top of me. The next day I shake hands with Bill Clinton twice.