On hot summer nights before air conditioning, when I was a child in North Carolina, my family would sit on the front porch. We hoped to catch any slight breeze that would cool us off. We would watch the night sky with its stars blinking brightly and the moon shining gloriously and be at peace and contentment, even if wet and sticky from sweat.

There were nights, however, in which thunderstorms would shake, rattle, and roll our teeth. Lightning would flash, thunder would roll ("the Lord's corn wagons" was my mother's description) and the rain would pour. I would sit on the porch with my parents, fascinated by the electrical display in the sky, but also terrified of the sudden flash of light and the following explosion of sound which would make me almost jump out of my skin. There was an aw…