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Mike Mehalek writes fast-paced lyrical books that can be enjoyed with one reading but have enough substance for re-reading. He brings stories to life that demand to be told, regardless of the hopes/dreams/fears/desires of his characters--the Story first--always the Story.

In 2008 Mike earned his masters degree in writing popular fiction from Seton Hill University

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Friday, October 12, 2012

Remembering Matthew Shepard 14 years later

Matthew Shepard.

I’m guessing that you haven’t heard or thought of that name in a while.  I suspect some of you don’t even know who Matthew Shepard is--

--Who Matthew was.

Honestly, I can’t pretend that I knew him personally.  I can’t even guarantee if we knew each other that he’d have liked me.

Sadly the little I of know of Matthew goes something like this:

In the wee hours of October 7th in Laramie, WY, Matthew was taken by two men to a rural location (in the guise of giving him a ride home) tortured, abused and then left to die tied to a fence post.  Eighteen hours later he was found by a passerby, in a coma but still alive.  (Think about that for minute.  Better yet set an alarm on your cell phone for 18 hours just to get a feel for how long that is).  One report I read said Matthew's skull was fractured, his face covered in blood, except where his tears had run.  Matthew died 5 days later from his injuries.  The reason for the murder?  Matthew was gay.

And so as today, October 12, 2012, commemorates the 14th anniversary of Matthew Shepard’s death, I want to take this moment to give my sincere thanks and appreciation to Matthew’s family and friends.  Thank you for all that you have done to protect the rest of us, the LGBT community.  I am eternally grateful for your efforts,  and I'm so sorry for the price you had to pay--the price you continue to pay--to make this country a less hateful place for me to live, someone you’ve never met.  It’s a small token but know that you have all of my condolences, all of my heart, all of my love.

Apple of my eye
Orchard tears, how they sting still
My forgotten son.

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