Almost every morning I walk the beach to Starbucks, buy a café mocha, sit on a bench at the end of the pier and watch the totally unpredictable performance of the Pacific Ocean and all its creatures, above and below the surface of the sea.

One of the stars of the show is an old brown pelican who waddles around the wharf chasing after every freshly caught fish. Sometimes a sympathetic fisherman will toss his catch of the day in the pelican’s direction. Other times the bird is ignored and after a quick protest screech he whirls about indignantly and waddles off to try his luck again.

To start with I am in awe of pelicans in general. How they plummet from such heights without breaking apart on impact is truly a sight to behold. From tip to tip, the wingspan of this old bird must be at least six feet. I can’t even imagine the intricate combination of feathers, bones, tendons and muscles that keep him airborne or the compact and comfortable way those wings fold up against his body.

This morning, the old pelican sat on a railing of the pier watching the fishermen and tolerating the occasional tourist who just had to snap a close up of this calm and curious creature. He fears no one. This is his pier and he stands guard over it like a cranky old watchman.

Today my meditation was interrupted by a 13 or 14-year-old boy who approached the pelican with a fishing pole in hand. Neither the old bird with feathers nor the old bird with a café mocha suspected for a moment that the kid had evil in mind. Suddenly he swung the sinker at the end of his fishing line towards the pelican and as the poor, unsuspecting bird spread his wings to fly, the kid’s line found its mark. Picture it. The pelican writhing on the pier trying to free himself; the kid yelling proudly, “I caught him;” and old Mel running toward the pelican yelling at the kid “You stupid son-of-a b…!”

Never in my life have I called anyone “A stupid, son-of-a b…!” Never! I’m with Soulforce. We advocate nonviolence as the best solution to conflict. Calling that kid a “stupid son-of-a b…!” was an act of violence against him. And as you could predict, almost immediately my violence led to the threat of violent retaliation. A rather muscular 18 or 19-year-old rushed up to me, put his fist up to my face and yelled, “What did you call my cousin?’”

At that moment, I was feeling the kind of rage that I’ve not felt since my last visit to Rome to confront the holy terrorists in the Vatican who call LGBT people “intrinsically evil” and “objectively disordered.” My sympathetic nervous system kicked into flight or fight mode and I was about to punch the 18 or 19-year old when I heard myself say: “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said it…!’” Looking back it was a very wise decision. I’m 72. Need I say more? But my anger blinded me to reality. I wanted to hit someone, anyone and my anger surged further when the kid’s protector yelled, “Then apologize!”
I just stood there watching the pelican writhing on the pier. There was only way to end this confrontation and help free the bird. “OK, I’m sorry,” I said angrily. “Now let’s free the bird.”

Suddenly, the pelican freed himself, extended his wings and flew away. I don’t know if the kid’s thoughtless prank crippled the bird in some permanent way. I don’t know if the pelican will ever return to his pier to waddle after the fishermen and pose for the tourists. I just turned my back on the boys and walked away, fighting back my anger, wondering if I would ever again see that magnificent creature.

After about twenty steps I decided to return to the scene and yell at the kid “I’m calling the park ranger to report you.” Immediately I realized it was an angry, empty threat, another move towards violence and another step away from reconciliation. For twenty five years I’ve taught that the ultimate goal of nonviolence is reconciliation. Could I calm myself enough to practice reconciliation with this kid and his cousin?

I believed Jesus when he said “Love your enemy.” I believed Gandhi when he said “Your enemy was created by God as you were created and thus your enemy is your brother in need of reconciliation.” I believed Dr. King when he said, “Our primary responsibility in life to help create the ‘beloved community’ where we – all of us – can live together in peace (even with our enemies).”

The kid was ignorant. He did a stupid thing but he wasn’t “a son of a b…!” His Parent was my Parent. He is a member of the human family, my family. He is my brother, my son, my grandson. My first response taught him about anger. Now I had a second chance to teach him about love.

As I approached the boys, I smiled sheepishly and said, “I’m sorry I let my anger get the best of me but I need to tell you why. That pelican is the mascot of our pier. He’s practically a pet. And when I saw him trapped in your line I just lost it.” For a moment I was silent, looking directly at the kid. Then I said, “You did a stupid thing but you aren’t stupid. I’ll bet you never do something like that again.” He nodded quickly.
The older cousin stood staring at me unsure how to respond when I looked directly at him and said, “Have a great day. Hope you catch some fish.” Somehow those simple words disarmed us both.

By: Mel White | The News & Advance
Published: April 15, 2012 Updated: April 15, 2012 – 6:00 AM

On Palm Sunday, April 1, Gary Nixon and I celebrated 30 years together. Ten of those years have been spent in beautiful Lynchburg. In recent months, however, we’ve made the painful decision to sell our home and return to California.

On the surface, we are leaving Lynchburg to spend our final years close to our children and grandchildren, but just below the surface is our growing fear that gays and lesbians are no longer welcome in Virginia. It seems that even after his death, Jerry Falwell Sr.’s antigay rhetoric is winning the day.
We first visited Lynchburg in 1999 when 200 of our Soulforce friends and supporters spent an amazing weekend with 200 of Jerry’s staff and student leaders. Gay Christians came to Lynchburg from across the nation hoping to help him understand that “… the research is clear. Homosexuality is neither mental illness nor moral depravity. It is simply the way a minority of our population expresses human love and sexuality, (American Psychological Association).” That weekend, covered by 183 media crews, made headlines across the nation.

In spite of our visit, Jerry continued his unwarranted and untrue attacks against lesbian and gay Americans. So we moved to Hill City in 2001 and rented a four-room house directly across the street from the church on Thomas Road. We hoped that by our daily witness, he and his congregation would see that gay people do not have, as he claimed, “a godless, humanistic scheme for our nation — a plan which will destroy America’s traditional moral values”; and that we are not planning “the complete elimination of God and Christianity from American society.”
When The News & Advance announced our permanent move to Lynchburg, we thought our new neighbors might not be happy to see an “out” gay couple move into their neighborhood. Quite to the contrary, when protesters did gather on our sidewalk, several of our neighbors ignored the “God Hates Fags” signs, walked through the noisy, nasty crowd and welcomed us with buckets of fried chicken, deep dish apple pie and sweet tea. From that moment we have loved this town and its welcoming and affirming people.
I first met Jerry Falwell in 1986 when he hired me to ghostwrite his autobiography, “Strength for the Journey.” I liked him immediately. I even found myself defending him when he was attacked unfairly. On the night that Jerry died, Anderson Cooper and Larry King both asked me to appear on their programs to respond to the atheist intellectual, Christopher Hitchens, who described Jerry as “an ugly charlatan,” “a little toad,” “a giggling and sniggering huckster” and “an evil old man.”
That night I found myself on network television defending the man who called me a “pervert who abandoned his wife and children to join this deviant lifestyle.” In fact, my family and I have maintained a loving, committed relationship that was demonstrated clearly when my son, Mike, and I appeared on two seasons of CBS’ “The Amazing Race.”
Jerry never told the truth about me, but the night he died I had the opportunity to tell the truth about Jerry. He would be missed. He had been a good pastor to his congregation at Thomas Road and a good chancellor to his students at Liberty University. But I also expressed my grief that Jerry had died before he apologized to my sisters and brothers for his antigay rhetoric just as he had apologized for his racist rhetoric in the 1950s and ’60s.
During our first five years in Lynchburg I thought we were making a slight difference, that thousands of other gay and lesbian individuals and couples who lived in loving, committed relationships were changing Virginia’s political landscape.
I felt certain that organizations like Equality Virginia and Open and Affirming Churches like First Christian in Lynchburg were helping their fellow Virginians understand that lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender Virginians live healthy, happy and holy lives just like heterosexual Virginians.
Then on Nov. 7, 2006, 57 percent of Virginia’s voters ratified an amendment to the state Constitution that wasn’t content to limit marriage to one man and one woman. The amendment, sponsored by Del. Bob Marshall and Sen. Steve Newman, went on to prohibit the creation or legal recognition of any relationships of unmarried individuals “that even approximates the design, qualities, significance or effect of marriage.” Of all the states with constitutional amendments prohibiting marriage equality, Virginia became the most strident and mean-spirited.
More recently, the state Senate passed legislation allowing private adoption agencies to deny gay and lesbian couples the right to adopt (when 80,000 American children go un-adopted every year). And just weeks ago, both houses of the General Assembly approved “conscience clause” bills that would allow state-funded child placement agencies to discriminate against lesbian and gay couples who are willing and able to provide foster care as well.
The General Assembly may be the oldest legislative body in the Western Hemisphere, but in recent years it has certainly not been the wisest. Members of the Senate and the House of Delegates are still making laws based on the antigay rhetoric of Jerry Falwell. And like Jerry, our 23rd District senator, Steve Newman, and his colleagues refuse to consider the facts.
Census data shows that there are at least 270,000 American children being raised by same-sex couples: “Numerous studies over the last three decades consistently demonstrate that children raised by gay or lesbian parents exhibit the same level of emotional, cognitive, social, and sexual functioning as children raised by heterosexual parents, The American Psychiatric Association.”
When the Assembly makes laws that deny lesbian and gay Virginians the right to adopt or provide foster care they are denying hundreds, perhaps thousands of Virginia’s children, the right to home and family.
During our 10 years in Virginia, we’ve watched this great state turn against its gay and lesbian residents. Not only are we denied the rights and protections of marriage, our relationships are no longer safe here even when “protected” by wills or powers of attorney.
And when the General Assembly denies lesbians and gays the right to adopt or provide foster care, they are implying that we aren’t capable of being loving and trustworthy parents and even worse that we are a threat to children.
With a great deal of sadness and a real sense of failure, Gary and I are leaving this beautiful city and the wonderful new friends we’ve made here. We thought that in 10 years our witness would have helped in some small way to change Virginia for the better. In fact, it’s gotten worse. And though we are genuinely sad about leaving Lynchburg, it’s much easier to move knowing that members of the Assembly, the governor and a majority of the voters of Virginia have spoken. Gays and lesbians are not welcome here. What a loss that will be in professional, personal and financial resources for the people of Virginia.
I’m thankful that there are thousands of Virginians (native and transplants) who know that God created gay people and loves them exactly as they were created. One day, through their witness, truth will prevail. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
We are driving down Rivermont Avenue one last time, but the city is ablaze with the brilliant blossoms of red buds, dogwoods and cherry trees and even as we drive away from Lynchburg we are remembering that with the spring hope is always born again.