I grew up in Kansas City, in the middle of Tornado Alley, so I know tornadoes. Or at least tornado warnings. My childhood experience with killer storms consisted mainly of trekking over to our next-door neighbors' basement (my family, tempting the gods, didn't have one) on those spring and summer evenings when the weather bulletins got ominous. Usually the excitement would be over in a half an hour or so, and we'd trudge back home, vaguely disappointed that the only twister spotted did nothing more than flatten a gas station near Osawatomie.
The drama of weather back then was all in...
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