My Irish American Princess Cowgirl Hat

St. Patrick’s Day 2015 was just about a month before my husband David’s final step in his yearlong cancer treatment, the ileostomy reversal, and removal of the ostomy bag. 

No more bag and no more chemo which at intervals had to be administered by a battery powered pump attached to a special port in his chest.

We had come through the worst winter on record in Boston with several feet of snow dumped on our driveway which took a community effort to keep clear. One day I saw a train of military dump trucks passing our house. I had to go out in the sub-zero weather to see what was going on. The Governor had sent the National Guard to the head of our street in Medford which always has drainage issues. 

All day they carted off loads of snow to a nearby ball field converting it to a snow farm. We thought that the snow mountain would never melt until July and leave a mud sty fit for pigs rather than a playing field for youth soccer. To our surprise in April things were back to normal. The March winds were blowing “In like a lion…”and drying out the moisture.

We decided to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day last year by going out to an actual movie theater using two AMC passes gifted to us for Christmas, by a sweet young couple in our church along with a crisp hundred dollar bill which we’d designated to go out for dinner after “Snowmageddon” and the chemo-trails were behind us.

I rarely went out during that time but on a trip to Christmas Tree Shop I grabbed up the last Kelly green cowgirl hat with rhinestone tiara design. I have always wanted a horse and used to have an Annie Oakley outfit when I was small. Well, so far I got the hat but not the horse; still workin’ on that dream.

I decided to wear my green hat on St. Patty’s day to the movie theater and then out for a celebratory pint of Guinness. My WASP husband, Dave, who hasn’t a stitch of Irish in his DNA has learned to go along with my shenanigans, green nail polish and all.

 We entered the new Assembly Row Theater and took the escalator to the top floor only to be sent back down to turn in our passes like peons for admission tickets.  (This did not set well with the princess but she determined not to let anything rain on her parade).

We had chosen American Sniper out of the several films offered and we were not disappointed. It is a great story about a true American hero who served in Iraq. He was a uniquely skilled marksman with a heart. As a consequence he suffered debilitating PTSD. But when he returned to his wife and family he understood it and used his coping skills to help others. War changes people and he did not return the same person, his widow explained.

Neither has my husband returned to be the same person after his long battle with colo-rectal cancer, but he is gaining strength, battle tested, is leaner, more focused and is cancer free! What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

It was a windy day March 17^th 2015 and we had something to celebrate. I hoped we’d go try one of the new restaurants in the trendy section on the Mystic River but after the movie Dave was ready to go home. So after the matinee the prince and princess headed for the parking lot. I was still wearing my bright green tiara hat when a gust of wind ripped off my crown and I surged forward to catch it as it rolled along the ground. Dave quickly stated he would not chase after it in his condition. I decided I would have to be the one to retrieve it but in mere seconds it had rolled around the corner and my heart despaired of catching it in my high heeled boots.

A tall, dark young man had come out of the theater behind us and must have been inspired by American Sniper because he quickly assessed the situation and shot off after the hat saying ”I got this!” and chased after the renegade princess hat which was now rolling down Grand Union Boulevard. The cross wind had taken it down the middle of the street like a stampeding bull with cowboy in hot pursuit. We watched standing in amazement in the frigid wind. Dave was so cold he went ahead to warm up the car while I watched my young hero finally round up the runaway hat, turn back catching his breath after running a city block for a stranger.  I had time to get my gloves off and dip into my wallet to pull out a fiver for the young hero. As he handed me the slightly bruised hat I thanked him profusely offering the bill which he refused at first. I detected a slight accent and somehow suspected he could actually use the small token of my appreciation.

 “Please have a beer on me!” I insisted like the princess I felt to be after such a kindness. He took it with an ever so slight continental bow. The IAP (Irish American Princess) never made it to the pub that St. Patty’s Day but she thinks she might have encountered an angel.

Chris Noonan Funnell                                             March 3, 2016

Cruz unmasks the Inner Donald

New York Values Kerfuffle Unmasks the Inner Donald

For the truth-starved conservative grown tired and lean waiting for their much maligned values to find place at the table in the presidential primary, the Republican debates have been a smorgasbord of delights. Even the lesser lights have said things we longed to hear and the front runners say it louder and longer as their poll numbers reflect our applause.

The debate on Jan 14^th had something for every taste bud on the Red-State spectrum. There were a couple of candidates of the RINO variety I could have done without. We are hungering for red meat after so much pablum and empty promises from the current administration. Hope and Change became ‘Hope to Change Back’ to the country we once were.

The highlight of the evening was when Ted Cruz was challenged to defend his campaign trail statement about Trump having “New York State Values”. Cruz encountered moderator Maria Bartiromo herself a New Yorker, who made it personal; Cruz opined that everyone knows what New York values are but she pressed him to explain, poised like a cat about to pounce on a cornered mouse. His humorous retort …”well, if you are a New Yorker perhaps not.”

 Cruz in his usual style articulated how in recent years New York has become a hot bed of progressive liberalism, solidly pro-choice, pro-gay marriage, and politically correct beyond the bounds of the majority of American comfort zones.  One poll says 65% of Americans think we are on the wrong track, though those living in Sanctuary Cities like New York and Boston live in an altered reality unaware of their actual distance from mainstream America blinded by the liberal media and political cartel.

Trump may have exposed his true colors under a relatively new veneer of hyper-conservatism born of his win-win mentality in business.

Trump took the opportunity to turn the tables on Cruz and played the 9/11 card, extolling the people of New York City for their endurance of such a horrible catastrophe. But this was not what Cruz was referring to and he applauded New York’s resiliency. This may have actually been a revealing moment about Trump’s famous killer instinct; his willingness to say anything to win, to the detriment of all…his party and his country.

Bread and Circus, from Powerball to Superbowl distracts us from recognizing the freedoms lost, the price our children and grandchildren will pay for our inattention, whether by ignorance or apathy, to the criminal behavior of those in power.

In a Trump presidency when the stage make up and blonde tint fades and the comb over hairs disappear, Trump the conservative, may be unmasked as more committed to his own ideas than moral issues.

We know he’d be tough on illegals and refugees from Syria. He’d build and effective wall to keep out terrorists and stem the tide of foreigners seeking American jobs and sending money out of the country. He’d strengthen our military and use it when needed to regain our dignity after the humiliation suffered when our Navy was forced to surrender to Iran before releasing billions of dollars to their coffers.

But would Trump appoint pro-life, pro-family Supreme Court judges?  This is questionable due to his “New York values”.

When pressed for an apology the day after the debate Sen. Cruz replied  "I apologize to the millions of New Yorkers who've been let down by liberal politicians."
"I apologize for the working men and women of New York who are denied jobs — jobs that have been plentiful just south of Pennsylvania — because Gov. Cuomo bans fracking. I apologize to all the pro-life, pro-marriage, pro-Second Amendment New Yorkers who Gov. Cuomo brazenly told have no place in the state of New York because that’s not who New Yorkers are," Cruz said on "The Sean Hannity Show."
Speaking to a separate group of reporters, Cruz also said, “I apologize to all of the African American children who Mayor de Blasio tried to throw out of their charter schools that were providing a life line to the American dream."
"And I apologize to all the cops and firefighters and 9/11 heroes who had no choice but to stand and turn their backs on Mayor de Blasio because Mayor de Blasio over and over again stands with the looters and criminals rather than the brave men and women [in] blue.”

Give me more truth and less coverage about movie stars and drug lords, Star Wars, sports scandals, lottery mania escapism. We have some serious work to do. This could be our last call for a national turn around.

Ben Carson warned…”Don’t let secular progressives drive out our Judeo-Christian ethics.”
Our enemies, and we have them, are using our freedoms against us, circling us like a pack of hungry wolves.
Without a true Conservative in the White House enforcing our Constitution, strengthening our borders and military, gaining peace through strength, vetting immigrants and returning jobs and economic growth to American citizens…we will have failed our children and grandchildren and as Angela Jolie has warned see our daughters raped in the public squares.

Chris Noonan Funnell           Feb 27, 2016
             

Buyers and Sellers of Bitter Butter 2016 (A rewrite of Bitter Butter of 2000)



This article was first written in 2000 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 won the electoral vote. Al Gore won the popular vote though some have disputed those results as well. A few sore losers have never got 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. This month we celebrate the birthday of the late Dr. Martin Luther King for his inspiring words and work on behalf of civil rights and freedom.



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 has been useful, over the years 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 cannot find a crayon to match her skin color. I 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 do pick up tensions and attitudes from adults like veritable sponges. The problems lay with the adults not the kids, initially.



I yearned for the kind of eloquence Dr. King was noted for to sooth and inspire those who had taken offense during the extended and contentious election season, so 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 those of the late Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.



I hungered for the right words…a soft answer to turn away wrath.

But what did I know sitting in suburbia without a person of color in sight except on the cover of a poetry book by Nikki Giovani, whose writings I remembered from college. I considered buying the book in hopes of broadening my understanding and cross-cultural bridge building. I began to read but after reading one, two, then a third poem, I suddenly felt I was in the wrong aisle. Ms. Giovanni was not into bridge building, but actually was calling for bitterness 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 up to their kids daily like they did during “the Troubles” in Ireland?

The recipe for peace and progress calls for better ingredients.



Unfortunately, a decade later, President Obama used his January 13, 2011 Tucson speech to lecture the nation about goodness. What he lacked in content he made up for in length. He took advantage of the tragedy to infer that the violence of a deranged anarchist is preventable if we all quiet down and live in harmony. He called for “public healing and civil discourse” while shamelessly or cluelessly, transferring guilt to those who speak out. “… let us use this occasion to expand our moral imaginations, to listen to each others more carefully,” This from the same person who said about his determination to foist the Health Care monstrosity on the nation…"if they bring a knife to this fight, we'll bring a gun."

He went, on and on and on and ended up souring what should have been a soothing speech from one leading by example.

In 2016 we are seeing racism flare-ups as the "Black Lives Matter" mantra is repeated when a black person dies at the hands of the police. President Obama never fails to use these tragedies to call for more gun control even though the greatest gun violence occurs in cites like Chicago, NYC and Detroit where gun laws are strictest. How long will these harangs go on?
Martin Luther King born January 15, 1929 and assasinated in 1968 said in 1965:

    "I know you are asking today, "How long will it take?" (Speak, sir) Somebody's asking, "How long will prejudice blind the visions of men, darken their understanding, and drive bright-eyed wisdom from her sacred throne?" Somebody's asking, "When will wounded justice, lying prostrate on the streets of Selma and Birmingham and communities all over the South, be lifted from this dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of men?" Somebody's asking, "When will the radiant star of hope be plunged against the nocturnal bosom of this lonely night, (Speak, speak, speak) plucked from weary souls with chains of fear and the manacles of death? How long will justice be crucified, (Speak) and truth bear it?" (Yes, sir) I come to say to you this afternoon, however difficult the moment, (Yes, sir) however frustrating the hour, it will not be long, (No sir) because "truth crushed to earth will rise again." (Yes, sir) How long? Not long, (Yes, sir) because "no lie can live forever." (Yes, sir) How long? Not long, (All right. How long) because "you shall reap what you sow." (Yes, sir)"

 ..."How long? Not long, because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice."

(Please see my previous post about the movie Selma which I recommend)


Chris Noonan Funnell

Free lance writer/Columnist











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The Big C ate my Blog

I wrote this to explain why I have not been keeping up my blog. In fact for a while I forgot I had one...

Blinded by the Gold

During the Winter of Five Snowpocalalypses in Boston, in a chemo-induced cabin fever my husband and I viewed many DVD’s from the library. 

It has been nearly a year since my husband’s sudden diagnosis and treatment started, requiring chemo, radiation, surgery, more chemo and surgery. We kind of moved into the bedroom of our flat because sitting for him was less comfortable than being in bed. So we moved the rabbit ears and decoder box for digital broadcast into our bedroom because we don’t have cable or pay TV. We refuse to support cable cartels making us pay for unwanted channels. We hooked our dinosaur equipment up to our flat screen formerly only used for videos. Now we were wired. On cold days we could keep the heat down low; our bedroom was the warmest room in the house because of old ductwork, and the heat generated by our two laptops kept us warm. We had to give up our two cats when we moved into the apartment in our rabbit warren-like neighborhood per order of the landlord, but let it go!

While the Academy Award hoopla was going on we watched a movie from the library’s B section; The Blind Side made in 2009 starred one of our favorite Hollywood heroines, Sandra Bullock. You may recall, (it seems nearly everybody has already seen the movies we’re just catching up on) it is a true story of redemption when a wealthy Tennessee family inspired by a mother’s heart takes in and finally adopts a black homeless teenager in Memphis. Not far into the movie I strongly identified with Bullock because I myself have morphed into a she-bear more than once in defense of my cubs.

Big Mike, the gentle-giant type, was so good with a basket ball he was given the opportunity to go to a white-bread Christian prep school in spite of his poor academic record. Our youngest son, except for pigmentation, was a lot like Big Mike. In high school he was 6’2’ weighed 315 lbs. but played no sports, preferring a computer screen where he learned how to build combat robots.

Somehow the daughter of a Harvard football trainer had managed to raise three sons none of whom played contact sports, the older two preferring tennis and the youngest moved slowly but gracefully like Big Mike. But, my “baby” was growing taciturn since he transferred from Christian to public school in his teens and underachieved in most classes (like many of his teachers…but let that go).

Big Mike’s biological mom, had born many children for the State who took them from her, including Big Mike, because of her addiction to the drugs she used due to the pain of serial abandonment and loss.

In our roomy suburb I did not fully appreciate how some things on the Internet were polluting my child’s mind and fueled his rebellion. It was sheer relief when we shipped him off to college in Texas.

In my empty nest, with no boys to mow our considerable lawns in summer, nor shovel snow in the winter of ’07, real-estate values were going south rapidly. We put our house on the market thinking we might go to the inner city to help “the young black man”. This was the theme of a song my husband wrote. I quipped, “But how can we, Mr. and Mrs. Vanilla, be of any help?” Had I seen the Blind Sided movie, which did not come out until the following year, I might have had my epiphany sooner.

But at that time I was focusing on missteps in the Middle East and in particular, Israel. A magazine arrived one day with a cover photo that rocked my world. A youth dressed in shorts and T-shirt, wearing the same kind of socks and Vans sneakers my youngest son always wore, with close cropped hair like his, sat in a chair with his head leaning all the way back. His legs limply rested on the floor of the second floor dorm room which apparently had taken a hit from a rocket in Tel Aviv. The exterior walls were gone. Whether he was alive or dead you could not tell, but a thin trickle of blood ran from his nose down his chalky skin. His mouth gaped, his hand rested on rebar bent in the shape of a shepherd’s crook. Over him stood a young helmeted aid worker looking back for help, his expression said all; He is unsure if he was dealing with a survivor or a corpse.

This photo so stunned me I had to call my son at college in the middle of the day just to hear his voice and convince myself that the subject was not my son. I was so relieved to hear my son’s voice that after the call I immediately and profusely thanked God that my son was safe in Texas. I felt an immediate response from Him in my heart…”But that is my child and I want you to pray for him as you would for your own children.” I got it. That’s the best way I can explain why I care about Israel. I do because God cares for them like a firstborn child.

So in watching this familiar situation in the movie, I was blind-sided like mama Bullock who so felt the unspoken need of this young black man, she opened her life, home, family and wallet to a very sweet but lost soul who just needed some love and direction, in which mama Bullock excelled.

I loved the scene at the football game where Big Mike is taking a verbal and physical pounding from a smaller but highly skilled opponent. That kid’s redneck father sat a few rows behind Bullock, his mindset was the headwater of the stream of verbal abuse and ugly racism spouted by him and his son.

“Sticks and stones” mama Bullock reminded her children to ignore the nasty comments, but ultimately she could take it no longer. She stood up turned and called to the loudmouth…”Hey!… Deliverance!...Zip it up or I’ll come zip it up for ya!” This coming from a beautiful woman dressed impeccably, wearing high heels in a stadium stunned the bigoted blighter into silence. Score one for momma bear!

Where am I going with this? Back to the Oscars, a hypocritical and orgiastic display of self gratification for making tons of money while spinning stories. Movies like Fifty Shades of Grey made millions while sending out a dangerous message to our youth. Selma took the story of Martin Luther King and twisted it into reverse racism, co-opting good, worse yet, stealing God’s true glory giving it to man. I could go on... but let it go!

Update Jan. 28, 2016   I stand corrected! I actually saw Selma this week, got it at the library, and I loved it. So sorry the star, David Oyelowo, did not get an Oscar last year. He deserved it. I had a negative response to the Oscar night representation of the film and the rap song lyrics but the film portrayed MLK and the civil rights activists with dignity. Too bad journalists have all moved to Left Field today.

 This article appeared in the Boston Broadside March 2015 edition

MAssachusetts GOP Convention at BU Agganis Arena 3-22-14

Just getting there was a trial. I knew better than to drive and pay for parking and I hear the garage was full anyway by the time I arrived at 9 a.m. My press packet was registered through COMFLM (Commonwealth of Massachusetts Free Lance Media) Try saying that 3 times fast.

I first and foremost represent Commonwealth Covenant Keepers ( now say that 3 times fast) an un-structured organization of Judeo-Chritian believers who believe in the founding principles of this great nation which are expressed perfectly well in our Constitution.

There are a lot of issues to take issue with but you have to pick your battles or you will run out of steam before you get to the one you were born to fight.  Jeff Goins says "Write something worth fighting over, because that’s how you change things. That’s how you create art." I like that because I am an artist, not only a writer but a graduate of Mass Art where I majored in painting. I have been so interested in changing things that I have not found the time to paint much but I will post some of my visual artwork later. On to the Convention floor!

 Opening with the Presentation of Colors, National Anthem, Pledge of Allegiance but no opening prayer ?

 Plenty of room for the 1,000 no show delegates; about 2500 did spend the day doing their civic duty.

 Nobody wanted to sit behind the media platform, and they didn't have to...plenty of room!

Honor Guard with fife and drum was a nice touch. Always love the reminder of our patriotic past.

Hope Springs Eternal and bloggers not so much

My last Blog entry was just before the November 2012 election that gave us a second term of Obama.
I really was not prepared for that defeat...besides, can you call it a true defeat if you think it was an election with many instances of voter fraud? It seems as if we the electorate have been deserted like the kid in Home Alone. Are there no adults in the House? Is there no leadership who can muster a challenge to the illegitimacy of this presidency? It has become sickeningly clear that they are all too compromised to act in our behalf. There are some brave souls bucking the system...Rand Paul and Ted Cruz stand out and have literally stood up for hours of filibustering. That has given me hope and as springtime rolls around again so does the hope that we can turn this disaster around or slow it down.

 My hope is motivated by my new role as Nana. I had two new grandsons born in 2013 tripling my grandmotherly responsibilities. Mothering made me write passionate letters to the editor about the downward trend in society my kids would live in. As my 3 sons grew I began writing columns that were published mostly in the MetroWest Daily News for almost 10 years when we lived out beyond 495. After they all went off to college and stayed gone my husband and I asked ourselves how we ended up with all this grass to mow with no boys to do it and no one to shovel that long driveway? So we sold our house just as the market was bottoming out in 2007. We moved in closer to Boston where among other things I would get in to Beacon Hill more often to testify for Commonwealth Covenant Keepers. The economy kept getting worse and I had to take a full time job which kept me from the State House.

The Tea Party Revolution of 2010 was an exciting time and it seemed like we would stop this behemoth called Obamacare. Inexplicably we failed in 2012 when conservatives just could not pull the lever for a RINO, so we lost. Things have taken on a surreal quality as every day seems to bring a new affront to our lifestyle. Whether it's the trampling of our religious freedoms, our Constitution, our legal rights, our privacy or the ruination of our educational, medical, economic infrastructure while putting our unborn in debt (should they survive the womb, the most dangerous place in America with 55 million aborted).

This is why I get my "Irish" back up. Not on my watch! Grandma will not stand idly by and let them steal from my grandchildren.

So I will be at the Massachusetts GOP Convention asking questions of any candidate I can buttonhole; Uncomfortable un-PC questions like "How does your faith inform your voting?" or "What is your stand on Israel, the sanctity of life, marriage?" I already know how most will answer but they need to know someone is asking these questions. They are not a forgone conclusion to the thousands, maybe millions I represent,

the covenant keepers who still believe in accountability to God. I will be wearing my red Georgia Bull Dogs hat. Not that I'm a fan of that team; I like to think the "G" stands for God and He is One fierce opponent.