Who is Matthew Heines?

Some people say Matthew Heines is one of the great writers of our time. But is Matthew Heines just a great writer?

Matthew Heines a.k.a "The Friendly Gora" meets with Sadhu Holy men

A brief biography...

Matthew (a.k.a "Matt") Heines was born in Utah, but he grew up in the Pacific Northwest in the sleepy town of Sequim, Washington in the shadow of the majestic Olympic Mountains. Matthew graduated high school with much fanfare and relief from his teachers. He served as a paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne Division from 1982-1986, where he learned how to camp, jump out of airplanes and play with dangerous weapons. He then entered the world of academia, annoying college professors at Washington State Universitywhere he majored in History before going on to do his post-graduate work at the University of Alaska, in Anchorage, where he also became a world class sledder and tobogganist* before receiving his Master's degree in Secondary Education.

Matthew has worked as a teacher in Wasilla, Alaska, Seattle, Washington, The Sultanate of Oman and The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Matthew took a job in the Sultanate of Oman a month after September 11th, 2001 and has written two accounts of his experiences in the heart of Arabia during the early years of the War On Terror. To read excerpts from either of his books click here or here, or here

*The third world

Freebirds

by Matthew D. Heines

I find it strange as the years pass,
that our lives whisk by and memories dim.
Across the places and across the faces,
who we are and what we have become
can all be blamed,
on a crazy little town called Sequim.
Who will remember the naughty stool
when we all have passed away?
Who will remember the NK bus
and the bacchic revelries of confused
adolescents passing by their years?
Who will remember the fuzzy drives home,
searching for something in the rain and darkness?
Some of our tales may be
passed on, and some are hushed away,
as we try by our silence to tell our offspring
what we did, "Is not okay!"
The game was changed as we came to know
that youth is not forever.
But in the echoes of the mountains there
behind that sleepy little town,
a song of our youth will forever ring.
Every summer if you listen closely,
you can hear the freebird sing.

Fly high freebirds!