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After a couple of weeks they sent me by plane across the Atlantic to Long Island where I stayed seven days in a hospital. Then I was transferred to McCloskey General Hospital in Temple [TX} where I was allowed to use the phone.

The very first thing I wanted to do was call Home and tell them I was getting along okay and get the kids to come over and see me

Well, sir, I've told you repeatedly about how lucky I was all along  Well, when they fixed up my leg over in England they told me I'd have to wear the cast they put on for at least six months.  Now. that’s something you don’t do much gripin’ about when you feel that the Lord has already stretch [sic] several points in your favor. Nevertheless, by the time that cast began to have such an odor that the guys started calling me “stinky,” why I was ready to be rid of it.  But the doctors and everybody told me not to get out of bed. I guess I must have walked in my sleep.  ! just know that I’d never deliberately have gotten out of bed if I had wide awake!  Anyway, somehow I was out of bed and fell and broke the cast on my leg. That was on August 17th, just six weeks (not six months) after the cast had been put on in England.

On August. 18th they took off the cast, and while it was off they decided to X-Ray my leg and see how I was doin’. Were they surprised? It was healing so rapidly and was already so well knitted that they did not even put another cast on my leg. Just a steel brace which I could take off some of the time in bed.

I'm telling you, fate kind of batted us Daniels kids around in the early days of our lives. Took Mother and Dad away from us. Left us without home or any way to get along together as a family. There were seven of us. I being the oldest one of the tribe. I was twelve then, and Lisette was a little more than a year old. Our plight was brought to the attention of the Methodist Home at Waco, and they agreed to take us in as a family. Frankly. I remember that I did not then relish the idea of going into an “orphanage” as we then thought of the Methodist Home. But, it did kept us together and that was a godsend to us.

Well, I want to tell all of you that the Methodist Home is not an “orphanage."  It is a Home.  A real Home where the kids of a big family like mine can live and grow up together. Where we come to know that there is lots of love in the hearts of folks like you for kids like all of us who are proud to call the Methodist Home our Home.

Believe me. I’ve been thru some pretty rugged spots since I left Home. I've been shoulder-to-shoulder with guys from all sorts of families' and homes Some rich ones. Some poor ones. Some with brothers and sisters and mothers and dads, and all that. They'd show me pictures of their folks and 'hen- homes, and stuff like that. And I want you to know that I could show them my pictures of my family and my Home with real pride.

Listen out there I got a chance to do some thinking of my own. Figuring things out. Using my noodle like we are taught to use ’em here at Horne. All I’ve got to say is that we Americans make good soldiers and good citizens because we’re tied onto something real. Our homes. Our folks. Our country. Our way of living. Gee, you just don’t get to know what our way of living is really like until you’ve seen how the people in other countries live.

I know that you folks who read The Sunshine are the ones who are mostly responsible for the Home and its provisions for my family and the 100 other kids who are living such happy and useful lives here. Now that I'm back. I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you for what your generosity and decency have meant to me and my own brothers and sisters.

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