The Death of the Tea Party

I started this blog, back in 2010, to “stand against a sea of troubles and by opposing, end them…” I had faith in the America people and that faith has been rewarded. The Tea Party is dying on the vine. Sarah Palin is gone from fox and fox’s viewership is falling. President Obama’s approval is 60%, and the number of solid Blue states beat the number of solid Red states 20 to 12 in the 2012 election. All the signs are here and my love and faith in the American people has paid off. Well, sort of.

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In September of last year (at the peak of the 2012 elections) I made a conscious decision. From July all the way to September I had worked hard to try not to alienate my friends and family, in the South, with my political views. I was working to raise money for a much needed ‘Power Chair’ and to move me from the ‘Extended Stay Motel’ I live in (with no elevator, or way to get my power chair downstairs) into a safer building that was ‘Wheelchair Friendly’. The building, I still live in, has had seven shootings in five years, three deaths, one riot, and drugs running in and out every day.

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I sought to write and post and hoped to rally support for my cause, to move out of danger and into a safe home. However, the election was drawing close and the numbers for President Obama did not look good. I knew that if I kept quiet about my prophecies and President Obama lost, I would regret my decision for the rest of my life. In late September I broke with my policy of political silence and began posting and writing political works, again. My ‘Daniel’s Moving Assistance Fund’ failed, just as I had predicted, and I knew that my unpopular political views were the nail in the coffin.

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Today I read the headlines and realize that my prophetic writings were correct, but that they cost me my opportunity to move. I still live, in fear, in the same motel. Being on the second floor, I have used my Power Chair all of five times since October 14, 2012.  I have no regrets, but it is difficult to know that I was correct in my writings but damaging to my safe future. We all make choices, and we all learn to live with them, and I will live with my choice.

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After the campaigns were over, and the election done, I thought of running another campaign. One just to get me to a safe and disabled-friendly building. At that time I was given council that I should not do that under any circumstances, from what I thought was a good and long-term friend. Since then, this friend has unfriended  me on Facebook without so much as a warning or message. I have messaged him, texted him and tried to find out why he dropped me as a friend. To no avail. This hurts deeply. I have no idea what I said or did, and no way to find out. However, since he has ended our friendship I am now reconsidering starting a new campaign to raise the funds I need to move to safety.

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First, I would like input, feedback, on this idea. Second, I am not physically capable of writing as much as I did late last year. This article, alone, has taken me two days to write and post. My caregiver is offering to help me purchase a ‘Speech to Text’program, so that I can write from my bed without needing my hands nearly as much to work. If that assistance materializes, I am hoping to start writing again. I miss everyone that comes and reads my work. I miss the socialization, I miss the support… I miss the love.

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What do you  think?

Thank you for your kindness and support.

Daniel

The Myth Of Hitler's Gun Ban

" Whenever a politician, or anyone else, starts talking about regulating guns, it’s a safe bet that someone will bring up how Hitler supposedly outlawed guns in Germany, which supposedly enabled him to do all the mischief he did.  As we’ve noted before, Adolf is a staple reference among propagandists. It’s become an automatic response to compare anyone you don’t like to Der Fuhrer, on the grounds that since he was evil incarnate, everything he ever said or did must also be evil. People have even been known to suggest that since he was a vegetarian, vegetarians are evil. It’s not surprising, then, that you often see this quote pop up:

“This year will go down in history! For the first time, a civilized nation has full gun registration! Our streets will be safer, our police more efficient, and the world will follow our lead into the future!”  –Adolf Hitler, 1935

Trouble is, Hitler never made such a speech in 1935. ..."

More at the link below.

 

The Myth Of Hitler's Gun Ban.

Pride Mobility Harms Disabled Americans

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUbzAIbGS04

This is a video testimony about the greed and avarice of Pride Mobility and how they harm disabled Americans.
I have tried calling, I was treated rudely and told lies. I have talked with 'Skip' (a Pride Technician) and he flat out told me; he was going to get PAID for coming out and taking pictures but there was "no way in HELL" I would get my Jazzy 600 repaired. Pride Mobility KNOWS that this particular part 'falls off easily' and they are USING disabled Americans to further their greed.
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I asked for help fixing a PLASTIC 'fender' attached to a steel frame via TWO small screws. The screws FAIL regulally and Pride makes money charging disabled Americans to PAY FOR THEIR MISTAKE!

‘The Story of Daniel’ Episode Six – Conclusion ‘Daniel the Freshman’ Finale

‘The Story of Daniel’

Episode Six – Conclusion

‘Daniel the Freshman’

Finale

I slept surprising well, the night before our Opening Night for ‘Sweet Charity’. I awoke, in the morning, feeling refreshed and ready for the day and the performance. I breezed through classes, and in-between classes the day seemed charged with invisible energy. I didn’t work, that day, so when I was finished with classes I went right over to the theater. I could check lights and maybe get some instruction on the make-up.

When I arrived, at the theater, Truman was there but no one else had arrived. I asked Truman about the make-up, and he walked me back to the boy’s dressing room. When he brought out the make-up he began apologizing. Not really to me, but more just in general;

“I found out, today, that all we have is grease paint make-up.”

He took out a tube that looked like a toothpaste tube on steroids. He took the top off, rubbed some on his hand and held it by my face.

“Well, you are not playing an Indian, tonight, so that is too dark!”

Followed by Truman’s deep trademark laugh.

“Let me get another.”

 

He dug around in, what appeared to be a fishing tackle box, and pulled out another steroid drugged tube. He squeezed some out on the other hand, and rubbed some on the other side of my face. I, so far, sat silent and apprehensive.

“That looks much better, turn around and look. What do you think?” Truman asks.

I turn towards the mirror, look at both cheeks, and say;

“The last one matches better, but I just don’t like the idea of wearing make-up, Truman. Is it something I have to do?”

Truman laughed under his breath, signs and says;

“Only if you want to be seen, Daniel.” …and continues

“That theater is a barn. If you don’t project, they will never hear you. If you don’t wear make-up, they will never see your face. You will have a flat face, and nobody will be able to see you act.”

Hum, OK, I hadn’t thought about it that way. I very much wanted everyone in the theater to see me, that is like the whole point… of acting… being seen!

“OK” I said. “I hadn’t really thought about it, like that, before.” Then, for some odd reason, I opened up to Truman and told him something I had never told a teacher or anyone outside my family.

“I mean, I get picked on enough, I just don’t want to get beat up for wearing make-up.”

 

There was a noticeable ‘catch’ in Truman’s breathing, yes he had heard me and understood. He just looked at me, with those huge deep eyes and said;

“Anyone that picks on you, or makes fun of you, for wearing make-up in a play is just stupid. Ignore them.”

He was right, I had heard similar from my father. Seems bullies just don’t mind being “stupid”.

Shortly after the last bell, everyone started showing up. There was great hustle and bustle, back stage, and there was an energy forming in that theater. As the afternoon wore into evening and curtain time drew closer, that energy became palatable. I wasn’t the only one that felt it, either. You could see the energy in most everyone’s eyes, and heard it in their voices. A mixture of anxiousness and glee that, I soon discovered, was intoxicating.

As people filed into the theater, I was taught some new lessons. First, never look out at the audience and be seen! That was poor form. Second, you never wish an actor before a performance “Good Luck”, it is “Good Show” or “Break-A-Leg”. Good luck resulted in bad luck. Last, and most important, be quite. When you are off stage (during a performance) you don’t make a sound. No talking, no “horse play”, this was serious business.

“Five minutes!’” We hear Truman say, back stage.

No one responds. Actually, for a second, I think everyone froze. Wherever we were, what ever we were doing, we froze. We were five minutes from the start of a show we had all worked on for months. We were in make-up (surprisingly, to some of us), in costume, we knew our lines, we knew our blocking and we knew our ques. This was no dress rehearsal; people had actually paid to see us perform. I wasn’t nervous, but my heart was sure getting loud in my chest.

I stepped outside the theater and into the hallway by the band hall. Just then Truman walked by, with the cast following him quietly.

“Follow us, Daniel.” Truman said, as he passed me. He had a smile on his face, that could have lit up the city of New York it was so bright. There was a bounce in his step, a smile on his face, and a power in his heart that (not known to me, yet) he was about to share with all of us. The entire cast was now in the band hall, and we were forming a circle holding hands. There was that darned electricity, again, it was thick with us all in the band hall. I swear I could feel my hair standing on end, like in a lightning storm. The rumbling of Truman’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

“We only have a couple of moments, but I wanted to call you all in here and share something with you.”

We were all feeling it, and small conversations broke out around the circle. Then Truman began, again;

“There is a tradition I learned, in theater. A tradition that teaches us that, tonight, we are unique. Tonight we are the best at this play in the entire world. We are unique in that no one else on the planet can do this play the way we do. And that uniqueness gives us magic. There is magic, in the theater. And the theater is magic.”

 

OK If there is a single person, in that room right then, that didn’t have goose bumps, and I would very much be surprised! We were all smiling so big, and so hard. I remember, going home later that night, my checks were so very sore. We stood in that circle, now, and repeated after Truman.

“There is magic, in the theater. And, the theater is magic!”

If we had all started lifting off the ground, at that moment, I honestly don’t think anyone would have been surprised. We, all, felt it now and a lot of us felt light headed. I know I did. We stopped chanting and threw our arms up together in one final “Magic!” Then, we orderly and quietly moved back into the theater and took our places.

“One minute, everyone, ONE MINUTE!” Truman’s voice rumbled backstage, yet not loud enough to be heard by the audience now being seated.

While everyone else was filing back into the theater, I ran as fast as I could to the water fountain by the choir room. I drank deep and long, I as 16 and I wasn’t about to have my voice break on my first line of my high school acting career. The water, well it didn’t want to stay. I dashed into the Boy’s bathroom. Urinal. Out.

As I am running (literally running from the glass double doors to the stage door downstage right of the theater) past the band hall, I hear the opening threads of the show! I have about, ten seconds to get in place, or I am going to miss my very first performance que! I pass the last doors into the theater, I can hear the orchestra clearly now, and whip a right into the doors of the backstage entrance.

I am so lucky, two people are standing at the doors holding them open talking. Now, they weren’t supposed to be doing that, but I was very happy. I darted into the double doors, jumped up the stairs onto the stage. Now, I move briskly but quietly into place downstage right, where the apron meets the curtain. As I step into place, I hear it.

My que! Dawn is arguing with the man she is with, and she gets pushed into a (fake) lake. I jump out onto a bench onstage and say;

“There’s a girl down in the lake, I think she is drowning”

 

I turn out towards the audience, as I point into the orchestra pit, and I hear the audience laughing. Laughing loudly… Laughing loudly for a long time, and no one is speaking. Everything starts slowing down, now, in my memory and in that moment. The theater is cold, just like ‘Docs’ classroom, it is cold in the theater and it is cold on stage.

Suddenly, I feel… a breeze. Yeah, let’s say a breeze. I feel coolness where, it shouldn’t be. I feel a breeze and my pants are getting cold. I look down. Now, remember, this is my very first line in front of a paying audience.

And I look down, at my fly. And, my fly. Is down. I don’t panic, that’s the rule. So, I look back up, at the audience. I look down at my fly, and I pull it up. I look back up, at the audience, and give them a sheepish grin and shrug my shoulders. Then I turn, back upstage, to the student with the next line. Not missing a beat, budump-bump.

He didn’t have a chance, the boy with the next line, because the audience came unglued. I just stood there, looking upstage left, holding my breath. They laughed so hard, and for so long, and we all just stood there and waited. Dawn was in the pit, and she was smiling at me… really smiling. The boy, on stage, who had the next line was just standing there, smiling. And the audience laughed and clapped.

Shortly, it died down, and the play went on. As soon as the curtain went down on that scene, I was mobbed back stage. I had created quite a stir, going on stage with my fly down and then pulling it up in front of the audience. I was, now, the ‘Bad Boy’ of the play. The attention died quickly; as each person was called on to perform. That night, a hand full of people changed. They touched another reality, one they helped create. The show went without a single hitch, beyond my ‘Wardrobe Malfunction’.

That night, there were ‘Notes’. We didn’t often get ‘Notes’ after a performance, but tonight we were getting notes. I was sweating bullets. I mean, really, I walked out on stage with my fly down. Would I even have a role in the play, after tonight?

We gathered on the apron and the first two rows of seats. A lot of people were pointing at me, and laughing. I would have been embarrassed, but it was just too funny to me. Truman and Doc came down, and sat in the first row.

The first comments were from Doc, for Dawn, something about staging for getting out of the pit in act one. Then Truman had some notes, for people not projecting well enough. There was snickering at each pause, and these two guys just kept looking at me and laughing. Then it was time for Truman’s notes.

“Daniel, in act one scene one, you had a problem with your fly?”

It was like someone uncorked a juvenile genie and the laughter just came pouring out. Now everyone is laughing and going

“Way to go, Daniel!”

I look over, and see that Doc and Truman are laughing, too. I am not bothered; don’t get me wrong, strangely I am not that embarrassed. The laughter is dying down, when Truman speaks.

“Doc and I agreed, keep it. Keep the bit with the zipper.”

 

The cast just breaks into uproarious laughter and kudos. I get slapped on the back enumerable times, and that night, my very first performance? Is a cameo performance. Then Doc spoke to me;

“I remember I told you to speak up and make an impression. I guess that Daniel is listening to my notes.”

Another wave of laughter passes over the cast. A huge weight lifts from my shoulders, and I could feel from the cast, too. I don’t think anyone in the cast wanted me to get into trouble, for my wardrobe problem, they just wanted to laugh about it and share in some of the fun. I am relieved by how Truman and Doc reacted. Honestly, I’m not really surprised, it was a mistake, right?

I had ‘Doc’ ask me that very question, later that year. I’ll tell you what I told Doc. “I’m not saying, I don’t want to get into trouble.” Doc laughed.

This brings us to the end of this episode ‘Daniel the Freshman’.

 

Be sure to come back on Wednesday for the next Episode of ‘The Story of Daniel’.

 

Thank you, for your kindness and support.

Great and honest review! Thanks

Just a super post about Titan. Thanks!

Very informative article by a fellow blogger here at Word Press.

Trouble In Paradise

It has been far too long since I have posted, and I owe you all an explanation. Since July 13 I have been running a funding campaign, to help me get a Power Chair, at Indiegogo. I use this blog to share stories from my past, articles about the Curiosity mission on Mars, political articles and recipes. I have been using Facebook and my 100 ‘Friends’ to promote this blog, and by extension the Power Chair campaign. That was, until October 12th.

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This Friday was the end of a very frustrating and exhausting week. I expressed myself via a piece named ‘And The Worm Turns’. I went onto Facebook to promote this new article, like I have on a regular basis for two years, and Facebook will not allow me to post links to this blog. I try a different computer. I try my HTC EVO 4G. I post what has happened on Facebook. I plunge headlong into a deep depression. The Other Shoe IS me. This blog is how I self identify. I am too disabled to do anything else, and there are people that like what I write… I think there are… Otherwise this is one trippy monologue!

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I eventually call an 800 number for Facebook technical support, in India. They were quite polite and informed me “one or more of your friends reported your blog as being spammy...” as why I am not allowed to promote this blog anymore. If I cannot promote my blog via social networking, well I just don’t understand how that would work. I have a good friend, he is a very good friend. He has told me not to talk about this, that it just makes the person/people that have done this feel good. Honestly, if doing this to me… in my condition… makes you feel good… You are without hope. Nothing I do or don’t do is going to make a difference to a person that would take away… One sick puppy.
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Dear readers; I so fricking cherish you. I really am trying to get back to writing. Don’t think I don’t remember where we left off in ‘The Story of Daniel’. We are all about to spend the night in Pearland Funeral Home. It was to be a great story for Halloween, which is why I was writing this episode now… until. So, Dear Readers, I am reaching out to you.

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What should I DO? I have the ‘Other’ The Other Shoe over @ Word Press. It doesn’t look as nice. The library of articles is only 40, I have 127 here and it doesn’t post as nice to Facebook. Also? What if the putz, that kicked a disabled guy to begin with, just reports the SECOND The Other Shoe that seems kind of futile?

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So, any thoughts… PLEASE add a comment… message me on Facebook… send a pigeon, anything. I really want to continue because I really enjoy telling you stories and showing you Mars, and sharing my recipes… I LIKE  that.

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Seven days left to Daniel’s Moving Assistance Fund, Please give?

Thanks.

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="220"] Daniel's Moving Assistance Fund[/caption]

And The Worm TURNS!

You would think I would be happy... fracking flipping fantastically happy! You wouldn't think I was sitting here, alone, crying in the dark. You wouldn't think that my phone was playing REM and Bruce all day... but it was. You seriously Wouldn't think that tears were rolling down my cheeks as I write this, but they are and I am. The slim moments of relief, from having pushed a huge fucking bolder up a hill, every single day, for three months. I was convinced  at times, that the pain I felt when people I loved promised to help, yet walked away with back turned without giving a care.

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[caption id="attachment_231" align="aligncenter" width="300"] This is a shot of Darrell and Danny in about 1966. We visited Galveston via the old ferry, that day and had steak that night. It was a great day.[/caption]

(When... Why, did your hand leave mine?)

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I thought that pain would kill me, until today. Today the momentary relief was replaced with a greater sense of loss than any I have ever known. Than I have ever known... I awoke to a world of terror and pain... twice now, in this life... alone both times.... Now, a new fresh hell has throw itself at my feet and dared me to pass. I just wanted to relax, I just wanted some measure of peace... it was not meant to be. In the growing lonelyness that comes with each dusk, I found my new fear, at the foot of my bed, just waiting there with baited breath. A terror, a fear, that has gripped my very soul.

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[caption id="attachment_184" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Danny and Darrell in 1959, I am the Blonde Driving[/caption]

(I used to look over my shoulder, and you were right there...)

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All this time... all these days without rest and nights without sleep... all this... writing. Oh, Jesus people, do you have any idea... do you have any clue what it is like? What it is like to RELIVE THOSE TIMES? Between 1971 and 1977 I tried to kill myself three times. You didn't know about that, did you... Bobby... Russell... Joe. You all knew 'Dan' so well... Reeaallly? Seriously? You knew me? You knew the pain it was to come from a broken family? You knew the pain of a brother, back from Vietnam... but broken? You know this pain?

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(Danny, Ken and Darrell... His Three Sons)

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...going back... You asked me to go back... I barely made it out, the first time. But, hey, let's go back to Pearland! ROFLMAO The daily bullies, the bus rides from hell, the humiliation and rejection... isn't that what every America wants.? To live, then retell? Before I started, before I sat before these keyboards and opened these flood gates? There was a dark hole, over my shoulder, looking back. I was comfortable, with what was there, just as long as it stayed there! Now, I have willingly walked into it's trap.

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[caption id="attachment_183" align="aligncenter" width="280"] Darrell and Kenny Ray Playing on the Old Buick[/caption]

 

(What... what did I do to drive you all away?)

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I almost made it, too. I almost made it through the insane torture that was my freshman year. I made it through the theatrical debacle that was 'Bye Bye Birdie' (great memories there... some damn fine young men I had the great pleasure to work with... damn fine men... Leo...) Then it came to.... Doc leaving my side. Than is when the darkness enveloped me, all around. Nobody else sees it, nobody else knows its there, but it is. It reaches out from inside me, where it has been lying quietly for years and years. Hell, even a blow from a falling (not flying) typewriter couldn't keep me from this destiny.

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I was only 16 years old, and I was loosing my second father in as many years. Not only that? I was asked... asked because... I didn't write it there... I did not want anyone to know... the shame. Doc had written and asked... Doc had made this last request... in the moments before he died, he asked. He reached out, from nearest the grave, and made a request. A request of repose. And in his last breath, he asked that these two... these two young men, take a night out of their lives... and to sit in repose. And they said "No thanks..."

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[caption id="attachment_187" align="aligncenter" width="286"] Danny in 1963[/caption]

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NO THANKS?!! This man, he gave you a life worth living! He gave, of himself, every single day... and yet from some dark place... some place of arrogant entitlement... and you say "No thanks" to THIS MAN!?! They had no problem eating his food... riding or driving his car... they had no problem taking his money and time... but, in the end, they had no time, for Doc. No time for Doc... the man who always had time for us! It burns inside me to this day, yet my tongue I will hold.

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The next day, at the funeral  they were seen. Long after that night's vigil was done, the duty of honor discharged by another, you both did show you faces. I saw them, there. Only from a distance, could I see, but you both were there... smiling and chumming, as though nothing was wrong.

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I made it to that point... that really is, pretty far. If only you knew, just how the beatings made the days pass so slowly. Yet, I went back. Back into that darkness, behind me, just for your support. I had my back to a wall, you knew that, right? I had just spent eight months of time, days of appointments and doctors and examinations.

"Just one more poke, right here... Just one more measurement and twist and turn... just one more humiliation at our hands, and you will be done..."

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For month after month I endured and kept calmly quiet. All along, I knew. I knew that I was too poor. I knew that I no longer made the rich, richer, as i did before. I knew that another hand, theirs, had left mine... as well. I know that I stand alone.

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So, back into the darkness I must go. To pull fairy dust from bones. Again, why is it me?

Daniel's Angels Addendum II

Daniel’s Angels Addendum

Once, every so often things happen (good things) in, like, a row. Today, that is happening. Oui, I don’t want to, like, move… and mess this up. However, I Have To Work and bring to you, my Dear Readers, this next Daniel’s Angel!

Jason Kleppinger Atlantic, Iowa

“Thanks, Jason!”
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SO… WHO IS NEXT?!?!? I am going to be up for the next SIX HOURS… How many names can I make Angels?
Will it be YOURS?
Thanks!

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="220"] Daniel's Moving Assistance Fund[/caption]

Daniel's Angels

Daniel’s Angels

 

Today I was the recipient of two extremely generous contributions. The first, took us to within striking distance of $6,000.00.

Then, I put out a ‘call’, via Facebook, for someone to make the fateful contribution to take us over this final goal in the last hours of this campaign.

Great for me, they have picked the ‘All Around Shout-Out’ and here I am to honor said Shout-Out!

 

Kathye Warfield Rogers  (Pearland, Texas)

Greg Warfield                 (Pearland, Texas)

 

KUDOS! And, “Thank You” for your generosity and kindness. There are few hours left, to the Power Chair Campaign so, get YOUR ‘Shout-Out’, too!

 

Thanks!

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="220"] Daniel's Moving Assistance Fund[/caption]

Power Chair Update - I Wrote President Obama and He Helped!

 I Wrote President Obama and He Helped!

This week was a terrible week for my funding campaigns, but I did have closure with the letter I wrote the President. If you didn’t read about it, before, I wrote President Obama about the difficulties I was having with ‘Medicare Authorized Vendors’ in my area that supply ‘power chairs’. Both told me,, that I qualified for the benefit, that I was disabled enough for the benefit and that they really wanted to sell me a power chair. However, (and both said the exact same thing)

        “It is your doctor’s fault; he is not providing the documentation we need… (for an audit!)…”

[As I explained to President Obama, these Vendors are using the AUDIT standard for procurement. It is NOT how Medicare designed the benefit, but these vendors are using the two standards (Purchase and Audit) to weed out Medicare beneficiaries]

 

Therefore, I am revisiting this issue because there has been movement since I wrote last. Yes, since my last campaign update I have seen ‘the ball move’ on my power chair benefit from Medicare and I simply must tell you all about it… ;)

 

This first image is the first page of the letter I sent to President Obama. Now, for all my detractors; I was writing this letter to illicit a response, to get a reaction, to get assistance and one simply must garner ‘mutual respect and admiration’ (in a letter) to gain the type of answer I wanted, and eventually received. Go ahead, take a read… I will just wait here…

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[caption id="attachment_415" align="aligncenter" width="189"] Page One of My Letter To President Obama. In this letter I tried to ask for assistance, from President Obama, in getting the power chair my doctor prescribed and my neurologist and neurosurgeon BOTH told me will keep me from paraplegia or death.[/caption]

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This first page is introductory in nature. I have written the President, before, so I was introducing my situation and building ‘mutual respect and admiration’. The last paragraph begins the chronology of my disease… actually, just the past few years of the disease. I wish he could read Daniel's Disability and How it All Began then President Obama would have a very good idea of exactly how long I have fought this disability. He would also have a very good idea of how hard I have fought to get every treatment I have received. Now, I am in desperate need for a power chair and to be able to use the power chair in my day-to-day life.

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The second page of the letter covers all the bases. I finish my explanation of my condition and medical necessity for the power chair. I elaborate on the roadblocks I have encountered, with my doctor, to getting the mobility device approved and delivered to me. Let me take a moment to make an aside: Dr. Laurence Gorlick of Pro Health Partners @ Los Alamitos Medical Center is the single most; professional, proficient, detailed oriented, physician I have ever met in my entire life… and I had Liz Taylor’s neurosurgeon (before I was fired… for doing my job… and lost everything).

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[caption id="attachment_416" align="aligncenter" width="187"] Page Two of My Letter to President Obama[/caption]

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This is the final page; I include the URL for my Power Chair Campaign my email address and a closing salutation.

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[caption id="attachment_417" align="aligncenter" width="237"] Page Three of My Letter to President Obama[/caption]

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Finally, for the letter part, here is the ‘Return Receipt’ card signed for by ‘The White House’ received on July 25^th, 2012. Kind of make note of that day, it is kind of important, later.  

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[caption id="attachment_418" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Return Recpt Card from THE WHITE HOUSE[/caption]

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Now, for the update! Yesterday, September 27^th, I received a call from a representative from Health and Human Services Overseeing Medicare. (This would be the Cabinet Office of President Obama that oversees Medicare) The woman that called me; had already read my whole three page letter, had looked up my file and familiarized herself with everything I have been through since May 2003, and really was prepared to help me any way she could help.

 

She couldn’t understand why the two companies had refused my a power chair, when I (and my doctor) had demonstrated a genuine medical need to both Medicare providers. An investigation, of these two Medicare Vendors, has been started and they will be questioned on their handling of my claim. They are going to research and see if there is any way that they can override the process, with one of the providers, and get me the power chair (Hi, this is _____ from Health and Human Services… yes, it seems you gave the shaft to this client… well, we can pull all your Medicare authorizations for the past twenty years… or, yes… as a matter of fact Mr. Hanning does STILL need a power chair…) Only in my dreams.

 

So, I have ran the Daniel’s Power Chair Assistance Fund, for the past two months, in an effort to raise the money for a power chair (configured the way I need it) and the money to move to a place where I can use the power chair by myself. I currently live in a building, on the second floor, that has no elevator. It is also full to the brim, now, with drug dealers and drug addicts. In just the past two, out of eight I have been here, there have been two shootings (resulting in deaths) and one riot.

I am desperate to not be alone in this building, riding my power chair. I, at first, just tried to expand the first campaign (Daniel’s Power Chair Assistance Fund) but people did not give any more than $600 over the original goal. I understand, you see the green line all the way over, and there really is no need “he met his goal!”. I thought about it the other way, the ‘bus lady’ way… she started her campaign (that we all saw on Nightly News) @ $5,000 for a nice vacation. She ended up, after 90 days, with $680,000.00 and a new car, and a new home and retirement paid for… in full.

I never expected that from either of my Indiegogo campaigns, never in a million years.

However, I had hoped to meet the goals of both campaigns. I am going to keep working as hard as my disability will allow to provide; stories, and entertainment, and information and recipes to give you motivation to help me, help myself.

 

Thank you, for your generosity and kindness in this, my time of need!

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[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="220"] Daniel's Moving Assistance Fund[/caption]