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How About Lunch Legislator Nelson?

If I could have lunch with one person in our community, I would ask county legislator Tom Nelson to meet me in Bemus Point at a lakeside restaurant of his choice.

Maybe over a burger and fries, I would tell him stories about growing up by the lake, describe the sound of boat engines in the early morning, the slap of screen doors, the laughter of cousins piling onto rafts. I’d ask him if the lake was a centerpiece of his childhood–his gathering place, his playground, and his family’s sanctuary.

I’d remind him that before there were permits, policies, or protected buffers, there were just families who loved this lake.

Then, I’d ask him–gently, but sincerely–why he supports the DEC’s expanded freshwater wetlands regulations, which now designate much of the shoreline as state-controlled wetland and place a 100-foot regulatory buffer around it. I’d ask him why he voted against the resolution that our own county legislature passed, urging the state to delay and reconsider these changes. That resolution didn’t seek to destroy environmental protection–it sought to balance it with local realities.

I’d ask him if he’s walked any lakefront properties lately. If he’s spoken to lakefront homeowners who may now need permits to replace a dock. Because while Albany and the DEC may see this as a scientific policy, many see it as a blow.

What we need is a more collaborative approach. We need state regulations that support rather than suppress local initiatives. We need elected officials to listen–not just to the DEC, but to the people who’ve called this place home for generations.

I find it telling that so few people are discussing the larger agenda at play. For decades now, both local and federal governments have shown an increasing interest in controlling water–quietly but persistently tightening their grip on water rights. It’s no secret to anyone paying attention. Farmers across the country have already felt the squeeze, with some being told they can’t use the water from ponds on their own land to irrigate their crops.

And it doesn’t stop with farmland. In several states, even collecting rainwater has certain restrictions. Imagine being told that the rain falling on your own roof doesn’t belong to you. That you need permission–or could face fines–for storing what nature freely provides. The message is clear: the control of water, in all its forms, is being consolidated–and not in the hands of everyday people.

Does this concern Mr. Nelson?

Nelson says he’s passionate about the environment, but so is everyone who lives on the lake. Perhaps the difference between him and them is that they believe in environmental stewardship that includes the people who actually live here. Loving the environment doesn’t mean handing control over to distant agencies–it means working with the land, not just regulating it from afar.

In fact, I’d argue that the most passionate environmentalists in this region are the ones who walk the shoreline every morning, who notice the slightest changes in the water or when the fish don’t bite. They’re the ones who organize outreach, who pay for dredging and weed control, who write checks to lake associations and show up at public meetings. They don’t just talk about the lake–they live it. So when sweeping state regulations treat us like obstacles instead of allies, it’s not just frustrating–it’s insulting. It sends the message that our years of hands-on stewardship somehow don’t count. That passion only matters when it comes with a state badge or a government title.

But environmentalism shouldn’t be something imposed on a community from the top down. It should rise up from the people who know the land best. If you truly care about the environment, Mr. Nelson, you should start by listening to the people most connected to it.

“I feel that calling on the DEC to reverse the proposed regulations tips the balance away from the essential goal of protecting New York’s environment in favor of economic development,” Nelson said in a county legislature meeting in April.

Framing this as a choice between environmental protection and economic development is not only misleading–it’s very simplistic. The truth is, we can–and must–have both. Real environmental stewardship doesn’t come at the expense of the communities most invested in the land; it works in partnership with them. The families, homeowners, and local organizations around Chautauqua Lake have been invested in this ecosystem for generations–not for profit, but out of love, duty, and direct connection. To suggest that calling for balance is somehow anti-environment is to ignore the very people who’ve been doing the work long before Albany–or Mr. Nelson–joined the conversation.

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