Colorado, Day 3: Trip to Laramie, WY

July 20, 2014
          Day 81

It was always the plan.

Laramie, Wyoming was close enough by car to the Boulder, Colorado area, so I wanted to make a kind of pilgrimage there, to honor Matthew Shepard's spirit by sending our warm wishes out into the wind.

There was no need to go to the exact place those guys took Matthew and left him for dead.  There was no need to go down the street that would take us to the other street and the land where he was found.  A brief search on Google and then Google Earth showed me the spot, and just seeing it on my computer screen was enough.  So today would just be about driving through town, understanding the area a bit, and simply seeing the place he was found...from a distance.

The way we die doesn't matter.  None of us would want our loved ones to focus on our method of death or the place we happened to give up our spirit.  Yet this place means something to so many of us.  It's a place we think of when we think of Matthew.  And Matthew is a boy we think of when we think of the uphill climb we're all still on.

So how is the place?  How is Laramie?  The answer might surprise you.

Laramie is, for lack of a better word, average.  It's just a quiet little town surrounded by many, many, many miles of quieter fields and hills.  And the people we met in Laramie were likewise...average.  That is to say, they are just like you and me.  They were friendly and kind, warm and gracious.  They didn't kill Matthew Shepard.  They didn't even want him hurt.  They just live there, and they just grimace like the rest of us when the issue is raised.  (We didn't bring it up, but you can tell these people would not be happy to have their quiet little Wyoming town remembered for anything other than the beauty of the area, the stillness of the land, and the simple, happy life they all live.)

As we left Laramie, Andy put it best.  We were thinking about the event that night that ultimately took Matthew Shepard's life, and thinking about what we'd just experienced in the town of Laramie (a brief drive through town, and a short lunch).  As we pulled onto the highway, Andy said, "These aren't bad people at all here; they're just like us.  They've got all the same stores we do too."  His point was simple and perfect.  We're all the same anywhere you go on this earth.  There are people who do bad things, and there are people who do good things.

So I guess my point is, what have you heard about the town of Laramie before or since Matthew Shepard's murder there?  I'm thinking, like me, you'd answer nothing at all.  Laramie is just a little town where on one night many years ago, a horrible thing happened at the hands of two very disturbed young men.  But on every day since then (and it's already almost 16 years now), life has gone on the same, and nothing horrible has made the news.

Laramie doesn't deserve to be branded a place of hate.  It's simply a place where hate once happened.  And because our planet is so vast and filled with so many kinds of people, it's helpful to remember that just as hate will show up here and there, goodness will prevail much more often.

Matthew was taken from us through a bad act 16 years ago, but Matthew's spirit reminds us of so much more good found every day since...in his name, because of his life, and through his never-ending legacy.

The smoke of a burnt-out candle is not the candle, and the bright light of Matt's life is clearly shining on...forever.

Ever just feel hated?

Photo taken by the Long Island Gay Men's Chorus
on June 14, 2014 in Huntington, Long Island.

June 17, 2014.
Day 48/365

Ever just feel hated?  Like everyone is against you, talking about you behind your back, mocking you and staying away from you?  Most likely, you have experienced this at one point or another in your life, and some of you have experienced it quite a bit.

I've felt this way in grammar school, high school, college and the monastic life, the workplace, and plenty of times online.  But the kind of hate I had to deal with this past weekend was a really scary strain of the hate virus.  It's the kind that has taken over the minds and bodies of otherwise good people, and caused them to act maliciously toward their fellow souls.

On Saturday, June 14, 2014, while I was standing on Route 25A waiting for the Long Island Pride Parade to begin, I spotted a group of four men holding hate signs walking up the road toward me, calling out some kind of hate speech to anyone who would listen as they did.  They'd soon be right in front of my face, and so I decided I would say something once they were. 

Time stopped.  I saw them approaching in slow motion, while across the street, a police officer was directing traffic nearby, and two other officers were walking slowly up the sidewalk.  Friends and strangers alike grew quiet as they approached.  I can see the whole scene repeating in my head over and over again like the Zapruder film.  I knew it was a moment in time, and a moment for me to tell these jackasses they were wrong.

So just as they came walking by, chanting out their hate with pride, I yelled, "God loves everyone!"  Well, they stopped dead in their tracks, and their leader (pictured in the photo above) comes up to me and says, very calmly, "That's right, God does love everyone, but he hates your sin, and he hates my sin too."  Now if this were an online conversation, I would have gone round for round with this fool for another 15 minutes, but instead, I knew he was just demented and sick, sadly suffering with the HATE virus.  I knew there was no way I'd get through to him, that I'd only upset the people nearby even further by giving him the time of day.  So I instead just moved him along with my arm through the air, and told him to keep moving and go away, or I'd call the officers over. 

Well, the officers across the street were now stopped in their tracks watching this happen, and as the guys moved away, the officers turned around, crossed the street, and began following these idiots in the direction they were headed. 

I was proud to have stood up to these sick men, but I was literally shaking for minutes afterward.  They'd gotten to me.  I'd let them get to me. 

And the part that gets me the most is, these were regular guys I might not realize are suffering with the HATE virus if I saw them anywhere else.  If we were in an elevator and it got stuck between floors, these men would probably talk to me very nicely.  If they saw me collapse in the park, they'd probably run over and help me.  If they saw me following them into a store, they'd probably hold the door open for me.  But because I was standing at a pride parade, they chose to hate me, to judge me, to use the Bible against me.  These men are my brothers either way, but on that day, they chose to hate me.

Still, I was grateful for so much more that day than any harm done to my psyche.  I was grateful for the sweet couple to my right, there to support their daughter marching with Pride For Youth.  I was grateful for my partner and my friends nearby for surrounding me with love.  I was grateful for my friend Mac marching in the parade with SAGE (Services and Advocacy for GLBT Elders), who I was able to greet with a big hug.  I was grateful to the police officers who just 30 or 40 years ago would have taken the side of these angry sickos with their hate signs and hate viruses.  And I was grateful for the thousands of people there waving rainbow flags and cheering for others, thousands who have all seen the hate virus spread, but who have all chosen to spread love instead.