By Maurice Johannessen and Brian Dahle The veterans of the post-9/11 era have endured the strain of serial deployments to treacherous combat zones with blurry lines between friend and enemy, civilian and soldier. That is difficult enough. For all too many young veterans, though, the challenges of wartime service don't end when their time in uniform is over. Instead, peacetime's respite brings new struggles -- with joblessness, with hopelessness. Military service teaches discipline, leadership and practical skills, and that shows in the job market. Overall, veterans are more likely to be employed than the general population. Sadly, though, that is not the case for the youngest veterans.Those who've served since 2001 faced an unemployment rate of 9 percent last year, compared with 7 percent for the broader workforce, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. For veterans under 25, who might have served an enlistment term and are readjusting to life in the civilian world during recent years' rocky economy, the jobless rate was grim -- more than 21 percent. Today's young veterans are also coming home with more disabilities, compared with prior generations. A full 29 percent of veterans who have served since 2001 report a service-related disability, twice the share of veterans overall. These high rates of unemployment and disability, in the direst cases, can lead to despair. Some 22 veterans a day commit suicide, the Department of Veterans Affairs reports, and the suicide rate for male veterans under 30 is a full three times that of their counterparts who didn't serve. They survived the hazards of war, but tragically lose their way when they return home. It's a shocking tragedy, and we need to do better by these men and women who've done so much for us. Most veterans services are funded and managed by the federal government, but a critical link in California is the county veterans service office. Typically operating on tiny budgets with staffs to match, these local offices do the immensely important work of helping veterans and their families navigate the bureaucracies involved in medical care, pensions, college benefits and other services. The value to the veterans is obvious, and we help them because it's the least we can do in return for their service. But doing the right thing also has financial benefits. For every dollar the state has spent in helping veterans collect the benefits they've earned, nearly $100 in federal benefits have flowed back to California. In Texas, the state employs roughly twice as many service officers per veteran as California, and in turn substantially more of its veterans collect the federal benefits they are due. Despite the clear financial payoff, the state has long been stingy in funding county veterans service offices. Legislation being considered this year, Assembly Bill 2703, would change that. AB 2703 would more than double the money available through the state Department of Veterans Affairs, with extra incentives available for the programs that are especially innovative in their outreach or simply provide the best service. Budget discipline in Sacramento is important, but it is a false economy to shortchange programs with a demonstrated financial benefit. In any case, this isn't about accounting for dollars. It's about the moral debt we owe to those who put their lives in danger. It's time to stop the excuses and do everything we can to keep our promises to veterans -- and to stop burying those who survived war because we didn't do enough to help them face the challenges of peacetime. Senator Maurice Johannessen (retired) represented Northern California and served as Secretary of the California Department of Veterans Affairs. Assemblyman Brian Dahle, R-Bieber, represents the 1st Assembly District in the California Legislature, which includes Shasta, Lassen, Nevada, Siskiyou, Modoc, Plumas, and Sierra Counties, and portions of Butte and Placer Counties.

I did not come to Sacramento to tell people what to do.California has too many costly regulations -- especially on small businesses -- and streamlining the bureaucracy that hobbles our state is one of my top priorities. If I see an opportunity to make life simpler for a family business, and especially a family farmer, I'll grab it almost every time.But when we change laws -- even if we're relaxing them -- we need to make sure the end result is fair to everyone involved and strikes a sensible balance between the public interest and the private burden. A recent bill, AB 2505, that would have allowed small home dairies to legally sell raw milk didn't pass those tests.Unpasteurized milk has surged in popularity the past few years. Its fans admire its rich flavor and claim to enjoy dramatic nutritional benefit.But the science is clear about one thing: Pasteurization kills bacteria and other pathogens -- Salmonella, E. Coli, Listeria -- that can cause wicked illnesses and even death. Raw milk is a high-risk product. Seventeen states ban its sale for human consumption entirely. The Food and Drug Administration long ago halted interstate sales of raw milk. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report that foodborne illness is 150 times more likely when consuming unpasteurized milk. The American Academy of Pediatrics early this year strongly recommended that pregnant women, infants and children never drink raw milk.No, the experts from the government and the medical establishment aren't always right. They don't always know everything, and they don't get to make all of our decisions for us anyway. But those risks are serious and real, and it's appropriate for the law to take them into account. The Legislature recently eased regulations on the sale of "cottage foods" -- breads, jams, candies and the like -- to allow more entrepreneurs to launch businesses out of their home kitchens, but that law specifically targeted foods that pose little risk. We want to encourage start-ups, not stomach bugs.Compared with strawberry jelly, milk, even when pasteurized, is prone to spoilage and bacterial contamination. Because of the hazards, dairies are rigorously inspected by the California Department of Food and Agriculture so families can confidently buy a gallon of milk without worrying about whether they'll land in the hospital. Unlike most states, California also allows retail sales of raw milk -- your neighborhood health food store probably carries it -- so long as the dairies follow similar safety rules.The recent raw milk bill, unfortunately, would not have included those safeguards. It would allow sales without inspections and without the fees that support the milk-safety program, which would leave producers who've been playing by the rules at an unfair disadvantage. Proponents argue that small home dairies -- at most three cows or 15 goats -- don't have the same risk as big commercial operations. I understand that these small herds produce milk for their owners' own families, and that their owners care deeply for the animals' health. But that devotion, as reassuring as it is, is not a laboratory test. And the heightened risks of raw milk are substantial enough that, if it's being sold to the public, the public needs reasonable protections. You might think a cow or a jug of milk looks perfectly healthy, but dangerous micro-organisms don't always advertise their presence.What people choose to eat and drink is their own business. But it's important to have a level playing field for producers and basic safety assurances for our food supply. I am more than open to exploring ways to make life easier for micro-dairies and the milk buyers who love them, but it won't help anyone -- including raw-milk producers -- if we put more unwitting consumers in the hospital.Brian Dahle, R-Bieber, represents the 1st Assembly District, which includes Shasta, Lassen, Nevada, Siskiyou, Modoc, Plumas, and Sierra Counties, and portions of Butte and Placer Counties.

The coyote is a clever, resourceful animal whose territory covers almost every square mile of California.It is also a serious predator that hunts backyard hens, cats and small dogs, as well as commercial poultry, lambs and calves. Oh, and now and then they get a hankering for small children. That's not just scare-mongering. Last summer in Orange County, while a family was paying respects to a late relative at the Forest Lawn cemetery in Cypress, their 2-year-old girl was attacked by a coyote. Quick-acting family members fought back and saved the girl, who has recovered from her wounds, but similar attacks have become common enough that Southern California wildlife authorities advise against allowing young children to play unattended, even in securely fenced backyards. A six-foot fence is a trivial obstacle to a hungry coyote.Some say living with predators is part of the deal when we move into their territory, this particular attack took place not on the exurban fringe, but in one of the densest parts of Orange County. Coyotes are notoriously wary of people, so why have they crowded into Southern California? Partly because of the free meals. Trash cans, compost piles, pet food, backyard fruit trees -- and all those dogs and cats -- provide ready calories.At the same time, coyotes have increasingly lost their fear of humans for the simple reason that in many areas, we no longer haze and harass them. To be blunt, in urban areas, ranchers don't shoot at them. It sounds cold-blooded, but it's true: Hunting coyotes keeps them safely wary of humans -- and keeps them wild. They can prey on squirrels and rabbits, an important natural role, without putting preschoolers at risk on the backyard swing set while mom fixes lunch. And, for ranchers, limiting coyote predation is critical to earning a living while putting wholesome food on American tables. Recent years have brought surging consumer demand for meat that is humanely raised on open pastures -- as opposed to feedlot beef and chickens that never see sunlight -- but the harsh fact is that more natural conditions mean more exposure to natural predators, especially coyotes. Ranchers have to control them to stay in business.The long-running annual Coyote Drive in Adin, in remote Modoc County, has become a target of criticism from animal-rights activists and coyote admirers. They're pushing for severe limits on coyote hunts -- as extreme as requiring a permit to shoot a nuisance coyote, at a minimum barring contests like the Coyote Drive, which offers a prize for the hunters who take the most animals in a weekend. The California Fish and Game Commission will take up the issue at its April 16 meeting in Ventura.This event isn't to everyone's taste in 21st-century California. That much is obvious. But critics' overblown rhetoric has little to do with reality.They call it the wholesale slaughter. It's nothing of the sort. In 2013, 90 two-person teams shot 42 coyotes. In other words, the typical participant spent a weekend tramping around the backcountry of northeastern California and shot nothing. The animal-rights activists propose banning any prize for predator-hunting contests, but nobody is being bribed into going hunting. A belt buckle or rifle for the hunter skilled or lucky enough to win is a memento -- no different from a soccer tournament trophy or medal for winning your age bracket at the weekend 10K. No, hunters participate as a community service -- to control the coyote population -- and for the challenge of pursuing a wily and elusive target.What's more, hunting restrictions should be based on the principles of wildlife management, and coyotes are abundant, with a statewide population estimated at half a million. The species is at no risk whatsoever.Modoc County's method of managing coyotes surely seems like a throwback to many. It wouldn't work in urban Southern California, where crowds leave little room for hunters. But it works in the state's remote northeast. It keeps coyotes wild instead of letting them take up residence in our back yards. Banning the hunt would be an act based on sentimentality, not the science that should drive the decisions of the Fish and Wildlife Commission. Assemblyman Brian Dahle, R-Bieber, represents California's 1st Assembly District.