It’s been a while since I’ve had my sports hat on, still considering I spent about 15 years as a sports reporter and another 40 as an amateur official I thought I’d add my two cents to the sports conundrum we face in the wake of the Covid-19.

Today, sports are imperiled as never before. Professional leagues are grappling with their deep desire to return to some sense of normalcy – see dollar signs here – and with keeping the feeder lines that supply them with athletes open and healthy. But how can this be accomplished in the age of Covid-19?

Does anyone really believe, as Major League Baseball and the National Basketball Association have suggested, that they can test and secure their players, keeping them locked down between contests? I’ve seen the groupies massed outside of professional locker rooms, and while I’m sure their presence could be curtailed at the arenas, does anyone really believe those healthy young men who play the games will keep their hotel rooms firmly shut when those pretty girls come calling.

Note that I’m not being critical of the adult parties involved. I’m just pointing out the obvious. Curfews will be broken. Infection will spread. What then? If one player has the virus, will games be cancelled? Will whole teams be quarantined for weeks at a time? What happens to the season then?

Additionally, hundreds of thousands of tests will be needed to make sure athletes are healthy enough to compete. When you consider that average people have to jump through a multitude of hoops to get tested, is this really a good use of our healthcare resources?

Then there’s college sports. Fall athletes are now in the process of signing release forms, documents saying schools are not culpable should players contract Covid-19. This is a bad look for colleges that pretend to care about student-athletes. Athletic programs hold a great deal of sway over their young charges, so athletes will be coerced to “do it for the team” and will fall in line because that’s what they’re trained to do. Dissenters who struggle with playing during a pandemic will be labeled outcasts by their teammates and coaches and subsequently shunned. I doubt many will follow that route even if suiting up terrifies them.

And what of high school sports?  Currently, it’s football that gives me the most concern. I officiated on the gridiron for four decades, and from my vantage point as a referee I could see spit flying on almost every play, especially from the lineman who go head-to-head on every snap. No way to social distance there. And those big guys up front are often overweight, making them more susceptible to complications from Covid-19. Yet, many people, even the parents of these young men, are screaming for football to begin. One wonders what the reaction will be when the first kid dies.

Youth sport parents are probably a bit more reticent about letting their little ones play. I sense the number of participants at the youth level will continue to decline, a trend that has been happening over the last decade as children have become more entranced with video games than actual ones.

The kicker here is one most athletes, parents and coaches often don’t consider. If they set up a season’s worth of contests will there be enough officials to go around? After 40 years of wearing stripes, I can confidently say no one cares about us unless we’re not there at game time. Note that even prior to the pandemic games were being cancelled or played without the full complement of officials because there just aren’t enough arbiters. The officiating population is aging and young people are not stepping up in large enough numbers to fill the gap. On top of that, many of those that do are quitting after just a few years on the job citing the decay of sportsmanship as the main the reason. Statistics show the average age of an American sports official is 52, with many working well into their 60s. When you add the dangers of  Covid-19 into the mix, it’s likely many who blow whistles and call balls and strikes simply won’t return to the field.

What happens to your plans for a sports season then?

 

Wild Horses on the Salt

A woman flees an abusive husband

and finds hope in the wilds of the Arizona desert.

Published by Liaison – A Next Chapter Imprint

Order your copy here: http://mybook.to/wildhorsespb

Rebecca Quinn escapes her controlling husband and, with nowhere else to go, hops the red-eye to Arizona. There, Gaby Strand – her aunt’s college roommate – gives her shelter at the Salt River Inn, a 1930’s guesthouse located in the wildly beautiful Tonto National Forest.

Becca struggles with post-traumatic stress, but is enthralled by the splendor and fragility of the Sonoran Desert. The once aspiring artist meets Noah Tanner, a cattle rancher and beekeeper, Oscar Billingsley, a retired psychiatrist and avid birder, and a blacksmith named Walt. Thanks to her new friends and a small band of wild horses, Becca adjusts to life in the desert and rekindles her love of art.

Then, Becca’s husband tracks her down, forcing her to summon all her strength. But can she finally stop running away?

 

 

 

 

 

My thanks to book blogger Anu Menon for her kind words about my new novel Wild Horses on the Salt.

“Fast-paced, adventurous, and thoughtful story of the survival of Becca’s wounded soul. Her struggles, experiences, passions, fears, healing, and the truth of her chilly silence are wonderfully portrayed.” — Anu Menon

https://anoomk.wordpress.com/2020/06/25/book-review-wild-horses-on-the-salt-by-anne-montgomery/.

Wild Horses on the Salt

A woman flees an abusive husband

and finds hope in the wilds of the Arizona desert.

Published by Liaison – A Next Chapter Imprint

Order your copy here: http://mybook.to/wildhorsespb

Rebecca Quinn escapes her controlling husband and, with nowhere else to go, hops the red-eye to Arizona. There, Gaby Strand – her aunt’s college roommate – gives her shelter at the Salt River Inn, a 1930’s guesthouse located in the wildly beautiful Tonto National Forest.

Becca struggles with post-traumatic stress, but is enthralled by the splendor and fragility of the Sonoran Desert. The once aspiring artist meets Noah Tanner, a cattle rancher and beekeeper, Oscar Billingsley, a retired psychiatrist and avid birder, and a blacksmith named Walt. Thanks to her new friends and a small band of wild horses, Becca adjusts to life in the desert and rekindles her love of art.

Then, Becca’s husband tracks her down, forcing her to summon all her strength. But can she finally stop running away?

I decided to ignore Father’s Day this year.

My dad died a week shy of his 96^th birthday last June following a long and interesting life. He was a World War II Navy veteran, an industrial engineer, a fly fisherman, an ice dancer who in his later years turned to ballroom, and a lover of animals, wild places, baseball, and musical theater.

I miss him every day.

With Dad gone, I felt Father’s Day had no further meaning for me, but of course I was wrong. I can’t believe I didn’t see what was right in front of me.

I have written about my three sons before. All former students who spent time in the foster care system before calling me Mom. Young men today, all in their twenties, out in the world, discovering what they want to do and where they belong.

But let’s backtrack a little. My mom journey began with a phone call when I was 55. A former student contacted me, frightened and hungry, shortly after he’d wound up in foster care. I loudly complained to a fellow teacher. She stared me down. “If you’re so upset perhaps you should have him live with you,” she said.

I told her the idea was ridiculous, since I’d never had any children and didn’t know the first thing about being a mom. And still I made the call to Child Protective Services.

But here’s the thing. I neglected to explain my soon-to-be mom status to my partner, a man I’d been dating for almost two decades.

“Don’t you think you should have mentioned that you were bringing a child home?” Ryan asked, obviously troubled by the upcoming change in our lives.

In retrospect, the fact that I didn’t discuss the situation with him before I made the call seems absurd. My defense was that we lived in different houses, separated by a two-minute walk. I rationalized that the boy would be living in my home and I shouldn’t have to ask for permission.

Clearly, I’d missed the point. I failed to see that my opting into motherhood placed him squarely in the fatherhood department. I will admit here that while I waited for the 15-year-old to be ushered to my door, Ryan and I were at odds. I don’t think he could see himself as a dad, since like me he’d never had any biological children. As parents we were both complete rookies.

Under the circumstances, it’s funny that Ryan took to parenting more easily than I did. Even today, he sometimes has to remind me to say please when I ask one of the boys to do something or to back off a little when he thinks I’m too hard on them.  I defend myself saying that I want them to be happy, healthy, and successful, and since none of them came to me before becoming teenagers, I have to make up for lost time, so occasionally I must be stern.

Then he smiles and says, “Let it go. It’ll be fine.”

I should not be surprised that when the boys get themselves into some kind of pickle it’s Ryan they want to talk to. While it used to bother me, I have now accepted my role as bad cop and am grateful Ryan is here to talk me down whenever a boy-induced cliff presents itself.

While all good dads deserve a hearty Happy Father’s Day, I can’t help but feel that accidental fathers like Ryan – those who’ve chosen to raise other people’s children – deserve a few extra accolades.

So…here’s to you Ry and to all the foster dads out there. Happy Father’s Day!

 

 

Wild Horses on the Salt

A woman flees an abusive husband

and finds hope in the wilds of the Arizona desert.

Published by Liaison – A Next Chapter Imprint

Order your copy here: http://mybook.to/wildhorsespb

Rebecca Quinn escapes her controlling husband and, with nowhere else to go, hops the red-eye to Arizona. There, Gaby Strand – her aunt’s college roommate – gives her shelter at the Salt River Inn, a 1930’s guesthouse located in the wildly beautiful Tonto National Forest.

Becca struggles with post-traumatic stress, but is enthralled by the splendor and fragility of the Sonoran Desert. The once aspiring artist meets Noah Tanner, a cattle rancher and beekeeper, Oscar Billingsley, a retired psychiatrist and avid birder, and a blacksmith named Walt. Thanks to her new friends and a small band of wild horses, Becca adjusts to life in the desert and rekindles her love of art.

Then, Becca’s husband tracks her down, forcing her to summon all her strength. But can she finally stop running away?

 

 

My thanks to reviewer and author Anita Dawes for her kind words about my new novel Wild Horses on the Salt.

“The author’s brilliant world building soon had me relaxing and enjoying the desert, the wilderness with so many horses. This was the kind of story I knew I wouldn’t want to end.” Anita Dawes

Our Review for Wild Horses on the Salt by Anne Montgomery #Women’s Action & Adventure Fiction @amontgomery8

 

A woman flees an abusive husband

and finds hope in the wilds of the Arizona desert.

Published by Liaison – A Next Chapter Imprint

Order your copy here: http://mybook.to/wildhorsespb

Rebecca Quinn escapes her controlling husband and, with nowhere else to go, hops the red-eye to Arizona. There, Gaby Strand – her aunt’s college roommate – gives her shelter at the Salt River Inn, a 1930’s guesthouse located in the wildly beautiful Tonto National Forest.

Becca struggles with post-traumatic stress, but is enthralled by the splendor and fragility of the Sonoran Desert. The once aspiring artist meets Noah Tanner, a cattle rancher and beekeeper, Oscar Billingsley, a retired psychiatrist and avid birder, and a blacksmith named Walt. Thanks to her new friends and a small band of wild horses, Becca adjusts to life in the desert and rekindles her love of art.

Then, Becca’s husband tracks her down, forcing her to summon all her strength. But can she finally stop running away?

It’s a strange time to hold a book launch, quarantined as we are, stuck with the feeling that there is no safe place to go. How long will this isolation last? There’s simply no way to tell. We long for a signal, like the one Punxsutawney Phil delivers each year when the furry rodent surfaces from his den to tell us when winter will morph into spring.

Alas, there is no miraculous creature to mark the end of our confinement. Which brings me back to the book launch for my new novel, Wild Horses on the Salt. Normally, I would host a book signing and a Q&A session at some lovely bookstore – Don’t you love bookstores? – but, of course, that wouldn’t work considering our current situation.

With that in mind, I popped on my thinking cap, and decided we could have a book signing of sorts right here. So, let me get my magic wand.  I’ll be right back.

Dodeedodododeedo…

Whew! Found it. It was tucked in the back of a closet and it’s a bit dusty. But I think it’ll work. Let’s see.

Swoosh………………..

Oooo! Sparkles everywhere!

And now…here we are! Look at all those pretty books. You want to touch them, I know. And this bookstore – lucky us – also has a bar. What a brilliant idea. So, everyone get a beverage and then sit in those rows of chairs.

Oh my! We need more chairs. So many people! (A girl can dream.)

I take my place at the podium and lift the mic. Unlike a lot of authors – many of whom tend to be introverted types – I’ve never met a microphone I didn’t like. Could be my massive ego, but I digress.

“Thank you all for coming. I am overwhelmed.” I smile. “And now, I’d be happy to take your questions.

Hands shoot up all around the room and I blush. (Really.) “In the corner. Yes, you, sir.” A dapper-looking man with a gray beard smiles.

“What kind of books do you write?”

“Good question. I write fiction, though not in any specific genre. My stories are based on subjects that interest me. In the past, I’ve written about a former soldier suffering from post-traumatic stress, child abuse, polygamy, domestic terrorism, cults, archeological looting, the black-market sale of antiquities, and a serial rapist. In Wild Horses on the Salt, themes include the problems associated with the over population of wild horses in the West and the struggles involved in escaping from domestic violence. However, all my books have one thing in common: the amazing landscape of Arizona, from the Sonoran Desert to the Verde Valley to the high country of the Arizona strip.”

I spy a few younger members of the audience and am delighted, as a just-retired teacher, to see some of my former students. “Makayla.”

“Ms. Montgomery, what inspired you to write about the wild horses of Arizona’s Salt River?”

“You can call me Anne.”

Makayla and the rest of the kids look like I’ve asked them to serve detention for a week. I sigh and realize I will be Ms. Montgomery for the rest of my life.

“The horses that roam free along the Salt River have been the subject of much controversy in Arizona, primarily because their numbers have grown too large to be sustainable and they too frequently encounter vehicles, events that result in accidents that have killed the animals and injured humans. Though millions of wild horses once roamed free in the United States, today approximately 82,000 remain. Because their ancestors were brought here by European explorers, there are some who believe these animals are an invasive species, a creature that should be culled to safeguard native fauna, fragile grasslands, and riparian habitats. Others believe the wild horse should be defended, protected, and allowed to roam free. The debate is ongoing, with those on both sides of the issue often unwilling to compromise.”

I scan the room and focus on a young woman dressed in a turquoise T-shirt, jeans, and strappy sandals. I nod.

“The protagonist in Wild Horses on the Salt is running away from domestic violence. What made you write about the topic?”

“Thank you for asking. According to the National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey, nearly 1 in 4 adult women and approximately 1 in 7 men in the U.S. report having experienced severe physical violence from an intimate partner in their lifetime.

The often-silent scourge of domestic violence invades all walks of life and, though the poor are disproportionately affected, no one is immune. I felt it was important to point out that domestic violence does not discriminate. People of all kinds, young, old, rich, poor, white, black and brown are subjected to its wrath.

The life of Rebecca Quinn, the protagonist in Wild Horses on the Salt, seems idyllic from the outside. She’s a smart attorney with a handsome, successful spouse. She comes from wealth and privilege. And yet, Becca is repeatedly brutalized by her husband.

I created Becca from personal experience – I’ve been subjected to domestic violence myself – and from statistics. The point is no one should have to deal with this abuse and there is always a way out, though that does not mean leaving is easy. One needs support, both emotional and financial, to get away, as well as a plan to survive the split. It’s my hope that those reading about Becca’s journey will be inspired to make changes in their own lives.

I take more questions. Everyone is so interested in my book, I’m giddy with delight. Eventually, however, the manager of the book store taps her watch.

“Thank you so much for coming everyone. I will be signing books at that table in the corner.”

A long line of book buyers forms as I take my seat. When the last book is signed – of course, it’s a sellout – I have cramps in my hand, but it’s pain I will savor.

After everyone leaves, my sweetie pie appears with a glass of wine. “Thought you might need this,” he says, and I remember why I love him.

That said, the first person in the contiguous United States who contacts me will get a signed copy of Wild Horses on the Salt.

And, again, thank you for coming.

 

“Ms. Montgomery weaves an intricate parallel tale, portraying the struggles of one woman, and that of a lost wild stallion—both fighting to rise above the cruelty of an unkind world. Her unique writing style, incredible knowledge of her subject matter, combined with her ability to create vivid scenes of the East Valley, and particularly the Tonto National Forest and Salt River area in Arizona, takes the reader on a fascinating (and educational) journey.” —Author Margaret Millmore

Wild Horses on the Salt

A woman flees an abusive husband

and finds hope in the wilds of the Arizona desert.

Published by Liaison – A Next Chapter Imprint

Order your copy here: http://mybook.to/wildhorsespb

Rebecca Quinn escapes her controlling husband and, with nowhere else to go, hops the red-eye to Arizona. There, Gaby Strand – her aunt’s college roommate – gives her shelter at the Salt River Inn, a 1930’s guesthouse located in the wildly beautiful Tonto National Forest.

Becca struggles with post-traumatic stress, but is enthralled by the splendor and fragility of the Sonoran Desert. The once aspiring artist meets Noah Tanner, a cattle rancher and beekeeper, Oscar Billingsley, a retired psychiatrist and avid birder, and a blacksmith named Walt. Thanks to her new friends and a small band of wild horses, Becca adjusts to life in the desert and rekindles her love of art.

Then, Becca’s husband tracks her down, forcing her to summon all her strength. But can she finally stop running away?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Most of us have had a run in with the bees, times that left us with sting or two. My first memory of the stinging part came when I was sitting in some bushes in front of my house, concealing myself from a bunch of neighborhood kids playing hide and seek. I accidentally became that girl in the book, the one who kicked the hornet’s nest. (OK. I know hornets aren’t bees, but the idea is the same. Wee stinging creatures that attack when agitated.) In any case, those hornets surrounded me, then crawled into my clothes and all over my skin. I yelped and ran into the house, frantically trying to get them to stop stinging me, doing my own version of Riverdance in the process.

As this was in the 60s, no one seemed upset. No one said, “Maybe we should take her to the doctor, just in case,” despite the 17 or so stings I suffered. Back then kids just had to suck it up. The motto in my house was, “If it doesn’t bleed it doesn’t hurt.”.

I mention this event because I understand many people have a visceral reaction to bees and their stinging cousins. But we need to reconsider, because without bees and their brethren, we humans could die out.

Really. People could starve, because here in the U.S., honey bees alone pollinate $30 billion worth of crops every year. Bees, their fuzzy bodies laden with pollen, promote the growth of all sorts of plants that other creatures depend on, as well. Without the pollinating skills of bees, those plants will die out and the animals that depend on them will too, and then the dominos will fall.

Our planet, that’s now pushing eight billion residents, could face severe food shortages, if we don’t take care of our bee brothers and their insect cousins. To put it simply, if all the bees in the world suddenly disappeared, it’s estimated that our supermarkets would provide half the fruit and vegetables they do today, and while those in first-world countries might survive, those in third-world nations would suffer depleted food sources. I mention this because, while researching my new book Wild horses on the Salt, I learned about beekeeping and the good the little guys do. I also came to understand that many of the world’s insects – a group of creatures that don’t give folks the warm and fuzzies and that few people march to protect – are dying out at alarming rates.

I recall a day in the Arizona desert when a strange sound made me look into the sky. A dark cloud approached, moving swiftly above. A massive swarm of bees undulated, a twisting shadow of creatures looking for a new home. I’ll admit here, my heart raced at the sight. Still, I knew not to run and understood that the thousands of bees approaching could kill me. So, I crouched down in a gully and remained completely still. Then, they were above me, the buzzing like that of a helicopter. I held my breath and watched as they passed by in a huge, dark swirl, my heart pounding in my chest.

Despite my momentary fear that day, it’s my hope that we can begin to look at bees in a new light. Yes, they sting us, mostly when they feel threatened or to protect the hive. But when you consider all they do, it’s time for us to say thank you.

So, what can we do to make the world more hospitable to bees? First, farmers should try to leave some wild lands on the borders of their fields, areas with native flora that attract bees and other pollinating insects. We should think hard about using pesticides that injure bee colonies, like herbicides and fungicides and neonicotinoids, the latter of which leads to bee colony collapse disorder. Gardeners, if they want to help, can plant bee-attracting plants among their flowers and vegetables and go organic. Shoppers can buy from local producers, since small farms tend to engage in less destructive planting policies than large, commercial producers. And home owners can set up bee watering holes. The creatures work so hard at their jobs, they easily get dehydrated and need locations they can count on to get a drink when they need one.

Every little bit helps. And when you consider all they do for us, it makes sense to be a friend to the bees.

A woman flees an abusive husband

and finds hope in the wilds of the Arizona desert.

Published by Liaison – A Next Chapter Imprint

http://mybook.to/wildhorsespb

Rebecca Quinn escapes her controlling husband and, with nowhere else to go, hops the red-eye to Arizona. There, Gaby Strand – her aunt’s college roommate – gives her shelter at the Salt River Inn, a 1930’s guesthouse located in the wildly beautiful Tonto National Forest.

Becca struggles with post-traumatic stress, but is enthralled by the splendor and fragility of the Sonoran Desert. The once aspiring artist meets Noah Tanner, a cattle rancher and beekeeper, Oscar Billingsley, a retired psychiatrist and avid birder, and a blacksmith named Walt. Thanks to her new friends and a small band of wild horses, Becca adjusts to life in the desert and rekindles her love of art.

Then, Becca’s husband tracks her down, forcing her to summon all her strength. But can she finally stop running away?

“Ms. Montgomery weaves an intricate parallel tale, portraying the struggles of one woman, and that of a lost wild stallion—both fighting to rise above the cruelty of an unkind world. Her unique writing style, incredible knowledge of her subject matter, combined with her ability to create vivid scenes of the East Valley, and particularly the Tonto National Forest and Salt River area in Arizona, takes the reader on a fascinating (and educational) journey.” —Author Margaret Millmore