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Protecting Our Children

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While my Haunting Danielle series is a mystery murder, it also falls into the cozy genre, which means gore is kept to a minimum, and the people getting wacked are generally the bad guys.

However, if someone nice is killed off, there is comfort in knowing that character isn’t gone forever. After all, the Haunting Danielle books also fall into the paranormal category—which means ghosts.

I have to tread carefully in what types of crimes are committed in the series. In The Ghost Who Wasn’t, Sadie is kidnapped by dognappers, whose evil intent is to use her as a bait dog. Even though she was rescued within hours, the bad guys arrested, and the dog fighting ring busted—just mentioning such a crime alienated some readers. One even posted in a review that she would never again read one of my books.

As an avid animal lover, I understand the reader’s dismay. Perhaps I did cross the line. Yet, sometimes we create worlds we’d like to live in—and the world I would like to live in is one where we could easily shut down such atrocities.

Just as my readers don’t want to imagine anything truly evil happening to canine Sadie or feline Max, they probably don’t want any child characters abused. It’s one thing to write about Darlene getting her head bashed in and tossed over a cliff—after all, she wasn’t that nice—but if I did the same to a toddler throwing a tantrum, I imagine my readers would jump ship, even if I resurrected the naughty child as a ghost.

This brings me to children in general—and our real life responsibilities toward them. If you’ve read The Ghost Who Loved Diamonds, you’ll know Danielle isn’t a big fan of children’s beauty pageants. I’ll tell you a secret, neither am I. Although, I imagine you already figured that out.

I have some friends, who are very nice people and who love their children, yet put their little ones in pageants. Personally, I’ve a problem with beauty contests. For one thing, I question how wise it is to put so much emphasis on a person’s physical attributes. The second reason, I’m not crazy with the idea of parading young children in front of strangers.

That might seem hypocritical since both of my children performed in the community theatre when we lived in Wrightwood. Our son, who was about ten at the time, starred as Winthrop, in The Music Man, and his younger sister was in the chorus of the same play. Yet, it didn’t have the same feel to me. I wasn’t parading them out to be individually examined by strangers, as in a pageant. Maybe I’m wrong, but it’s just how I feel.

I also don’t believe we own our children. I feel they’re given to us, and it’s our responsibility to protect, nurture, and prepare those children to be responsible, independent adults.

This brings me to a recent Twitter encounter I had.

I’ve been following an Oregon news story involving the takeover of a bird refuge and the subsequent arrest of those involved. There have been some minor protests in Portland, in support of those who have been arrested. One Twitter follower from the Portland area has decided to record the protest, while taking his own stand against what he sees as seditious activity. In his counter protest, he has been heckled by the protestors, his signs destroyed, and basically called a pedophile—a slander that followed him onto Twitter.

Why do they feel justified hurling this particular bucket of mud? Because he has photographed the protest, posted the pictures online, and some of those photographs included minors.

One might say, “Oh, he should never post a picture of a minor!” but I’d like you to step back a moment, and ask who in this scenario is truly exploiting the children.

For us to step back—we need to move back a couple years, to the Bundy Ranch stand off in Nevada. Same family, different brouhaha. There, father Cliven Bundy refused to pay his grazing fees, and after a couple decades of non-payment the Feds moved in, threatening to remove said cattle. Cliven rounded up his militia buddies and held off the Feds with threat of blood shed.

This is where I get to the kids.

One of the prominent members of the group admitted they had considered using the women and children as shields—that way if the Feds started shooting—well you get it. It would make the Feds look evil. I ask you—who is the evil one to even consider such a thing? The women are adults, and while that’s a chicken *hit thing for any spouse to consider, regardless of gender—what kind of monster even imagines using his—or any—child in such a way?

Now we fast forward to the Oregon takeover—where some of the participating militia members brought their children along—and allowed other people to visit with children. At that point, the takeover was a crime scene. What responsible parent takes a child to an active crime scene, especially one with lots of loaded guns?

Fast forward again, to the protest in Portland. Sure, it is all legal and not a crime. But if you take a child to a public protest, there is no expectation of privacy. None. Someone will be taking your kid’s picture. Either someone from the news, a blogger, a Twitter follower, or just some curious bystander. Just about everyone carries a camera via a phone these days, and it takes just seconds to upload that image to Twitter, Facebook, or any other social media venue.

So when the Oregon protestors started yelling at this counter protestor, calling him a pervert for taking pictures of kids—pictures they KNEW someone would be taking—I have to ask, who is the one truly exploiting the kids?

Personally, I see it as another example of parents exploiting their own children—shoving them into some imagined victim role to slam some guy who obviously is not there to take kiddy shots, but to record their protest.

When I defended this counter protestor on Twitter—because I honestly don’t believe he has the remotest interest in any of the protestors’ children—aside from their involvement in an active news story—one of their supporters asked me, “wtf wrong w/ u?”

Frankly, I’d have to say: same question back atcha.

(Photo: Someone snapping a photo of your child at a public place, such as an amusement park, is inappropriate, IMO. Yet, if your child participates in a public news worthy event, such as in a parade, at a political rally, or protest rally, IMO you’ve no right to cry foul.)

Why I believe the Bundys’ fight is the wrong one.

Havasu PalmsOur personal experiences shape how we perceive news events. Pet peeves we have are often the result of those experiences, which is why I’ve no sympathy for rancher Cliven Bundy’s imagined cause.

If you can make it through the first half of this article, you’ll come to where I’ll explain why I feel our family had a legitimate gripe against the Department of Interior—suffered real financial losses—and yet, I don’t for a moment  support either Bundy cause—and I don’t believe they have a tangible grievance.

Unless you’ve been following the recent news story of the takeover of the Oregon’s Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, and of the subsequent arrests of the armed protesters, you may not remember the case of Cliven Bundy—the father of the group’s leaders—who some say set this news story in motion when he and his armed supporters kept agents of the federal government from confiscating his cattle back in 2014, at his Nevada ranch.

Why did the government want Cliven Bundy’s cattle? Well, cattle ranchers who haven’t enough of their own land to graze their cattle will pay grazing fees to use land belonging to someone else. Grazing fees on Federal land is considerably lower, compared to what ranchers pay to graze on private land. Yet, Bundy decided he didn’t want to pay his fees, and for some twenty years, he grazed his cattle on public lands, without compensating taxpayers and without adhering to environmental restrictions put in place to protect the land from overgrazing.

When the government finally tried to put a stop to his illegal use of public land, Cliven rounded up his armed militia friends and convinced the federal agencies—who didn’t want a blood bath—to back down. This didn’t mean the Feds had given up—they were just regrouping.

Cliven Bundy’s day of retribution has finally come—because he is now behind bars, facing a slew of charges, along with four of his sons, and dozens of his supporters—some facing charges for the 2014 Bundy Ranch incident, some for the Oregon’s Malheur National Wildlife Refuge takeover, and some for both.

In Oregon, the armed protesters initially demanded the immediate release of the Hammonds, two ranchers who were convicted of arson and required to return to prison to serve out their term. Supporters of their cause call it double jeopardy, yet that’s an inaccurate summation. The Hammonds weren’t tried twice for the same crime. It was instead some snafu, where one court allowed an early release and another cried foul. Were the Hammonds unjustly treated? Perhaps, but even the Hammonds didn’t support the armed takeover.

After the Hammonds quietly returned to prison, and failed to give support to the Oregon takeover, the Bundy’s cause shifted to a demand for the federal government to turn over the federal lands to the state.

That’s a rough summation of the events that led to the current situation, which is the arrest of dozens of their supporters, the death of one of them, and sympathizers moaning about the abuses the Bundy family has endured. This is where I cry bullshit.

If you want to feel outrage over abuses of the federal government, I don’t think the cause is a rancher who refused to pay grazing fees—fees much lower than he would have paid on private land.

I’ve written Havasu Palms, A Hostile Takeover to tell people what happened to our family. In this post, I’ll briefly touch on what happened to us.

Our family leased land from the federal government back in 1967 to develop a resort on Lake Havasu.  The name of our corporation was Havasu Palms. My parents owned 51 percent, and they were the general managers, and my father, a general contractor, was the guy in the trenches, getting the work done—along with the help of mom, and throughout the years, me, my sister, and later, our spouses.

The original lease with the government guaranteed that at the end of the lease Havasu Palms would be financially compensated for any improvements made—or allowed to remove the improvement. The lease stipulated that that would be applicable to any subsequent lease. Sounds good, right?

We ended up building a new marina, restaurant, new store, and 131 space mobile home park. What we didn’t plan on, the feds added the lease land to the nearby Chemehuevi Indian Reservation, and our next lease was with the tribe—which didn’t allow for any compensation for improvements.

In the end, we lost everything—even private property, like my husband’s fork lift, a mobile home, a store full of inventory—and a water ski my sister is still bitching about.

Our lease with the tribe had an arbitration provision, which we took. We won the arbitration, but a federal judge later set aside the judgment, saying it was not in the best interest of the tribe.

That is actually just a snippet of what happened over the course of time—and if you are interested you can read the book, it’s available in paperback and eBook.

At the time our family lost Havasu Palms, my husband and I were its general managers. Mother was a widow by that time, and she foolishly spent all of her money attempting to recoup some of her losses through the courts.  She lost everything—as we eventually did. It was a domino effect.

We suffered through rough, financially challenging years. Friends often ask us, how did you do it? Yet, never once—not once—did we consider taking up arms and threatening government employees. For one reason, the situation was—is—complicated, and I don’t believe the solution for this particular issue is armed insurgence. There are causes I would give my life for; this is not one of them.

Today—life is good. Those rough times got us to where we are today. Mom is 88 and lives with us. While her financial situation never improved after losing everything back then, she still has us, and we have managed to financially rebuild our lives. We live in a home I love, are blessed with an amazing family, and I’m doing what I always dreamed—I’m an author and actually making a good living doing it.

When I think of Cliven Bundy, throwing it all away because he thought it his right to graze his cows for free—I have to shake my head. I don’t get it. Our time here is short. Family is precious. And life is not always fair. But like Job, sometimes we have to deal with it and move forward.

Choose your battles carefully, because, as LaVoy Finicum discovered, sometimes they can kill you.

(Photo: Havasu Palms, California)