Apathetic people fall near the bottom of my totem pole of favorite kinds of people. Somewhere between those people who let the door drop on you as you unsuspectingly walk behind them and people who ask stupid questions.

I’ve heard enough unfair assessment of sorority women and fraternity men to assume that those uneducated and/or unexperienced in the system tend to believe that we are quite apathetic people ourselves. I’ve seen the glances and eyerolls my non-Greek friends share amongst themselves while I go on about a story involving my sorority. In my sociology class last year, I read an entire discussion board dedicated to the “worthlessness” that is the Greek system. Stereotypes happen, and with websites like TotalFratMove.com (a satirical, and funny read in my opinion), or movies like Animal House, I can see where these harsh judgments come up.

That’s why I’m here to tell you why they aren’t true.

One of the best and greatest things about going Greek is that once you do, you become passionate about it, and passion is something that can’t ever go wrong. Passion is the complete opposite of apathy.

For the last 7 months, I had the opportunity to serve as my sorority’s Director of Philanthropy. I got to experience, from a first hand view, the type of passion and dedication a group of college aged girls can have when it comes to raising money for a cause that we care about. It’s the kind of thing that makes you fiercely proud to associate with these ladies. It’s the kind of thing that helps assure you that our nation is headed into great hands.

No, maybe not all 285 girls in the chapter gave it 100%. But if you ever found an organization that didn’t have slacking members, I’d call you a liar. There will always be some who scrape by with the crowd. This post is not for them.

This post is for the girls who came to the house to help when cries of SOS went out. For those who ventured into fraternity houses at mealtimes to talk about our poker tournament after waiting for series of guys to, sweetly albeit awkwardly, stand at attention while we talk. For the girls who asked their parents, their grandparents, their aunts and uncles and friends for donations, and for those who gave to us without looking back. For the girls who spent hours glittering decorations so that our event can sparkle as much as we do. This post is for the girls who stepped outside their comfort zone to help as much as they could at the tournament, even if it meant learning how to deal poker on the day of and going head first into a full-blown, amateur tournament.

This post is also for those who supported us. The 20 Mizzou fraternities who agreed to not only give up some of their precious money but their precious time to spend the day with the Alpha Phis while helping us raise money for the number 1 killer of women, cardiac disease. The parents, who drove from close and far away to spend what might have been only a day with their daughter and her sisters at what was maybe her first Rockin’ Red Dress Poker Tournament or her last. And this post is for those who couldn’t be there with us, but made their presence known through donations and well-wishes.

This post is for everyone who believes in the Greek system, and the amazing things that come out of it.

I’ve never been more proud to say I am a sorority woman than I am today, 2 days after the event and still glowing with pride at kind of show my sisters have put on. From an early morning set up to a 7:45pm finish that could not have ended more perfect than one of my good friends going home with the top prize, it was a day I’ll never forget.

So if you’re one of those naysayers, haters, believers in stereotypes and all the falsities that come with it, I am sorry for you. You may go the rest of your life without experiencing the kind of pride, joy, and triumph I feel right now. As of this moment, we’ve raised $18,000+, and more is on the way. Apathy can’t do anything like that.

Never, in my 20 years of life thus far, have I understood the term, “Only the good die young.”

“But why must the good die young?” is always my first question. So far, no one’s really been able to answer it. If they were so good, why did they have to go? In a world that constantly struggles with the balance between good and bad, why would you take the good and leave the bad? Does this just encourage us to be bad, because the bad don’t go young?

Someone told me it’s just a saying to make us all feel better, but to be frank I don’t feel much better about it at all. In fact, it infuriates me. It’s unfair. And I don’t like the term “unfair.” I usually think it is an overused, excuse of a term that is whiny-sounding.

But given the tragedy that happened in a Newtown, Connecticut yesterday, unfair truly defines this horrific nightmare.

26 lives were taken too early. 20 of them were children. Twenty. 20 of our most precious gifts were ripped from our world before they even reached half the age I am now. Where is the fairness in that? Where’s the justice in that? Ever since I first read about the shooting that shocked this small, well-to do town, I can’t stop thinking about the lives these children left behind, uncompleted.

They didn’t get to say goodbye to their families one last time. For many, they had only experienced 5 holiday seasons before they were gone. It’s unfair.

They didn’t get to understand why this was happening to them. They were too young to know the good and evil in this world before they were confronted with it head on. It’s unfair.

They didn’t even get the chance to make their own mistakes and learn from them, to mature and experience the trials and tribulations of growing up that we all took for granted. It’s unfair.

And they were stripped of their full potential before any of us got to see what they could become.

This is nothing but unfair.

These lives were lost far, far too early. Kids should never be faced with the kind of terror that was running rampant in their elementary school sanctuary. Parents should never have to bury their children. All the good should never die young.

What can we take from this? For me, the hardest part of reading about national tragedy after national tragedy is trusting society again. I never want to leave my house for days after something like this happens. I was scared to go to class in the weeks following the shooting of Arizona Representative Gabrielle Giffords. I refused to go to the movie theater for months because of the Aurora, Colorado shooting. I’m still trying to determine how to buy my Christmas presents without going to the mall after the Oregon shooter. It’s hard for me to take anything from these situations but fear.

But all these children died, most before they even reached double-digit ages. They will not have died in vain. I must take something from this, something more than debilitating fear of the outside world, in order to ensure that their lives were not lost so early for nothing. There is always a reason, and God always has a plan.

We must use this unfathomable tragedy to change our society. This should start conversations that need to happen – not fights. It’s crazy to me to think that a day marred by physical violence continued with on-air and online fighting of people both defending gun rights and calling for gun control. Out of respect for the victims, we could at least handle this with a little less brutality than what got us in the situation in the first place. No, fighting is not the answer to our problems. An eye for an eye solves nothing.

As a country, we must recognize that these problems can’t be solved unless we work together. We must understand that there is not just one solution. Gun control alone will not solve the problem. Addressing mental illness alone will not solve the problem. And dividing ourselves into two sides will sure as hell not solve any of these problems.

Yesterday, President Barack Obama gave a short press conference about the shooting, during which he wiped away tears and took several deep breathes before being able to continue. Many people recognized what I did as well, when I watched this withered man on television display most of the emotions we were all struggling with at home. Yesterday, President Obama was not a Democrat, not a politician, not on one side or the other – President Obama was a father. More than that, President Obama was a human.

What keeps me going back into this world that has let me down far too often in the short amount of time I’ve been on this planet is the hope that we will come together and move past this. That one year, the statistics will not be worse than the year preceding it. That one day, we can stop ranking the worst mass murders in this country and instead live in one where every place that is supposed to be safe – the movies, the mall, our schools – is safe without question. I truly, honestly believe that we can be the United States and fix a problem that is too deadly to continue. Our nation is great, and our nation will rise to the challenge.

We should do this for ourselves. We should do this for our future generations. And we should do this for those 20 children, may their young souls rest in peace.

First, I want to prelude this with I am not a sports writer. I like sports, I talk sports, but I do not write sports. Not least of all because there are writers far more eloquent and knowledgeable than me who write sports stories as powerful and as touching as a column in the New Yorker. Sports writers are my favorite kind of writer, and I will not discredit them by pretending to count myself as one of their own.

But for what I have to say today, sports are only a small part of a greater issue.

Late last night, Dorial Green-Beckham and two other members of our Missouri Tigers football team were arrested in our stadium parking lot on marijuana possession charges.

Now, I’ve seen what most people are saying. “It’s not a big deal,” “it’s just a college kid thing,” and “everyone gets in trouble,” are all reasons I’ve read today as to why we should just pass this off as just a dumb mistake.

Dumb mistake is right. But I have other issues with all those stated above.

Starting with “it’s not a big deal.” Ok, it’s not a big deal in the greater scheme of things. Down the line, DGB will ultimately be okay, and his life is not detrimentally affected. But for right now it is a big deal, because it prevents him from doing what he came here to do: play football. He has already been automatically suspended for this weekend’s SEC game against Vanderbilt, and we don’t know if there is more to come. So for him and Tiger football fans, yes, this is a big deal.

But moving on to larger problems because the world doesn’t revolve around football, as much as it seems to everyone – including myself – I see a problem rooted in “it’s just a college kid thing.” Yes, DGB is a college kid. And yes, college kids smoke pot. That’s all fine and good and “normal” as defined by most of society. But here’s my thing: DGB is a college kid but he isn’t just a college kid. He’s an athlete. And not just an athlete, he’s a damn good one. A wave of MIZ-DGB started from the day speculation began that he was coming to the day he signed Mizzou to the day of his first collegiate touchdown last week. DGB is by no means a normal college student.

In my opinion, as an athlete well known and valued on not just this campus but on a larger, national scale, he is a role model. There are young Tiger fans in the stands and at home every weekend, watching him play and making dreams around the chants of “MIZ-DGB.” So whether Dorial likes it or not, people look up to him. Once you accept the perks of “star athlete” status, you also accept the responsibility of being a role model to those who view you as a star athlete. And role models do not get arrested in the football stadium parking lot for smoking 3 days before a game. They just don’t.

People saying “free DGB” clearly haven’t learned anything from our last year of Pinkel, Paterno, Petrino incidents which if nothing else, have proved that no one, not even athletes or multimillion dollar coaches, are above the rules. DGB might have been just smoking pot, and his absence will not be detrimental to the team on Saturday, but this should send a greater message to sports fans and our community in general. Anyone in a position of power or even in a position where at least, they have some influence over other people, should be and will continue to be held up to a higher standard. Those who are lucky enough to have opportunities not extended to everyone should be too. That’s the return for either the money or even just the prestige that comes with whatever you do. Once you’re in the spotlight, it never really dims on anything you do.

Does anyone remember Blaine Dalton? He was a star quarterback coming out of Blue Springs South High School, and during my early high school days I remember reading about the kid who could be the next big star, following the likes of Brad Smith and Chase Daniel. If you don’t remember Dalton, it’s because he didn’t play. Arrested for a MIP and then just a few months later, a DUI, Dalton saw his dreams die in the wake of two stupid, stupid decisions. He said he didn’t drink more than any other college student but here’s the kicker, again: he was never just another college student. The first time, Coach Pinkel suspended him from the team saying he holds quarterbacks to a higher standards. My question is shouldn’t we hold them all to higher standards?

To say that what DGB does during his free time is irrelevant to what he does on the field is ignoring so many other aspects that being an athlete means. How many people wish they could have the opportunities given to DGB and to Dalton? How many people would take that opportunity and act every bit as appropriately as required of them? Furthermore, to expect special treatment for people who are famous, whether on a large or small scale, is an insult to our criminal justice system. And quite frankly, DGB gets what he deserves, because he has hugely disrespected our football program, smoking in the parking lot of the very stadium where he is revered.

I love Missouri football as much as the next person you see on campus. This isn’t about the football. Yes, it frustrates me that our WR is out for a game, even though I know his absence isn’t going to hurt that bad. And this isn’t about pot. Yes, DGB can smoke all he wants, because it’s not my future that is dependent on his football abilities. This is about doing things right and doing things wrong. If he is stupid enough to do illegal activities in a public area and he gets caught, then I think he deserves to get in trouble every bit as much as whatever no-named student got caught doing the same thing a few cars over in a different lot.

This might just be one incident for DGB. Let’s hope this is just one incident for DGB. Because as Blaine Dalton could tell him, his dreams aren’t worth a couple of “dumb mistakes.”

Tonight I, like millions of others, watched the London Olympics Opening Ceremonies with my family. But this isn’t a post about the glitz and glamour of the show. Nor is it a post about this one-of-a-kind, world tradition. This is a post a lot more relevant to you and me.

It’s about a commercial.

Yes, a commercial. There was a commercial during one of the show breaks that really struck a chord with me. It was a Target ad, but there weren’t any products or Spot the dog in it. This commercial showed real students as they reacted to their college admissions. There was pure, unedited joy and pride on their faces as they defied all their own obstacles to receive their lifeline: an education.

I’ll be a college junior in the fall, and as I reflect on my education, I’ll say it. I’ve done pretty well. I scrape by with above average grades, and I try to get involved in as many activities as I can manage. But do not confuse “pretty well” with “my best” because that is not true. While I’ve done well, I can always do better.

What I think some of us forget every day, in the name of the next themed party or big game coming up, is that we’re in college for an education. Not just for the good times and the good life now, but for a good life in the future. And even more crucial, I think some of us forget that there are millions of other people, in the US and around the world, who wish to be living our very lives.

It is so easy to blow off that homework assignment because it’s “only worth 5 points.” Or it only takes a few seconds, and maybe some words of encouragement from a friend, to skip a class because lecture is “only lecture.” Believe me, I’ve made all the excuses in the book and then a few more. Better is still a long ways away for me.

But watching that commercial made me realize how truly lucky I am. I didn’t even bat an eye when I received my admission letter to Mizzou, I just expected it to happen. That’s my mistake, and the mistake I suspect many of my peers make as well. We just expect things to happen for us.

Things don’t just happen. I’m receiving my education from a world-class university and I have never worried about financing my school career. This is thanks to the hard work of my parents, who came from a foreign country to America with nothing but a desire for a better life and better education than what they could receive at home. Thanks to their dedication to the pursuit of a good life, I have been privileged to grow up in the city I grew up in, with the school system I went through that lead me to the university I attend. This is an opportunity denied to many. And as the Target commercial showed, an opportunity cherished by even more.

For me to not try my hardest in school is an insult to myself, my parents, and the millions to whom education is only but a wish and a dream.

The Olympians, they understand this. You never see an Olympian in the game, going for the medal, half-assing it.  They understand that if they decide they don’t want it for even just a second, there’s someone out there who will want it more. They understand that to stand in the spot they do, it can be achieved by trying nothing short of their very best. They understand that they’re living the dream of every young (and even old) athlete watching them from home on their televisions, imagining their own shining moment of glory at the top of that podium stand.

We might not be world-famous athletes, but there are people who want to be us. There are people who want the opportunities we’ve been given. And I for one, am not taking it for granted any more. Doing “pretty well” never wins you the gold. But sometimes, your best will.

Growing up, I used to keep a journal with a special section titled “Things My Parents Did Wrong That I’m Never Going To Do.”

Younger me was pretty dramatic.

But now that I’m older, I find myself crossing so many things off that list I made so many years ago that the list should almost be renamed “Things My Parents Did That I’m Thankful For Now.”

I complained that my parents never spent enough time with me. I didn’t think they listened to me. I always thought they were being too hard on me. I was forever the picture of older child rebellion, except for the fact that more than anything in the entire world I craved my parents’ approval. So, I tried to keep my mouth shut, and whenever I felt wronged sometimes I would yell about it, but eventually I learned to just write it down in my little learning guide for my future parenting.

Being the selfish kid I was, I thought the only purpose of their rules was to ruin my life. On more than one occasion, I found their punishments unreasonable and their standards unreachable.

At age 20, I now understand. My parents couldn’t make it to some tennis matches or orchestra concerts because they were busy working to make sure I had a comfortable life to live. They listened to me, but were not afraid to correct me when I was wrong, which was often. And they were never harder on me than they needed to be – they were just hard enough to help me reach all the potential I had that I couldn’t see.

As I finish my second year of college, I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am for the upbringing I had and the parents I’ve been blessed with.

My parents have taught me never to expect anything – every privilege I have must be earned. The right to hang out with friends and even the right to date has been determined by the level of respect I treat my parents and the grades I’ve earned.  I am fortunate enough that my parents have never demanded that I work to pay for the things I want. The only thing my parents have ever asked of me is respect and good grades – a promise to them that in the future, I have a plan and I will be okay. And after everything they’ve done for me and the sacrifices they’ve made, I think that’s the least I could do.

I’ve been constantly challenged to prove why I deserve to have the rights I want. Did I want to stay out later than 1am on Homecoming my senior year of high school? Yes? Then maybe I should have been doing better in my AP classes. Did I want to go to that one party? Yes? Then maybe I shouldn’t have lied to my parents about my whereabouts the day before it.

I have been treated with nothing but fairness, and on the principle that if I want something, I better have a reason why I deserve it. This has not changed since I’ve gone to college. From two and a half hours away, my parents understand they can’t stop me from going out on a Wednesday night or spending a weekend in Memphis with my friends, but they made sure I knew that at the end of the semester I damn well better bring home the grades to prove I can handle managing my own life. And the fact I can do that makes me prouder than ever.

Everything your parents do is for you. Shouldn’t everything you do be for them too?

Mom and Dad –

I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you’ve given me, from the material items to the life lessons I needed. Thank you for always making me earn my privileges, defend my mistakes and make my own choices. Thank you for standing by me as I went from pre-med to journalism to pre-law. Thank you for calling me out when I was acting too spoiled or too ungrateful. And thank you for always believing in me.

Love,

Claudia

I think I was ten years old when I started watching the very first season of The Bachelor.

Back then, I used to start a lot of television series, most too mature for my age but as I didn’t have cable, I watched whatever I found. It just took one flashy, interesting promo to catch my eye and I gave the pilot a chance. It worked for One Tree Hill, Desperate Housewives, and Grey’s Anatomy, shows I started when they very first began. A couple seasons in and each obsession fizzled out after a while, due to one bizarre plotline or another. One Tree Hill and Desperate Housewives both fast-forwarded some years, leaving plot holes and mysteries I was no longer interested in solving. Grey’s Anatomy lost a loyal follower after I was severely traumatized by a season finale.

All for the better, I suppose, because these days I don’t have much time to watch television. However, one show has stuck with me since the very first episode: The Bachelor and The Bachelorette series.

I remember the first promo – the gorgeous women, the handsome man, the now nearly-iconic image of the bachelor standing in front of a beautiful tropical sunset – it would suck me into the show now every bit as it did then.

Today, 11 years, 17 bachelors and 9 bachelorettes later, I am still a dedicated watcher. I’ve seen the craziest of the cat fights, the funniest of the bromances and very few fairy tales come true. But, like the millions of other women out there who still watch, and the thousands who try to be a part of the Bachelor/ette “family” every year, I have remained a faithful follower of the show supposedly dedicated to the pursuit of true love.

Why do we do it? Why do we dedicate two hours a week to watch ridiculous people make fools of themselves on national television over a silly rose? Why hasn’t the famed ABC series yet lost its touch?

Because at the bottom of it all, everybody wants to see a good love story.

I’m not saying the show is the perfect match.com for relationships. It’s not even close, actually, and the success rate between the two shows is a whopping 2 marriages. (3, if you want to count when Jason Mesnick dumped Melissa Rycroft on the “After the Final Rose” special to choose runner-up Molly Malaney.) No, I’m not saying we watch the show because of the strength of the relationships rolling out.

It’s the journey itself. It’s the idea. The idea that just one coincidence, one right moment, two people in the same place at the same time, can lead to something beautiful. Can lead to something real.

How do you find true love? Have you found true love? If you have or if you haven’t, who are you to question other people’s right to find it?

Sure, there are some crazy -(insert your choice of inappropriate noun here)- who show up wanting nothing more than their 15 minutes of fame and maybe a fabulous trip to somewhere cool. Typically, every season has that one blown-out-of proportion villain and victim. Yes, the producers are a little over-the-top with their unnecessary need to add obnoxious drama into every episode. And as we all know, most of the time, we do not always agree with every choice the Bachelor or Bachelorette makes.

But I firmly believe that most people on this show want the same things as you and me: the chance to meet someone who could change their life.

Happy coincidences happen every day. The guy you meet in biology, the girl who smiles across the room at a party, you can try denying it but you’re always on the look out for that person. This television series is an extreme case of serendipity, but in the end if it works out, it’ll make one hell of a story won’t it?

We watch because we believe it can happen. We want nothing more than to believe that it takes one chance of a rose ceremony for a guy and a girl to meet and a magical fairy tale story to unravel.

The Bachelor/ette series may only have one true successful marriage, but in an age where you can pull hope from just about anything, one should be enough. Trista Rehn, the first Bachelorette, met her prince charming in firefighter Ryan Sutter. A coincidence? Yes. A happy one? Absolutely.

The reason why I keep watching? You bet. If it can happen once, it can happen again. All you need is a little love.

You see it on television, in the paper, on the internet. You hear personal stories of both success and sadness, and learn about both advances and setbacks in the fight against it. But you don’t actually know cancer until you are straight up confronted by it. And at that point, all other recollections of what you knew about cancer before then completely changes.

My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was in 5th grade. I came home from school one day and she was crying at the kitchen sink. That’s the last memory I have from the months of chemotherapy and radiation. My memory blocked out everything about the horrible disease and problems it presented my family. Next, I remember my Mom being healthy and above all else, happy.

This month has been Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It’s been a month of celebrating survivors and praising the legacy of those who lost their fight but whose memories live on in family and friends who continue the fight against breast cancer. For me, it’s a month of reflecting how lucky I am to have my Mom, and how very lucky we are that cancer didn’t take anything from her – in fact, it made her stronger.

It renewed her love for life. It encouraged her to experience new things and take life a little less seriously. It reminded her to cherish every moment. It turned my Mom from a patient into a fighter, and champion for not just herself but for others. And, as if it was even possible, it made her even more of a compassionate human being.

I am extremely blessed to have such an amazing mother with an inspirational story and the ability to share her talents and compassion with the world. She has designed 2 Hallmark Breast Cancer Awareness cards, which are handed out for free every year at all Hallmark Gold Crown stores. She and my family participate nearly every year in the Kansas City Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure, where we meet other survivors and have the privilege of hearing their stories and supporting their cause. Once, my mom was even pictured on a giant truck along with other survivors as the face of breast cancer.

But it’s beyond the general things that make me most proud of my mother – it’s her personal touches that she extends to not just her family, but to all those she meets. It’s her capacity to love that inspires me to write and to remind people to continue fighting for the cause. Let me tell you a story.

At one of the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cures (which, before she had been diagnosed, my mother would have never tried to participate in, just because it is outside of her comfort zone) we met an amazing single mother of 2 young children who was diagnosed with breast cancer in her early twenties. Scary and unbelievable, right? Our entire family was touched by her story and extended our sincerest wishes and prayers to help her get through such hard times. But my mother took it a step further. My mom took down her name and contact information and sent her presents and offered her support whenever was necessary. She just knew, from one fighter to another fighter, that help was only a kind extended hand away.

This is what October means to me. It means wearing my pink with pride and knowing the impact a simple ‘how are you doing today?’ can have. It means taking time to help those in need even when they don’t ask for it. It means remembering my mother’s fight and her continued dedication to help those around her.

October 31 is just Halloween to most people. It’s also the end of Breast Cancer Awareness Month – but that’s only a title. Breast cancer awareness and any kind of cancer awareness doesn’t stop when the promotions, commercials and “special events” end. It ends when cancer is gone. God bless those who have fought, survived or lost their battle with cancer, and their families and friends who keep them strong.

Most books, like their authors, are born to die; of only a few books can it be said that death hath no dominion over them; they live, and their influence lives forever.  ~J. Swartz

“It all ends.” screams Harry Potter movie posters I see not only in the theaters or in magazines, but on Facebook posts and pictures as well. Everyone is saying it, like it’s a TT on Twitter, or a political campaign wagon to jump on just when it takes off in the direction everyone thinks will win. It’s like “that’s so fetch” or “winning!”. It’s the phrase of the month nobody will stop repeating. (Though, admittedly, it is better than lyrics from that God-awful Friday song.)

But to those people who so boldly dare say that the completion of a movie franchise -based on books – is “the end”, I would like to announce: you are incorrect.

This is not “the end”. What is it “the end” of, anyway? The end of midnight releases? The end of wild apprehension at what will come next? You already know what will happen in the movie, if you did the reading beforehand like you should. Call me old-fashioned, but I consider it nearly sacrilegious walk into a movie based on a book having not actually read it first. And there will be more opportunities for you to dress up – I believe there is a holiday dedicated to that, check your October calendar if you are unsure.

No, this is not “the end.” Harry Potter is more than just a smashing box office success, more than just an ingenious literary masterpiece. Harry Potter is one of those rare novels that those who do and don’t like reading both derive an unmatched, unwavering love for the characters we’ve watched grow up and the world we’ve seen flourish. Harry Potter is the reason we believe in the magic that is reading.

Imagine the child, or even the adult, who swore off books as a waste of time, whose pleasures can be overshadowed by those brought about by television or the Internet. They apprehensively pick up a Harry Potter book only to be swept up in the magical world that is not Hogwarts, but their imagination, taking off to picture the world JK Rowling has flawlessly envisioned. Spell-bound, if you will, at the amazing, magnificent images only their minds can create, better than anything an actor and a set in Hollywood could produce.

I’m not saying Harry Potter is the sole reason those who so rarely read they can nearly be called illiterate pick up a book and read. There are many timeless classics well worth taking the time to read, their lessons just as crucial and their stories just as powerful as the Potter series. Harry Potter doesn’t deserve all that credit. But, there’s just something about Harry Potter that draws us to him. That so fiercely binds us to his story that we don’t just read it once, we read it twice, three times, more than that. Those who enjoy reading and those who dread it alike are revel in his story and travel in his adventure like he is our own best friend.

It might be the way JK Rowling has seamlessly sewn together seven books and thousands of pages into an exciting, unpredictable story that has new surprises and hints every which way you turn. The way she has woven in themes so basic you learned about them in elementary school fable stores. Themes of morality, death, and staying true to one’s self, so well incorporated into the story you don’t even know you’re learning and growing as you read.The creative genius of that alone should be enough to pull you in.

But it doesn’t stop there. It might be the way she creates characters so real, so relatable, so true to human nature and the many forms it takes that we can’t help but find someone or someones to connect with. She introduces us to characters exemplifying characteristics as powerful as courage and determination to characteristics as damning as selfishness and cowardice. We immediately see ourselves, our family members, our friends, our enemies, represented in the many characters she has produced and let grow throughout the series.

Or, it might simply be that Harry Potter is true magic.

As wise Professor Dumbledore said “I will only be gone when none here are loyal to me.” 

The book series ended four years ago, taking with it a small piece of every self-proclaimed Harry Potter nerd’s heart. The end of a decade of books, its popularity with each book exponentially increasing so much that with the release of the final book emotions were running so high it can be said it was like a member of the world’s own family died.

And this week the movie franchise will come to an end. Shutting the door on eight spell-casting movies that captivated audiences bringing many of our favorite, most-imagined scenes to life on the big screen and introducing us to a cast we watched mature as both individuals and as actors.

But, Harry Potter will not be gone after the final credits have rolled and the final tear has been shed. As long as we continue to re-read, to re-watch, as long as we continue to believe that our Hogwarts letter is just one very lost and confused owl away, Harry Potter will not be gone and this will most certainly not be the end.