When we first moved to Philadelphia, we had to relearn the meaning of certain sounds, smells, and expressions. I was reminded of one of the first instances last night as a midwestern summer stormed brewed in the skies of Iowa.
Sitting in my new living room in Philadelphia on a clear blue day, I hear what I have always known as the tornado siran; but this did not make any sense to me. I ignored it and went on with my day and hoped for the best. This happened several more times until one day I realized that after the tornado siran I would always hear the blare of fire engines.
But this caused me to have a concern that I would not recognize the siran when there was an actual tornado. It took me a while, but I soon understood that Philadelphia does not have summer storms like the midwest. They like to act like they can brew up a storm, but it is not the cracking thunder and earie orange sky kind of storms that appears April through October in the heartland.