A major cultural fixture during that particular time was the Harry Potter book/film series. If you think about it, the timing is really quite remarkable. 9/11/01 signified the beginning of a period in history where the slightest threat of a terrorist attack frightened people half to death. Meanwhile, just starting to gain a following, is a coming-of-age story in which the protagonist is pitted against arguably the greatest fictional terrorist ever created.

I understand the aversion people have to Harry Potter, particularly for the middle aged. Someone says something about a snitch or a dementor and you’re lost. What… the fuck… is a snitch, right? JK Rowling packs her narrative with little magical devices, terms, spells, and creatures that may seem difficult to keep organized. It’s certainly a work of science-fiction. I think you’ve got to be a little immature to enjoy Rowling, certainly to get started.

I was in 6^th grade when I opened the first Harry Potter book. As I think about those books, and the spacing of their release, it’s amazing how closely the stories mirror the growth of a generation from their young teenaged years to adulthood. The final book was published after my freshmen year in college. I was right in Rowling’s wheelhouse.

The Harry Potter book series was fantastic in that, in addition to magic, it combined so many of contemporary society’s defining elements into one character’s experience. It resonated because, over the course of the narratives, the primary characters endure many of the same growing pains as a typical teenager. They’re students, in a school, for six of the seven books. Yet by the end of each installment, Harry is confronted by an incredible evil.

Real terrorism was a major part of the news from 2000 to 2010. My friends and family talked about the Iraq war effort all the time. And it seemed like everyone was comfortable passing judgment on a faith and a code of jurisprudence they did not understand.

Many of those same issues, albeit slightly tweaked, were explored in the Harry Potter series.

Eventually, thankfully, life grants us an occasional resolution.

Osama bin Laden, the individual most responsible for the 9/11 terrorist attacks, is dead. American soldiers killed him. Up until that point, the only world I had ever known was one I shared with fugitive super-terrorist, Osama bin Laden — a person who endeavored to watch the world burn and had proven he has the resources to do so.

In spite of this, I have always believed the people I care most about would be protected from forces trying to subjugate the free world. I was a teenage for most of bin Laden’s evasion. I didn’t spend much time wondering if I was mistaken for thinking this way; sometimes, though, I would feel a touch of worry (particularly around the TSA). Are my friends and family actually in danger from a foreign threat and I have just had blinders on this entire time? What about Sharia? There were certainly plenty of voices spreading fear inciting messages.

Bin Laden’s death changed that. I’m thankful I no longer have to spend any more time wondering how some asshole can orchestrate a massive terrorist attack on United States soil and still live free. And I’m thankful the threat of domestic violence has been lessened.

The idea, I think, is to celebrate the notion that something good can and should replace the defeated, the abdicated, and the former. It’s called progress. While this type of change has affected the general perception of a domestic terrorist threat, another change has occurred that has had a similar effect to the perception of the way the Buffalo Sabres operate.

The only Sabres managerial philosophy I have ever known is one that emphasizes patience, conservation, and the development of young players. I believe that philosophy, if practiced properly, would have eventually led to a championship. There were certainly many people who felt strongly otherwise.

Now that the Pegula family and Ted Black are involved, I no longer have to spend even a moments time wondering if the Sabres are fully committed to winning a championship. That argument disappears.

I’m just starting to adjust to living without having to spend time considering the uncomfortable possibility that I may have a foundational truth wrong. I wasn’t proven right or wrong; the equations have changed to ones with fewer variables. It is liberating to be free of some of the troubling uncertainties.

The question becomes so now what happens. I do not have an answer.

The Harry Potter series tells us we’ll have babies with our best friend’s little sister and name one after the teacher who bullied you in school because he was harboring a secret, unrequited love for your mom. I’m hoping or a different outcome.