On the evening of June 1st, I experienced a moment that was simultaneously déjà vu and first-time ever. A tornado warning had me hunkered down in my basement, recalling numerous other such warnings that had sent me to windowless, subterranean areas during a childhood spent in Illinois and Indiana. The difference this time: The twister and I were both in Massachusetts. And my 10-year-old was off on a school camping trip because, oh yeah, tornadoes usually don’t affect the ...
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