Anne or Annie?

With finals over (and without the guilt that accompanies anything fun while that ominous stack of books sits on my desk), I spent a good part of my first free weekend with my girlfriends and, typical to the girl's night stereotype, we ended up watching romantic movies. Within a few days I watched two very different films, both about girls named Anne: the deliciously romantic, innocent, and humorous Anne of Green Gables and the coarse, funny, but more often perverted Bridesmaids.

I was struck immediately by the differences between the two films.

Enter Anne Shirley (spelled with an "e" of course), the hopeful, witty, proud, romantic orphan, who captures the hearts of the people of Avonlea with her compassion and spirit. Her relationship with Gilbert Blythe is sweet, if frustrating (one can't help feeling sorry for Gil each time Anne turns him down). It's a story of school chums who fall in love, but it's also a story about family and friends, about dreams and imagination, about home.

Now enter Annie. From the start, if she's not saying something sarcastic or crude she's doing it. And it's not just her, but all the other characters as well. I'll just say there's a scene with all the bridesmaids sick from both ends-and that's not the worst of it. I'll admit there are some funny scenes, but most are ruined by crass sexual comments (often with pictures to go along). Annie's love interest is a nice guy (one wonders why he went for her), but any redemption their relationship might bring is lost beneath a pile of trash.

Yet, for the second week in a row Bridesmaids ranks second in box office sales. It's bothersome to find this is the kind of film producers make. It's even more bothersome to find this is what people want to watch. If I were you, I'd leave Annie in an empty theatre and bring back Anne from that dusty VCR.

Hugging Trees

Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved climbing trees. In front of my grandmother's house is a magnolia tree perfect for climbing. It has low limbs easy to swing up on and gnarled bark that dips and curves into natural steps. I can still safely sit on its sturdy branches or climb high into the folliage until I disappear. My brother and I spent countless summer hours swinging upside down and playing makebelieve suspended high above the ground.

Then the tree was my natural playground, but today I find an even deeper affinity for trees. It's a connection stronger than the hunger for shade on a hot summer day or delight in springime buds (both of which I feel and enjoy).

No, there is something more to trees if we look closely and see them as they really are.

They are steady. When the world around them is in chaos, on a stormy night or a blistery winter day, they are immovable. Their roots, sunk deep in the cool ground, hold them still. Their thick trunks never bend. Their branches may wave and their leaves may fall, but through it all they remain constant. There is determinance in the tree, as if it's saying "This is who I am and nothing changes that. I will stay here, and I will live and die here."

And because of this, I have a great respect for the tree. I, with my constant worrying and indecision. My ability to be persuaded by others and my fear of what is to come, the tree feels none of that. He is strong against all odds. If fate deals him a bad card, if he is lost in the shadows or scorched by the heat, he endures it with joy and peace.

I draw strength from the tree. Sitting on its natural curve, my legs and arms wrapped around its cool branch, I feel what the tree feels. My empathy with the tree reminds me to be strong, to be confident, to be sure, and to endure. And I think, how happy I would be, if I were as steady as a tree.

Justice or Revenge?

From Americans cheering on the White House lawn, to Twitter posts, to the honking horns outside my window, the announcment of Osama bin Laden's death produced a flurry of excitment and celebration in the United States. Indeed, there is much to celebrate. Osama bin Laden killed almost 3,000 people on September 11th alone and is responsible for numerous terrorist attacks around the world. The American soldiers who took him out are heroes and the United States is safer without him.

But amidst the victory, I worry there is a vicious sentiment. There are some who celebrate Sunday's attack as justice, and others as revenge. The Wall Street Journal published editorials Tuesday and Wednesday citing bin Laden's death as vengeance. One of the editorialists Bret Stephens writes, "As for bin Laden, what was meted out to him was vengeance. Vengeance pure and simple, sweet and sound. Vengeance cathartic, uplifting, necessary, and right. Got a problem with that? I don't." He goes on to say that "there can be no true justice without vengeance."

If his definition of justice is tit for tat, eye for an eye, Old Testament style justice, Stephens might be right. But is retribution the reason we killed bin Laden? Is retribution the right reason to kill anyone at all? I don't think so. Revenge is passionate, spiteful, and unconstructive. It is a violent sentiment that disreagards the long term effects of an action and the inherent value of every individual. Justice, on the other hand, does neither. I think it is best understood as the Founding Fathers understood it, as the protection of man's natural rights (among those life, libery, and the pursuit of happiness). If this is how we define justice, there is a valid reason for killing bin Laden. He posed a threat to our lives. He attacked without precedent. He was, thus, a dangerous enemy. This alone justifies our killing bin Laden. Revenge has nothing to do with it. It is with somber congratulation that we should celebrate his death, not ecstatic delight; with our eyes upwards towards justice, and away from revenge.

Skeletons, Tombstones, Fog and...Cupcakes?

Last Friday was my roommate's 21st birthday. Instead of hitting the bars, we opted on something a little more romantic (or as others called it, creepy). We headed to the local graveyard. Tucked away on the edge of town, there's a dirt road that leads through a rod iron gate. Inside are rolling green hills, oak trees and grey tombstones. Five of us spent a lovely evening on picnic blankets, sipping rum and coke, opening presents, and eating red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.

It got me thinking, though, why are people so averse to graveyards? Hundreds of horror films, superstitious ghost stories, and Halloween all contribute to our fear and dislike of graveyards. But in the light of day (and under a starry night) graveyards are peaceful, often quite beautiful respites. They are places of reverence to life's mystery and remembrance to those who came before us. Instead of avoiding them, I propose just the opposite.

So, I put together this list of things one can do when visiting a graveyard. Do enjoy and partake as you wish!

1. Picnic. Bring along your checkered blanket, your wicker basket full of pb&j sandwiches and juice boxes, a couple of good friends, and a romantic novel (I'd ditch the Stephen King thriller if I were you...).

2. Star gaze. This is best in fall with your significant other. Just wear a baggy sweatshirt with a hood so you don't get your hair dirty.

3. Jog. It's quiet and peaceful. There's no one to bother you but the friendly brown squirrels. There are cleared dirt paths and you won't run the risk of being run over by a maniac.

4. Bring flowers. Depending on the age of the cemetery, there are probably those buried who lived long before us. Perhaps soldiers who fought in the civil war or a famous author or someone you never knew who lived a simple life. Pick a few wildflowers on your way to lay on the graves.

5. Study. Tired of the stuffy library? Bring your backpack and a friend, lean up against a tree and finish the next day's reading (this one works best if you're reading Hamlet or studying for Anatomy...).

6. Celebrate. Birthday? Bachelorette party? Bake cupcakes, buy candles, bring presents. Arrive at graveyard around 11:00. Use candles on the cupcakes for light. Drink alcohol and swap girl stories (topics include but are not limited to: boys, parties, and lifetime dreams)

7. Walk. Enjoy an afternoon stroll by yourself, collecting your thoughts and stretching your legs.

8. Take pictures. Whether it's disposable or digital, put on a summer dress and snap away. You'll be surprised the treasures you'll find-a yellow daisy here, a fox there, moss on a tree, a quirky name on a tombstone.

9. Pray. What better place to contemplate our mortality than a graveyard? What better place to thank God for the life given us? What better place to awe at the beauty and fragility of life? What better place to worship?

10. Journal. Find an old oak tree, lean against, prop your notebook on your knee, and scribble away. Write about anything-your latest love, your newest insight, a poem, or what you ate for breakfast. None of it's insignificant; all of it's essential and important for you.