Patriot's Day, April 17, 2017 in Medford Square in the old graveyard dating back to the Revolutionary War. City leaders gathered to honor the forbears who were buried there and Girl Scouts put a flag at the grave of a fallen patriot. Medford High School band played patriotic songs
and taps which is always very moving in a setting like this. We were literally standing on the graves of the brave people who founded Medford and fought for our freedom. Mayor Stephanie Burke officiated and introduced the City Councilors and Rev. Wendy Miller Olapade of Sanctuary Congregational Church gave the benediction. To our great consternation Allah was named before Yahweh and Jehovah also mentioned but Jesus Christ was not. Did not our forbears come here for the most part bringing the light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ yet he is forgotten here which denies his first Commandment which is to Have NO Other Gods Before Him.
No wonder the potholes and potheads are out of control in Medford!
Here is some very fascinating history of the Congregational Church which Rev. Wendy now leads.
https://apps.bostonglobe.com/graphics/2016/05/sanctuary/

                                           Patriot's Day Celebration in Medford Square

After the ceremony we all followed the band down Salem St. through the Square to the Gaffey Funeral Home which was once a tavern that Paul Revere rode by alerting the Minutemen that the British were coming.

It was a grand procession as the police held traffic at bay while we took to the street behind the marching band. There was a color guard performing, a balloon artist and free donuts from Dunkins as we waited for Paul Revere. I overheard  Mayor Burke telling a visitor from Europe that the rider was running late as he had to come all the way from the North End and it would be another hour until his arrival. Since my husband's back was getting sore we decided to go home where I switched on the TV in time to see the elite runners coming nearing the finish line.  We have watched the Marathon from various angles, most often in Wellesley where my brother lives often hosted a barbecue that day, but this day it was more desirable to go the Medford observance.

At noon I raced back sans hubby to see Paul Revere. I boogied for downtown Medford which was closed off so I went up Forest over Hall and down Governors Ave where I found a parking spot. I saw a man coming up the hill from the Square with two little girls. I asked if I had missed Paul Revere and the sweet man, an immigrant, did not know what I was talking about but he did see a horse down the street. Darn, I wished I had time to fill them in on what all the falderlall was about. I hoofed it dawn the street and just then I saw the man on a chestnut horse resplendent in a green colonial jacket calling out something. I can only imagine it was something about the British coming. He was closely followed by a man on a dappled gray horse and a horse trailer where they probably had spare horses a bystander suggested.

Riding through present-day Somerville, Medford, and Arlington, Revere warned patriots along his route, many of whom set out on horseback to deliver warnings of their own. By the end of the night there were probably as many as 40 riders throughout Middlesex County carrying the news of the army's advance. Revere did not shout the phrase later attributed to him ("The British are coming!"): his mission depended on secrecy, the countryside was filled with British army patrols, and most of the Massachusetts colonists (who were predominantly English in ethnic origin)^[44] still considered themselves British.^[45][46] Revere's warning, according to eyewitness accounts of the ride and Revere's own descriptions, was "The Regulars are coming out."^[47] Revere arrived in Lexington around midnight, with Dawes arriving about a half-hour later. They met with Samuel Adams and John Hancock, who were spending the night with Hancock's relatives (in what is now called the Hancock–Clarke House), and they spent a great deal of time discussing plans of action upon receiving the news. Wikipedia

I asked the man on the corner if  Paul Revere had stayed or just went barreling through. Oh yes, Bob said, He stayed for a little while and just as he was about to charge off an emergency vehicle carrying the mayor pulled out in front because she wanted to lead Revere on his ride. I wish I had that on video. Fortunately the horse had more sense and did not spook but it was a near collision which is par for the course in Medford as the city navigates the twenty-first century.

http://www.nationallancers.org/images/revere4thleg.jpg">

Red dot on the far right is where we waited for Paul Revere to re-enact his ride 242 years ago.

These are pictures I took the other day when it was 80 plus degrees and I saw some interesting sights around my hood in Medford. It was once and Irish-Italian enclave but in the last 50 years many immigrants have settled here and something like 19 languages are spoken. There is a Buddhist compound on Washington St which the Dali Lama visited a few years ago. There is an old condemned house on Otis Street frozen in time. Just up the block children play in the nursery school yard belonging to the Methodist Church.
I met with the President of the City Council for coffee at Dempsy's in Haynes Square.  I am quite sure I do not want Medford to have pot shops and I don't want it to become a Sanctuary City like Somerville next door. Bull dog lady is on the streets. I attended two Public Hearings on Pot Shops and learned a lot. More on that later. I am pausing for a reflection on Easter because it is upon us.
I have written a memoir of my childhood Easter in Revere MA when I was 3 years old approximately.

The Easter Bunny is a Jack-a-lope

As I lay in bed feverish and about to fall asleep I saw him from behind as he jumped over the backyard fence, his white cotton tail reflecting moonlight. Is this where the term ‘mooning’ came from? He was small, brown with big bunny ears tilted back for speed. He carried no Easter baskets for other children. He must have brought mine and two for my older brothers. I suppose he was headed back to his stash to cover the rest of the neighborhood. Like Santa Claus he had a lot of ground to cover before dawn.

 I did not check to see if my Easter basket was delivered outside my bedroom door because I had one foot in dreamland and being sick with chicken pox I had no appetite for candy anyway.

We lived in Revere in a two-family house across from a fire station. There was an upright piano that came with the apartment which my mom painted chartreuse, her favorite color. I was told there was no room for a horse in the back yard despite my continual pleading. We lived in this house a block from a private beach within walking distance to my grandparent’s house and the small Catholic church we attended. It was a comfortable community with a fair amount of Jews which established my preference for Bulkie Rolls which were called Kaiser Rolls in other places.

Point of Pines did not have a lot of pine trees. They must have cut them all down to build houses. On the other side of the Lynnway lived Nanny and Papa in a small cape that looked just like all the other houses in what some called the “Cardboard Village” because it was quickly built to accommodate all the GI’s coming home form WWII which my grandparents somehow qualified for due to Papa’s stint in the Navy long before the war. I heard they paid something like $3K for the house, that wouldn’t even make a down payment today. They loved living only a block from the water and made friends with all their neighbors and took in stray cats, making sure all the pets that got killed crossing the Lynnway had a proper burial in their yard.

It was April 1950 and chicken pox was in bloom and I was quarantined in my bedroom by the doctor who made house calls.

My mom was pregnant with my sister Valerie. Mom was enjoying having a little girl after two boys and bought me a special coat outfit for Easter. It must have been a chilly April because it was made of sea green wool with matching leggings and bonnet. It was not what you would typically think of for Easter but being only three, I was thrilled to have a special outfit which was probably picked up by Nana who worked at Filene’s in Boston. My new outfit hung on a hanger from the curtain rod over the window which had the shade pulled all day to prevent the light from hurting my eyes which I guess could get pox on them judging by all the time I spent in a darkened room lonely and bored with no one to play with. Maybe that’s why the Saturday night before Easter, I lifted the shade and saw a bunny hopping over the back fence and out of sight.

Sickness was a time when my Mom was an extra good mom. She knew I was sad to be missing the family activities and unable to even try on a scratchy wool outfit. The solid fudge egg from Fanny Farmer’s decorated with pastel flowers and leaves sat in its box. A white porcelain diaper pail was positioned next to my bed in case I got sicker.

Forty Aprils later, I was a mother myself with three sons all taking turns with Chicken pox. First the 8 year-old gets a mild case, number two son gets a much worse case followed by the baby who got it the worst, but at least he felt like one of the gang and we all got through it somehow over the five long weeks. I documented it all taking pix of them in their Underoos holding little slate that said Chicken Pox 1989.

No Easter baskets have ever been delivered to our kids much as I miss the solid fudge egg and the fuzzy little chicks that decorated my basket. Even though I saw Mr. Easter Bunny with my own eyes I realize now it was probably a dream.

Today I realize this cultural concoction is more of a Jack-o-lope; a patching together of Pagan and Christian religions. Have you ever seen a Jack-o-lope driving through western states where they have them stuffed for display in gas stations and depicted on post cards? They’re a cross between a Jack rabbit and an antelope with antlers.

 Since the Chicken Pox Vaccine became a routine since 1995 fewer kids get them. Now we have other things to worry about. Are the vaccines causing autism, ADHD or the many other diseases and disorders that are on the rise? Should we be more discriminating about what Mr Jack-a-lope delivers? Maybe we should just say ‘no’ to Mr. Jack-o-lope and all the sugar he brings setting kids up for obesity, diabetes and tooth decay.

(I am working on chapter 2 of this topic for our Marriage and Family in the End Times Book)

Chris Noonan Funnell April 11, 2014 

 

 Green Snowflakes: The Millennial’s Guide to being Irish

It has come to my attention as a descendant of Irish royalty (on my O’Leary side) and as a self-proclaimed IAP (Irish-American Princess) that all is not well in Irish America.

Firstly, it is the total loss of understanding of the message St. Patrick brought to the Gaels in the 5^th century, the reason why we have a day called St. Patrick’s Day. Patrick died on March 17th in 461AD at the age of 121. This date became a celebration of the miraculous deliverance of the Irish from paganism and the joy of being Irish once you stop banging your head against a wall.

Patricius was born in what is now England to a noble family but as luck would have it was abducted by Irish marauders who took him and his friends back to Ireland where he was enslaved for six years as a shepherd and swineherd. He longed for home and did some serious prayer and repentance for his wayward youth as he gazed up at the stars. Miraculously he was shown in a dream how to escape and make his way back home where he became a monk. He wrote in his memoir that he had a subsequent dream in which the Irish people begged him to return to free them from idolatry.

He was granted permission to go as a missionary with a small team and because of his years of slavery he had an deep understanding of the people and knew just what it took to reach a people steeped in magic who worshiped nature. They enshrined all of nature, the sun, trees, rocks and even snakes which had become a plague. Patrick is credited with ridding the Island of snakes as well as performing many other signs and wonders.

Today the story of St. Patrick’s nearly single-handed conversion of the Irish race is treated as entertainment somewhat like the legend of Hercules or Darth Vader.

The worst of it is that some are saying the holiday is really about celebrating the military victory when Boston saw the last of the English on Evacuation Day which also happened to fall upon March 17th in 1776.  State employees now consider the day a rite of spring to enjoy a paid holiday, drink heavily and wear green beads. They hold parades that would put St. Patrick in high dudgeon were he here now.

It is a difficult question W.W.P.D.? (What would Patrick Do?) Would he march in the parade alongside the likes of Mayor Walsh and Governor Baker? They both refused to march if the Outvets, a homosexual Veterans association, were not allowed to march under their rainbow flag. It has been a brouhaha for years with court cases, appeals and flip flops with the current outcome that sodomites can march under their rainbow flag right along with a St. Patrick impersonator and our young step dancing daughters who have already gotten used to the idea of pervs in their bathroom and public accommodations thanks to Atty. Gen. Maura Healey…so what’s the big deal... and If you don’t like it yer can lump it!

It’s a great day for the Irish…but when you’ve sobered up - study up on the real St. Patrick not the ‘pot of gold at the end of the rainbow’ (follow the money) version.

Chris Noonan Funnell

March 17, 2017

Chris Funnell, Freelance writer, Commonwealth Covenant Keepers, Founder and Director

 

The Lost Boys and Girls of America

by Chris Noonan Funnell

In Cambridge, Massachusetts every third person was born in another country. In summer Boston’s streets are teaming with tourists. Double-decker trolleys and Duckboats navigate what once were cow paths or float on the Charles River. 

An ad for a job fair for one of the touring companies caught my eye. That would be a fun job, I thought and I’d learn a lot about this fascinating city. A friend has given tours for many years and we’d even talked about starting a touring company focusing on the Christian heritage here. In the past few years I’ve heard a lot of interpreters taking liberties with the truth and wanted to present an un-PC tour to vie with haunted happenings, gourmet geeks, Cheers tours and pub crawls. I hope there is hunger for a tour that honors our past so we do not lose respect for the Judeo-Christian foundation that made this city so important. Missionaries were sent out from Boston in the 19^th century and now fruit of their work is returning to repay us from Brazil, Africa and Korea seeing the Church has nearly extinguished its flame.

The first casino is coming and medical marijuana stores are open in Massachusetts; the Boston Bomber heard victim’s statements, apologized to victims, sort of, and praised Allah. Some accepted his apology and even forgave him. For some there was a measure of closure but many are still dealing with too much pain and rage to forgive. The Tsarnaev brothers came to our state lived off the taxpayers and literally tore a hole in the fabric of our city. A book by an investigative reporter is about to be published.

Maximum Harm: The Tsarnaev Brothers, the FBI, and the Road to the Marathon Bombing by Michele McPhee

 What happens in Boston does not stay in Boston.  For good or ill we are still the “Hub of the Universe”, the sending place of academic missionaries and politicians that have changed the world with presidents and personalities. The cream of the crop have come and gone for centuries. The most recent graduates received their commencement admonitions and diplomas and some internationals will stay here and even import their parents and families into a higher living standard while locals feel the squeeze economically and move, pushed out by the Sanctuary City mentality of Boston's Mayor and the Governor.

A generation has been educated never having saluted the flag nor learned patriotic songs and prayers which were said in school before 1963. The courts have redefined marriage, family and the value of human life. Lost boys and girls find life expendable and sexuality, gender and commitment fall into the TBD category because boundaries are disappearing.

Boys refuse to grow up; like Peter Pan, most have no problem with casual sex and sperm donorship while girls press into man’s realm and demand society pay for abortion and even contraception. They are on the verge of tipping the scales and throwing away the freedom others paid for with their blood.

The lost boy of Charleston SC attended a Bible study and at the end shot nine believers in cold blood. The boy was crazed with drugs and should have been restrained rather than enabled by friends and family. How many more are there out there? What is the remedy? I don’t think it is gun control. In fact if there was someone packin’ in that church things might not have been so devastating.

We are now living in a time when insanity is just as much a plague as cancer or diabetes. They are all sicknesses brought on by poor choices either ours or our predecessors. There is a way to actually live victoriously and it is inscribed on walls of our statehouses and universities but has been effectively ignored and replaced by man-made rules. 

It would be grand to see a fleet of tour buses and Duck Boats teaching those facts and parables but the damage is so extensive some believe only God can save our nation now.

We celebrate our Independence in a big way here in Boston but the enemies of the America have hollowed out our freedoms and are removing piece by piece our Constitutional footing aided and abetted by a compromised media with a leftist agenda. The Fifth Column, the government media complex, the entertainment industry and academia have brainwashed our children and stolen their hope and freedom so that blasphemy replaces the patriotic and sacred songs that once unified us.

Here are the lyrics to the cynical paean Take Me to Church perhaps the Charleston shooter or Tsarnaev liked it. The Ellen DeGeneres Show featured a tattooed ballet dancer to this song as lost girls and boys swooned.   

Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

If I'm a pagan of the good times
My lover's the sunlight
To keep the Goddess on my side
She demands a sacrifice
To drain the whole sea
Get something shiny
Something meaty for the main course
That's a fine looking high horse
What you got in the stable?
We've a lot of starving faithful
That looks tasty
That looks plenty
This is hungry work

No masters or kings when the ritual begins
There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin
In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene
Only then I am human
Only then I am clean
Amen. Amen. Amen

Songwriters
BYRNE, ANDREW HOZIER

Published by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reliv Barista School comes to Boston

https://upcomingspecialevent.blogspot.com/

How I became a Reliv Barista

In May of 2014 a giant began stalking my husband and me. Like Goliath he had a loud voice, towered over us and threatened our life as we knew it. The giant's name was not Goliath but "Third stage Cancer". This giant had stalked and taken many family members on both sides. A team of doctors presented a plan that would take the better part of a year. A few months before the diagnosis we had found Reliv which worked wonders for my moods and energy level. During Dave's treatment of radiation, chemo and surgery I became his "Reliv Barista" adding Fiberstore and Innergize to Reliv Now shakes and making sure he took extra LunaRichX capsules.
We always told the doctors and nurses about Reliv products and showed them the ingredients and studies. They have been impressed with Dave's strength throughout ileostomy surgery and 8 grueling cycles of chemo. His surgeon said "There was no downside to taking it."  Reliv helped Dave stay strong and gave him the energy and strength that he needed to get through his treatment. Today, Dave is happy and healthy and looking forward to what life has to offer. 
Dave has used LRX capsules to make a paste to apply on skin lesions with great success.
I plan to keep telling everyone I can about Reliv and highly recommend the Reliv Now shakes and LRX to anyone with a cancer diagnosis who’s going through chemo. It will definitely help give them the strength and energy needed for a quicker recovery.

Chris Funnell

P. S. Contact my website to learn about the optimum nutrition, epigenetics, Lunasin and the new Fit3 program. www.goodnews.reliv.com

My latest Column published by the New Boston Post

http://newbostonpost.com/2017/01/19/buyers-and-sellers-of-bitter-butter/

Sometimes you have to mercilessly edit essays due to space. Editors also are realists about attention spans.
The above links to what the New Boston Post published and below my full article which this blog allows me to print in full.

Buyers and Sellers of Bitter Butter 2017

By Chris Noonan Funnell

The Bitter Butter Award of 2017 goes to...drum roll please… Georgia Representative John Lewis for refusing to attend the Inauguration of the 45^th President of the United Sates and using his platform as a civil Rights icon to stir up dissent and delegitimize the election and Trump’s presidency setting a poor example for his party and younger generations who need to see democracy work.

Betty bought some bitter butter, but the bitter butter was too bitter for the better batter, so she bought some better butter for the bitter batter and made the bitter batter better!

Spoken quickly this tongue twister was useful to impress small children with my verbal skills. Teaching art for nearly a decade gave me a front row seat on the state of the American child and family. I have seen the frustration of a child who could not find a crayon to match her skin color and made a point of ordering the multi-cultural art supplies that are now available; in January our art lessons included making posters about MLK. Children are more malleable and accepting of differences but they also pick up neighborhood tensions and attitudes like sponges.  When adults set a good example of fair play children follow. When teachers and authority figures cry foul everyone takes sides and division occurs.

It happened after the presidential election in 2000, and unfortunately it is happening again, as Democrats contest the election results and threaten to boycott the Inauguration of the President-Elect Donald Trump.

Snowflakes, youths unable to accept the election results, fuss and whine and plot to disrupt the Inaugural festivities. The adults and senior members in the losing party instead of setting a good example add to the hostile climate lead by civil rights icon and long time Representative from Georgia, John Lewis.  Lewis’s glory days were in the violent racial struggles in the South of the 1960’s when as a young man he marched with Martin Luther King. Perhaps Lewis imagines he must lead a march today against Donald Trump, who in his view is the illegitimate winner causing some to chant “Not my president!”.

What has happened to the peaceful transition of power which America has modeled for the world since its beginning? We did not see this when Obama was elected in 2008 nor 2012 despite the bitter disappointment on the right. That is why I felt the need to call out Rep. Lewis for his bad example and confer upon him the Bitter Butter Award of 2017.

Back on Jan. 20, 2001 when George W. Bush began his first term there had been an extended battle for the presidency and ballots were being hand-counted in Florida as the nation looked on. It came down to a Supreme Court decision in favor of Bush who (like Trump) had won the electoral vote. Al Gore won the popular vote though some have disputed those results as well. A few sore losers have never gotten over that court ruling and never gave Bush a chance. Instead, partisan (and racial) bitterness has continued to plague politics even though in 2008 America elected its first black President, Barak Obama, and re-elected him in 2012.

In the aftermath of the Bush election I yearned for the kind of eloquence Dr. King was noted for to soothe and inspire those adults who took offense during the extended and contentious ballot re-count in 2000.  I took some time out to jot down some thoughts under the influence on my drug of choice, caffeine, at a bookstore coffee shop. While waiting for something profound to percolate up with consolation and healing for my irate, disconsolate African-American compatriots, my eyes fell on a poetry display. If only I could soothe angry, frayed emotions with a poem or an essay as persuasive as the words of the late Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.; a soft answer to turn away wrath…a bridge over troubled waters.

But what did I behold sitting in suburbia without a person of color in sight but the cover of a poetry book by Nikki Giovanni. I remembered her writings from college; her poems sometimes called for revolution and promoted black liberation. She has accumulated over 20 honorary degrees for her poetry which expresses hate such as "We would also suggest blinding or the removal of at least two eyes from one of the heads of all albino freaks". As I began to read one, two, then a third poem, I suddenly felt I was in the wrong aisle. Ms. Giovanni was not into bridge building, but was actually calling for violence, vengeance and reverse racism…bitter butter!

I put the book back on the shelf and the bridge collapsed into a sea of negativity. Instead of soothing words I got my Irish up. How many Bettys are buying this bitter butter? How many spread it on their toast each morning and serve it to their kids like they did during “the Troubles” in Ireland? The recipe for peace and progress calls for better ingredients like those MLK called for: wisdom, justice, hope and non-violence.

Sad to say, The First Black President, Barack Obama did not follow MLK’s recipe for a melting pot and the beacon of liberty to the world. A recipe that blended humanity rather than divided and inflamed passions and created an anti-establishment movement in which police are characterized as racist and assassinated . Perhaps as a student Obama was all too familiar with Ms. Giovanni’s Bitter Butter.

The Justice which MLK was calling for in his “How Long?” speech of 1965 is neither valued nor aimed for by the BLM movement. They have built up a false narrative that incites class warfare and lawlessness.

 President Obama used his January 13, 2011 Tucson speech to lecture the nation about goodness. “… Let us use this occasion to expand our moral imaginations, to listen to each other  more carefully,” This from the same person who proclaimed in his determination to foist the Health Care monstrosity on the nation…"if they bring a knife to this fight, we'll bring a gun."

In 2016 we saw racism flare-ups as the "Black Lives Matter" mantra was continually repeated since 2013 when George Zimmerman was acquitted in the death of a black youth and later, in Ferguson MO when a black youth died at the hands of police. President Obama never failed to use these tragedies to call for more gun control even though the greatest gun violence occurs in cities like Chicago, NYC and Detroit where gun laws are strictest. How long will these harangues go on? Not long…thanks to the peaceful transition of power this week.

So the 2017 Bitter Butter Award goes to Rep. John Lewis for stirring up strife and smearing not only Trump and his presidency but the legitimacy of the votes of more than 60 million Americans who elected Trump.  Although Rep. Lewis has had a long and arguably distinguished career on the front lines of the Civil Rights movement he does not win the Lifetime Achievement Bitter Butter Award; that distinction goes to Barack Obama for his consistency and dedication, causing a racial melt down in our nation.

As we go forward with a new President and cabinet let’s hope there is less taste for the bitter butter of racism coming from all sides, particularly from the media.

Chris Noonan Funnell

Freelance writer/ Columnist                  Jan. 18, 2017

Transgender  Transparency  

                                                                

What is behind the push to embrace transgenderism? Is it not to force everyone who lives in unquestioning acceptance of their God-given gender identity to be as confused and tormented as those who live with extreme discomfort in their own skin?

Is it not that those who question God about His ability to be God as absurd as the clay pot critiquing the potter? They are dissatisfied with how they were made, too short, too bald, too hairy, too unattractive, too masculine, too feminine; where does this gender dysphoria end?

Our backslidden culture has toppled off its Judeo-Christian Foundation. It has become politically correct to question God and even his existence. The rebel says out of understandable bitterness and pain, “If you are a good God, why did you allow me to be molested and abandoned by the people who were supposed to take care of me? Surely a good God would not leave me in such a horrible situation, so I conclude you are either a cruel or ambivalent God and I must make my own decisions from here on out. Your rules and boundaries don’t apply in my domain.”

A compassionate society can relate to the cause of this pain and turmoil but not cave in to the illogical response to throw the baby out with the bath water. Both those who insist on mainstreaming perversion as well as those who persecute those with gender dysphoria are wrong.  We as a Commonwealth seek justice and protection and health for all people, however this bill known as the Bathroom Bill will force all of us to live in confusion and to wear a costume of compliance with a resentment that will result in greater friction and violence toward those who unjustly and selfishly force their fellow citizens into psychological contortions, extreme discomfort and anxiety for those women who have been abused to be confronted with males in their locker room or restroom.

Biology does occasionally make mistakes but even the genetic blooper is not God’s fault. The Creator of the original design but sin and selfishness have corrupted and degraded our DNA as the study of epigenetics now shows.

A compassionate society as our commonwealth aspires to be should support those who are confused but never conform to their confusion as the Bathroom Bill demands of the majority and even victimizes the most vulnerable. This is democracy run amuck and a tyrannical misuse of the law.  

To protect our most vulnerable citizens and children we must oppose HB 4253 (formerly HB 1577). 

 

Chris Noonan Funnell

May 11, 2016