I was planning on publishing a blog of belated Christmas wishes today, as well as a tediously long explanation of why no such wishes were posted here on Christmas Day. But alas, it’s amazing the delightfully unexpected surprises life has in store for you! Just such a surprise popped into my life, so previous blogging plans will have to be adjusted. Why?

    Because my brother just opened my bedroom door, popped his head in and said, “Did you know you’re in this month’s ‘Economist’?”

    Naturally those aren’t words you expect to hear out of your brother’s mouth when you see him for the first time that day, so I’m afraid my response was a rather shocked, “What?!” He laughed and said, “Yeah, Emily was reading it at work today. She said she saw your name in there, about PotterWar. Want me to pick up a copy?”

    You know, thinking back over that little conversation with my brother, it strikes me how funny it is that he was just so blas’e about it. Oh yeah, just another magazine talking about you, no big whoop… hehe, how funny my life is. I think it’s hilarious how all these years later – wow, eight years later! – every so often I still hear a little echo out there in the media about PotterWar and the effect it had. Whether it’s being mentioned by academia (Merry Christmas, Professors Lessig & Jenkins!), or some prestigious news outlet like the Economist, honestly it just never gets old seeing something I did as a kid being talked about so respectfully. It’s nice to know that I did something had that significant an impact that eight years later it’s still remembered and discussed.

    My only regret is that Alastair doesn’t get more attention and respect for the major role he played in the whole affair. He’s just as much responsible for PotterWar as I am. Neither of us realized the long-lasting impact of our decision to put my face up as the forefront of the campaign, that it would end up leading people to believe that I was the only one leading the charge against Warner Brothers. I feel awful that because of that decision, with each passing mention of PotterWar, Al’s contributions are being left unmentioned. He keeps insisting that our decision was sound and that he doesn’t mind, because as he says, “A sweet-faced 16-year-old innocent American girl was a far more sympathetic figure than a 30-something single man from London. Besides, we didn’t need to deal with the inevitable questions about why a grown man was hanging around with said 16-year-old in the first place.”

    Still, he deserves to be remembered. It wasn’t until I met Alastair that PotterWar took off. Hell, it didn’t even have that name until he and I teamed up. But he did more than give it a name; he gave it direction. He kept my childishness out of the clouds of my imagination, keeping me grounded in the reality of reasonable expectations, helping us all to reach the positive conclusion we inevitably came to. He tempered my over-developed sense of righteous indignation, he edited my overly verbose missives, and he sculpted my rough hewn ideas into realistic plans of attack. He was in every respect my absolute equal throughout the entire PotterWar process. We always did everything together, it was always 50/50, it’s just that I had the more sympathetic face that suited our cause. Yet now, because of that, he doesn’t get the credit he deserves.

    So please, do me a favor. As you read the article about Harry Potter in this month’s Economist, use your imagination and interject the name of Alastair Alexander into the paragraph about PotterWar. It’d make me feel better.

    With each passing mention of PotterWar, as great as it feels to know that I’m remembered for something, what makes me happiest is the reminder of how grateful I am that PotterWar brought Alastair into my life. Indeed, without that, this former sweet-faced 16-year-old innocent American girl would have never met that 30-something single man from London, and the closest friendship of my life never would have been forged. Such an unlikely pairing, but hey, life’s funny that way, isn’t it? When your life is strange enough that you wake up one morning to find yourself mentioned in this month’s Economist, is being best friends with a 42-year-old Londoner really that bizarre anyway? It’s all relative. 🙂 Besides, life is definitely more fun when you’re unique.

    Merry Belated Christmas, everybody! And Happy New Year!