When I met Daniel Radcliffe, I didn’t ask for a photo with me.
I asked for a photo with my childhood friend instead.
Even though we’ve gone years without speaking, she has been a Harry Potter fan for as long as the movies have existed. She’s an avid believer in magic. She fiercely wants to be a Hufflepuff.
And she had no idea I was doing this for her.
Life hasn’t always been kind to her, and she’ll probably never have the opportunity to travel to New York and meet “Harry Potter” herself, so before the show, I printed a picture of her face that I found on her Instagram.
When I met Daniel, I handed him the photo and asked if he’d hold it so I could take a picture of them “together.” Without hesitation, he held up her picture and smiled at the camera.
Then I sent it to her over Snapchat.
She cried. She thanked me. We both knew it wasn’t the same as actually meeting him, but it still meant the world to her.
It was a dream come true. She told me she was going to print the photo and place it at the center of her Harry Potter collection in her room in South Carolina. She proceeded to send me a long video showcasing her cherished collection. It had grown considerably in the 10 years since I saw it last.
I don’t know if she could imagine how honored I felt that she let me into that very personal, important part of her life. After all of the silent years, we had finally connected again. Not really because of Harry Potter, but because of what it meant to her.
The funny thing is that none of this would have happened if Daniel Radcliffe had spent the last fifteen years chasing the biggest paycheck available.
Freedom and Meaning
The Harry Potter series took the world by storm, but once the seventh movie had been released and the story was over, Daniel Radcliffe did something with his career that I can only describe as badass.
He could’ve disappeared.
He could’ve chased the roles with the biggest paychecks.
Instead, he did something I find myself thinking about more and more these days: he chased meaning.
In interviews, Daniel has said he chooses roles that genuinely interest him and have something meaningful to say.
My favorite was when he played a dead guy in the movie Swiss Army Man with Paul Dano. I was skeptical to watch a movie about a man stranded on an island and the dead body he befriends, but my brother promised I’d like it.
It was an undeniably weird movie, but my brother was right. I liked it because it said something important about the human condition—life is messy. People need connection.
However, Every Brilliant Thing was the play that gave me the chance to ask Daniel to do something kind for my friend. It was a Broadway play in which he was the only actor. He played a young boy whose mom tried to commit suicide. I’m certain it was not the highest paying option on the table.
The play instantly piqued my interest because it talked about something taboo: mental health issues. In interviews, Daniel said he wanted to take on the challenge of starring in a one-actor play as an unnamed character because the role sent a meaningful message to the world: life is worth showing up for, even when it’s hard.
When I learned it might be possible to meet him after the show to get an autograph or a picture, I knew I must try. For her.
I was going to use the freedom my job afforded me to fly to NYC on a Tuesday in the hopes of doing something meaningful for someone else.
When the moment finally arrived, I felt pure gratitude. Daniel Radcliffe was in front of me holding a printed photo of my friend. I wanted to say, “Thank you for using your freedom to do meaningful work.” I’m afraid he will never know how much that photo means to my friend.
Because of that moment, though, I know how much the play meant to him. I had the privilege of listening to him talk to the crowd of people gathered there and witness him sincerely connect with people as they shared their difficult stories. He spent over 30 minutes humbly thanking us and asserting his belief that mental health matters. No human experience should be off limits to talk about.
In his infinite kindness, Daniel took the photo with my friend and then asked if I wanted a picture with all three of us. The answer: obviously yes!
That is the kind of life I’m trying to build.
I’m not there yet, but I’m getting closer.
I’ve spent thousands of hours building an aviation career I’m proud of, all while knowing that writing is what gives me meaning. For years, my books and journals sat on the backburner while I built the life that would eventually give me the freedom to return to them.
Life is complicated. We do not get things simply because we want them. It takes work, planning, and sacrifice.
Pursuing aviation was the sacrifice I made to have the freedom to do work that matters to me.
Because of aviation, somewhere in South Carolina, a photo of Daniel Radcliffe holding a picture of my friend now sits at the center of a Harry Potter collection where it will be cherished for years to come.
For me, that’s proof that life is worth showing up for.