The quake was centered in Mineral, Va., a tiny town between Richmond and Charlottesville. Weirdly, that’s where I spent my summers as a kid in the late ’60s and early ’70s because my brother’s Egyptian-born godfather (a defrocked Armenian priest) and his wife ran a baklava bakery there that supplied the clamor for Middle Eastern pastry in Washington and Richmond. Later they got divorced and he became Virginia’s only Armenian-immigrant former-priest sheriff’s deputy. Only in America.