Last summer, Jonathan Green ’10, a Spanish and journalism teacher at Seaside High School in Seaside, California, asked me to send a few copies of Denison Magazine to him so that he might use them as a reference in his technical writing class. We were, of course, happy to ship them out to the West Coast. Today I received another email from Green with a link to Seaside’s new student publication, The Spartan Chronicles. In the forward to the inaugural issue, Green writes about trying to devise a class project: “As I retired to go to bed that night, I reached to pick up my alma mater’s alumni publication, Denison Magazine. I realized that this could be the class’ project: a magazine about Seaside’s current, past, and future students; a magazine about the whole Seaside community from students to staff to city officials. Instead of a school newspaper that is bogged down by a tight deadlines and plagued by paltry headlines, a magazine has the ability to slow down and take more in-depth looks at the various corners of our school’s surroundings. With that goal in mind, we began marching toward our first issue.”

That first issue is astounding. Not only has the class given voice to the students and staff in their school, but they’ve tackled very real–and often difficult—issues that high school students face all over the nation. In that first issue, student writers talk about what it’s like to be the new kid in class, to be black at Seaside, to be gay. One former student writes about her addiction to alcohol. Another about his success with a new academic program at the school. They explore graffiti and delve into the controversial discussion of whether it is art or vandalism. One writer takes on depression.

In Green’s email to me this morning, he writes: “I want to thank you for providing us with those materials—they have helped us immensely with both our writing and our design… thank you so much for providing us with a source of inspiration.”

Now, Denison Magazine has won a number of awards in its time, and we’re very proud of those. But I have to say, I’m more proud of the fact that Denison Magazine could have had anything to do with the remarkable work of these students.

Professional writer and photographer, Lisa Waterman Gray ’77, spent two years researching and writing An Explorer’s Guide: Kansas, released in June 2011 and featured in the recent print edition of Denison Magazine. She drove more than 13,000 miles, and spent more than 100 days traveling and taking more than 4,000 photographs. A hundred buffalo followed a pickup truck that Gray rode in in southwestern Kansas. She drove the last 13 miles of Route 66 in the southeastern corner, viewed Colorado from Kansas’s highest elevation in the northwest, and walked a Yellow Brick Road in south central Kansas. We asked her to show us a snippet of her research for the book, so here she documents her trip through tornado alley.

I awoke on May 10, 2010 in a casually elegant room full of rustic antiques. Broad windows framed country quiet, and chilly, dreary weather cloaked the landscape. Forecasters in south central Kansas anticipated severe storms and, despite living in the state for 25 years, the thought of driving alone through unfamiliar territory and unsettled weather had my stomach doing flip flops.

Breakfast provided a brief respite inside the beautifully renovated barn of a Winfield B & B. After savoring light-as-air crepes, plenty of coffee, and pleasant conversation, I hurriedly filled my water bottle and re-packed the car. Cool spring rain spit and sputtered as I checked my itinerary and returned to the road.

I briefly toured an 1885 mansion-turned-B & B, decorated in period finery, and then headed towards a rural B & B, beneath an ashen sky. After touring the sprawling home I left hastily, looking upwards again as my stomach tightened. Gravel gave way to paved road, and I relaxed a bit.

Then a high-pitched, screech arose from the passenger wheel well and I pulled over, hoping it would stop. After several quiet minutes the screeching returned and I prayed to reach town safely. Rain fell harder as roadside assistance towed my car to a local repair shop. They found nothing wrong and the noise stopped, but I gladly paid for peace of mind.

After briefly touring a handful of businesses in Winfield’s downtown area, I set my GPS for tiny Sedan. Along the way, I hurried through restaurants, shops and a museum, in Arkansas City.

Severe weather warnings kept my stomach in knots and hands glued to the wheel as I entered open countryside. Years earlier, our family had driven directly beneath a tornado as it skipped across sunset-drenched prairie, after tornadic activity had devastated the nearby small town of Andover. But, this time, I was alone. If I got into trouble, would my cell phone work? How would anyone know where to find me? I gulped down my fear, breathed deeply, and kept driving, eyes riveted to the landscape.

‘Popcorn’ clouds had turned green-gray. An eerie inversion between cool and warm air filled an isolated valley where no other cars were visible, and I constantly scanned the horizon for tornadoes. No birds or animals appeared and the world was oddly silent.

I finally met Sedan’s town ‘ambassador’ in mid-afternoon and followed her car to a beautiful cabin at a private ranch, but none of the lights worked. A text message told my host that all power had also gone out downtown. “Do we have an alternative for lodging?” I asked, knowing that severe weather still permeated the area. “I can’t imagine staying alone, in an isolated cabin, without any power.”

Within minutes, we were headed towards a new hunting lodge with concrete reinforced walls, owners who lived next door, and a backup generator. I had Internet access, a cooler full of snacks, some unopened wine, and cable television. An F-1 tornado had traveled through one highway intersection less than an hour after I passed by, and the weather system I’d fled for the better part of the day had wreaked havoc around Oklahoma City.

But I’d come through okay and slept well that night. A bright and beautiful morning followed – the silver lining behind tumultuous weather in tornado alley. If I could handle the previous 24 hours of Kansas travel, I could handle anything.