ALS ice challenge
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20-08-2014, 03:21 PM
RE: ALS ice challenge
(20-08-2014 01:45 PM)TwoCultSurvivor Wrote:  
(20-08-2014 12:39 PM)Cathym112 Wrote:  How sad for humanity if a gimmick is required for people to donate. No

But it's reality. We need a walkathon. We need a telethon. We need a bake sale. We need cookies. We need an impetus.

Do you know how much planning it takes the ALS Association in South Florida to put on a walkathon? You need to recruit sponsors, recruit walkers, secure a venue, line up entertainment, print T-shirts.... And the same goes for any other charity doing any similar event.

The cost of the ice bucket challenge is SOOOOOO much closer to $0.00

The only overhead is the bucket, right before the drop.

I agree! I still think it's sad that it's the reality that people need reasons to give. No

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20-08-2014, 03:27 PM (This post was last modified: 20-08-2014 03:48 PM by TwoCultSurvivor.)
RE: ALS ice challenge
I wish.

I just wish you guys knew. I wish you understood what those of us who have lived through this thing from the moment of diagnosis until the moment you say goodbye, what this disease does. It is just so damn lonely.

I got married on July 6, 2007. My sister Diane was there, dancing up a storm with the rest of us. We didn't know yet. That weekend, she went to Orlando with my aunt, and as they took a walk in her neighborhood, Diane fell down. It was just so strange. My aunt later described it to me: one moment they were walking together, and the next Diane was on the ground, laughing at her "clumsiness." One of her legs just lost the ability to hold her up. Moments later she was up and they walked back to the house.

Then came the doctor's visits and the tests and the questions and the examinations. She had just gotten married herself, a few months earlier, to a wonderful man named Paul. Together, in September, they learned the news.

My mother was the first to tell me. Mom's not too savvy about these things. She thought a vitamin regimen might turn things around. If only. Imagine telling your 70-year-old mom that she would likely outlive her firstborn daughter. I told her that. Two to five years, I said. Maybe a little longer, but not likely, and if it was longer, the quality of her life would deteriorate into something we could not bear to watch.

My mom and I live in Florida (separately), and my sister lived in New Jersey. In April 2008, I participated in my first ALS Walk. My sister came down to be a part of it. Already, her ability to walk was all but gone. She could take steps, not strides. We moved her around in an awesome wheelchair provided by the association. She laughed! Diane was the biggest potty mouth you ever met. She would say that when she found out she got Lou Gehrig's disease, she was angry. Not because it was fatal, but because she never fucked him.

I think we raised about $5,000 in her honor. She stepped out of the wheelchair to cross the finish line. It was awesome! It was also the last time I ever saw her walk.

We recruited students from the middle school where my wife works and the dance studio her family owns, and they put on a performance for all the walkers and their families. And at an inappropriate moment, when other things were going on, they stole the spotlight by gathering around my sister and singing. "I Will Survive." And she sang along with them. And it was beautiful.

But after a while, that kind of attention dies down. She still got visitors. I went to see her in January 2009, a few weeks before my first son was born. She never got to meet him. I landed in Atlantic City the same morning that plane taking off from LaGuardia Airport landed in the Hudson River. My plane lost my luggage (temporarily. I got it back later). I didn't mind so much. I spent a few days with Diane. She could no longer walk at all. But she could laugh and tell dirty jokes and wish me luck on becoming a father for the first time.

I tried to raise money for ALS again that year. All the goodwill from the previous year was gone. I raised a couple of hundred dollars. That was it.

Diane gained some notoriety in New York and New Jersey by becoming an advocate for medical marijuana.

But most days, it was just her and Paul, and the home health aide that the ALS Association helped pay for. I can't put a number on how much they helped her. Paul probably could, at least in cold financial terms.

I called her often. She saw pictures of my son on Facebook. She marveled at how much he looked like me, and asked (for some reason I'll never know) if his huevos were okay. That's Spanish slang for balls. She wanted to know if my son was going to satisfy the ladies when his time came. That was my potty-mouthed sister.

In August 2012 we realized the end was near. I called her one last time. I can't even remember the conversation anymore. Can you believe that?

And in those five years, I was never again able to raise any significant amount of money for ALS. No matter how hard I tried, it just wouldn't happen.

My mother went to see her. She and Paul were with Diane until the end. No one else was there. Just the three of them.

August 31, 2012. I was getting ready to leave work. My family was going to a Marlins baseball game that night. My cell phone rang. It was my mom. She called to warn me. It was close. She called again 20 minutes later.

"She's gone."

We went to the game anyway. She would have raked me over the coals if I kept my boys away from the ballpark that night! Pretty sure my team lost that night. I have no idea about the ballgame.

It was just so damn lonely.

There was no gimmick in the last five years of her life to bring awareness to ALS to the point that it dominated the Facebook walls of every Internet user in the country. I couldn't even raise enough money to get some local sap a wheelchair. No one was talking about it. No one gave except those who did so quietly. No one announced to the world that they were making a donation. No one encouraged others to join them.

Dammit, I wish I could make you guys feel this. I really do. Her name was Diane! She didn't deserve to have her life cut short for no damn reason! She deserved to meet her nephews. She deserved to visit us in Florida, to stay with us, to celebrate birthdays and to lavish my boys with kisses and to embarrass them with her pottymouth the way she embarrassed everyone she ever met, from priest to Navy sailor!

And suddenly, about two weeks ago, ALS popped up on my Facebook page, and it's been on my page every day since then. And my inability to raise a damn DIME for this disease became an ability to raise $450 for a two-minute video, not including the people who met my challenge and extended it to others. The same people who ignored me before are now opening their wallets, embarrassing themselves, recruiting new donors. I just learned that my friend, who accepted my challenge, got his company to match his donation.

That doesn't happen without this stupid damn gimmick.

Everyone is talking about ALS! FINALLY!

And Diane can't hear it.

But I can. I hear it. And I just want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, everyone who participated in this stupid stunt, whether you gave, poured or both. Hell, I even want to thank the naysayers who second-guess the ice bucket challenge and give me an opportunity to explain why, dammit, it brings some of us just a second of joy not to be ignored or pitied in silence anymore!

Dammit, I wish I could make you see it, feel it.

Maybe Diane could. Just one more time.




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20-08-2014, 03:33 PM
RE: ALS ice challenge
(20-08-2014 03:27 PM)TwoCultSurvivor Wrote:  I wish.

I just wish you guys knew. I wish you understood what those of us who have lived through this thing from the moment of diagnosis until the moment you say goodbye, what this disease does. It is just so damn lonely.

I got married on July 6, 2007. My sister Diane was there, dancing up a storm with the rest of us. We didn't know yet. That weekend, she went to Orlando with my aunt, and as they took a walk in her neighborhood, Diane fell down. It was just so strange. My aunt later described it to me: one moment they were walking together, and the next Diane was on the ground, laughing at her "clumsiness." One of her legs just lost the ability to hold her up. Moments later she was up and they walked back to the house.

Then came the doctor's visits and the tests and the questions and the examinations. She had just gotten married herself, a few months earlier, to a wonderful man named Paul. Together, in September, they learned the news.

My mother was the first to tell me. Mom's not too savvy about these things. She thought a vitamin regimen might turn things around. If only. Imagine telling your 70-year-old mom that she would likely outlive her firstborn daughter. I told her that. Two to five years, I said. Maybe a little longer, but not likely, and if it was longer, the quality of her life would deteriorate into something we could not bear to watch.

My mom and I live in Florida (separately), and my sister lived in New Jersey. In April 2008, I participated in my first ALS Walk. My sister came down to be a part of it. Already, her ability to walk was all but gone. She could take steps, not strides. We moved her around in an awesome wheelchair provided by the association. She laughed! Diane was the biggest potty mouth you ever met. She would say that when she found out she got Lou Gehrig's disease, she was angry. Not because it was fatal, but because she never fucked him.

I think we raised about $5,000 in her honor. It was awesome! We recruited students from the middle school where my wife works and the dance studio her family owns, and they put on a performance for all the walkers and their families. And at an inappropriate moment, when other things were going on, they stole the spotlight by gathering around my sister and singing. "I Will Survive." And she sang along with them. And it was beautiful.

But after a while, that kind of attention dies down. She still got visitors. I went to see her in January 2009, a few weeks before my first son was born. She never got to meet him. I landed in Atlantic City the same morning that plane taking off from LaGuardia Airport landed in the Hudson River. My plane lost my luggage (temporarily. I got it back later). I didn't mind so much. I spent a few days with Diane. She could no longer walk at all. But she could laugh and tell dirty jokes and wish me luck on becoming a father for the first time.

I tried to raise money for ALS again that year. All the goodwill from the previous year was gone. I raised a couple of hundred dollars. That was it.

Diane gained some notoriety in New York and New Jersey by becoming an advocate for medical marijuana.

But most days, it was just her and Paul, and the home health aide that the ALS Association helped pay for. I can't put a number on how much they helped her. Paul probably could, at least in cold financial terms.

I called her often. She saw pictures of my son on Facebook. She marveled at how much he looked like me, and asked (for some reason I'll never know) if his huevos were okay. That's Spanish slang for balls. She wanted to know if my son was going to satisfy the ladies when his time came. That was my potty-mouthed sister.

In August 2012 we realized the end was near. I called her one last time. I can't even remember the conversation anymore. Can you believe that?

And in those five years, I was never again able to raise any significant amount of money for ALS. No matter how hard I tried, it just wouldn't happen.

My mother went to see her. She and Paul were with Diane until the end. No one else was there. Just the three of them.

August 31, 2012. I was getting ready to leave work. My family was going to a Marlins baseball game that night. My cell phone rang. It was my mom. She called to warn me. It was close. She called again 20 minutes later.

"She's gone."

We went to the game anyway. She would have raked me over the coals if I kept my boys away from the ballpark that night! Pretty sure my team lost that night. I have no idea about the ballgame.

It was just so damn lonely.

There was no gimmick in the last five years of her life to bring awareness to ALS to the point that it dominated the Facebook walls of every Internet user in the country. I couldn't even raise enough money to get some local sap a wheelchair. No one was talking about it. No one gave except those who did so quietly. No one announced to the world that they were making a donation. No one encouraged others to join them.

Dammit, I wish I could make you guys feel this. I really do. Her name was Diane! She didn't deserve to have her life cut short for no damn reason! She deserved to meet her nephews. She deserved to visit us in Florida, to stay with us, to celebrate birthdays and to lavish my boys with kisses and to embarrass them with her pottymouth the way she embarrassed everyone she ever met, from priest to Navy sailor!

And suddenly, about two weeks ago, ALS popped up on my Facebook page, and it's been on my page every day since then. And my inability to raise a damn DIME for this disease became an ability to raise $450 for a two-minute video, not including the people who met my challenge and extended it to others. The same people who ignored me before are now opening their wallets, embarrassing themselves, recruiting new donors. I just learned that my friend, who accepted my challenge, got his company to match his donation.

That doesn't happen without this stupid damn gimmick.

Everyone is talking about ALS! FINALLY!

And Diane can't hear it.

But I can. I hear it. And I just want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, everyone who participated in this stupid stunt, whether you gave, poured or both. Hell, I even want to thank the naysayers who second-guess the ice bucket challenge and give me an opportunity to explain why, dammit, it brings some of us just a second of joy not to be ignored or pitied in silence anymore!

Dammit, I wish I could make you see it, feel it.

Maybe Diane could. Just one more time.




Hug

(31-07-2014 04:37 PM)Luminon Wrote:  America is full of guns, but they're useless, because nobody has the courage to shoot an IRS agent in self-defense
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20-08-2014, 03:39 PM
RE: ALS ice challenge
For the ALS Association:
https://secure2.convio.net/alsa/site/Don...tion=form1

For Augie's Quest:

https://augiesquest.als.net/donate/

Feel free to research both organizations and give to whichever you see fit.

And if you feel moved to dump a bucket of ice on your head and challenge a couple of people to join you, I'm... I'm not going to stop you. I'm going to thank you.

Thank you.

PM Me if you want my sister's full name to donate in her memory.

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20-08-2014, 05:50 PM
RE: ALS ice challenge
(20-08-2014 03:27 PM)TwoCultSurvivor Wrote:  I wish.

I just wish you guys knew. I wish you understood what those of us who have lived through this thing from the moment of diagnosis until the moment you say goodbye, what this disease does. It is just so damn lonely.

I got married on July 6, 2007. My sister Diane was there, dancing up a storm with the rest of us. We didn't know yet. That weekend, she went to Orlando with my aunt, and as they took a walk in her neighborhood, Diane fell down. It was just so strange. My aunt later described it to me: one moment they were walking together, and the next Diane was on the ground, laughing at her "clumsiness." One of her legs just lost the ability to hold her up. Moments later she was up and they walked back to the house.

Then came the doctor's visits and the tests and the questions and the examinations. She had just gotten married herself, a few months earlier, to a wonderful man named Paul. Together, in September, they learned the news.

My mother was the first to tell me. Mom's not too savvy about these things. She thought a vitamin regimen might turn things around. If only. Imagine telling your 70-year-old mom that she would likely outlive her firstborn daughter. I told her that. Two to five years, I said. Maybe a little longer, but not likely, and if it was longer, the quality of her life would deteriorate into something we could not bear to watch.

My mom and I live in Florida (separately), and my sister lived in New Jersey. In April 2008, I participated in my first ALS Walk. My sister came down to be a part of it. Already, her ability to walk was all but gone. She could take steps, not strides. We moved her around in an awesome wheelchair provided by the association. She laughed! Diane was the biggest potty mouth you ever met. She would say that when she found out she got Lou Gehrig's disease, she was angry. Not because it was fatal, but because she never fucked him.

I think we raised about $5,000 in her honor. She stepped out of the wheelchair to cross the finish line. It was awesome! It was also the last time I ever saw her walk.

We recruited students from the middle school where my wife works and the dance studio her family owns, and they put on a performance for all the walkers and their families. And at an inappropriate moment, when other things were going on, they stole the spotlight by gathering around my sister and singing. "I Will Survive." And she sang along with them. And it was beautiful.

But after a while, that kind of attention dies down. She still got visitors. I went to see her in January 2009, a few weeks before my first son was born. She never got to meet him. I landed in Atlantic City the same morning that plane taking off from LaGuardia Airport landed in the Hudson River. My plane lost my luggage (temporarily. I got it back later). I didn't mind so much. I spent a few days with Diane. She could no longer walk at all. But she could laugh and tell dirty jokes and wish me luck on becoming a father for the first time.

I tried to raise money for ALS again that year. All the goodwill from the previous year was gone. I raised a couple of hundred dollars. That was it.

Diane gained some notoriety in New York and New Jersey by becoming an advocate for medical marijuana.

But most days, it was just her and Paul, and the home health aide that the ALS Association helped pay for. I can't put a number on how much they helped her. Paul probably could, at least in cold financial terms.

I called her often. She saw pictures of my son on Facebook. She marveled at how much he looked like me, and asked (for some reason I'll never know) if his huevos were okay. That's Spanish slang for balls. She wanted to know if my son was going to satisfy the ladies when his time came. That was my potty-mouthed sister.

In August 2012 we realized the end was near. I called her one last time. I can't even remember the conversation anymore. Can you believe that?

And in those five years, I was never again able to raise any significant amount of money for ALS. No matter how hard I tried, it just wouldn't happen.

My mother went to see her. She and Paul were with Diane until the end. No one else was there. Just the three of them.

August 31, 2012. I was getting ready to leave work. My family was going to a Marlins baseball game that night. My cell phone rang. It was my mom. She called to warn me. It was close. She called again 20 minutes later.

"She's gone."

We went to the game anyway. She would have raked me over the coals if I kept my boys away from the ballpark that night! Pretty sure my team lost that night. I have no idea about the ballgame.

It was just so damn lonely.

There was no gimmick in the last five years of her life to bring awareness to ALS to the point that it dominated the Facebook walls of every Internet user in the country. I couldn't even raise enough money to get some local sap a wheelchair. No one was talking about it. No one gave except those who did so quietly. No one announced to the world that they were making a donation. No one encouraged others to join them.

Dammit, I wish I could make you guys feel this. I really do. Her name was Diane! She didn't deserve to have her life cut short for no damn reason! She deserved to meet her nephews. She deserved to visit us in Florida, to stay with us, to celebrate birthdays and to lavish my boys with kisses and to embarrass them with her pottymouth the way she embarrassed everyone she ever met, from priest to Navy sailor!

And suddenly, about two weeks ago, ALS popped up on my Facebook page, and it's been on my page every day since then. And my inability to raise a damn DIME for this disease became an ability to raise $450 for a two-minute video, not including the people who met my challenge and extended it to others. The same people who ignored me before are now opening their wallets, embarrassing themselves, recruiting new donors. I just learned that my friend, who accepted my challenge, got his company to match his donation.

That doesn't happen without this stupid damn gimmick.

Everyone is talking about ALS! FINALLY!

And Diane can't hear it.

But I can. I hear it. And I just want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, everyone who participated in this stupid stunt, whether you gave, poured or both. Hell, I even want to thank the naysayers who second-guess the ice bucket challenge and give me an opportunity to explain why, dammit, it brings some of us just a second of joy not to be ignored or pitied in silence anymore!

Dammit, I wish I could make you see it, feel it.

Maybe Diane could. Just one more time.





Much love and many hugs.

See here they are the bruises some were self-inflicted and some showed up along the way. - JF
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20-08-2014, 07:11 PM
RE: ALS ice challenge
Cheezburger cat seys internet fads is dum.

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20-08-2014, 07:35 PM
RE: ALS ice challenge
LOL.

Ok, that was good.

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21-08-2014, 05:31 AM
RE: ALS ice challenge
(20-08-2014 03:27 PM)TwoCultSurvivor Wrote:  I wish.

I just wish you guys knew. I wish you understood what those of us who have lived through this thing from the moment of diagnosis until the moment you say goodbye, what this disease does. It is just so damn lonely.

I got married on July 6, 2007. My sister Diane was there, dancing up a storm with the rest of us. We didn't know yet. That weekend, she went to Orlando with my aunt, and as they took a walk in her neighborhood, Diane fell down. It was just so strange. My aunt later described it to me: one moment they were walking together, and the next Diane was on the ground, laughing at her "clumsiness." One of her legs just lost the ability to hold her up. Moments later she was up and they walked back to the house.

Then came the doctor's visits and the tests and the questions and the examinations. She had just gotten married herself, a few months earlier, to a wonderful man named Paul. Together, in September, they learned the news.

My mother was the first to tell me. Mom's not too savvy about these things. She thought a vitamin regimen might turn things around. If only. Imagine telling your 70-year-old mom that she would likely outlive her firstborn daughter. I told her that. Two to five years, I said. Maybe a little longer, but not likely, and if it was longer, the quality of her life would deteriorate into something we could not bear to watch.

My mom and I live in Florida (separately), and my sister lived in New Jersey. In April 2008, I participated in my first ALS Walk. My sister came down to be a part of it. Already, her ability to walk was all but gone. She could take steps, not strides. We moved her around in an awesome wheelchair provided by the association. She laughed! Diane was the biggest potty mouth you ever met. She would say that when she found out she got Lou Gehrig's disease, she was angry. Not because it was fatal, but because she never fucked him.

I think we raised about $5,000 in her honor. She stepped out of the wheelchair to cross the finish line. It was awesome! It was also the last time I ever saw her walk.

We recruited students from the middle school where my wife works and the dance studio her family owns, and they put on a performance for all the walkers and their families. And at an inappropriate moment, when other things were going on, they stole the spotlight by gathering around my sister and singing. "I Will Survive." And she sang along with them. And it was beautiful.

But after a while, that kind of attention dies down. She still got visitors. I went to see her in January 2009, a few weeks before my first son was born. She never got to meet him. I landed in Atlantic City the same morning that plane taking off from LaGuardia Airport landed in the Hudson River. My plane lost my luggage (temporarily. I got it back later). I didn't mind so much. I spent a few days with Diane. She could no longer walk at all. But she could laugh and tell dirty jokes and wish me luck on becoming a father for the first time.

I tried to raise money for ALS again that year. All the goodwill from the previous year was gone. I raised a couple of hundred dollars. That was it.

Diane gained some notoriety in New York and New Jersey by becoming an advocate for medical marijuana.

But most days, it was just her and Paul, and the home health aide that the ALS Association helped pay for. I can't put a number on how much they helped her. Paul probably could, at least in cold financial terms.

I called her often. She saw pictures of my son on Facebook. She marveled at how much he looked like me, and asked (for some reason I'll never know) if his huevos were okay. That's Spanish slang for balls. She wanted to know if my son was going to satisfy the ladies when his time came. That was my potty-mouthed sister.

In August 2012 we realized the end was near. I called her one last time. I can't even remember the conversation anymore. Can you believe that?

And in those five years, I was never again able to raise any significant amount of money for ALS. No matter how hard I tried, it just wouldn't happen.

My mother went to see her. She and Paul were with Diane until the end. No one else was there. Just the three of them.

August 31, 2012. I was getting ready to leave work. My family was going to a Marlins baseball game that night. My cell phone rang. It was my mom. She called to warn me. It was close. She called again 20 minutes later.

"She's gone."

We went to the game anyway. She would have raked me over the coals if I kept my boys away from the ballpark that night! Pretty sure my team lost that night. I have no idea about the ballgame.

It was just so damn lonely.

There was no gimmick in the last five years of her life to bring awareness to ALS to the point that it dominated the Facebook walls of every Internet user in the country. I couldn't even raise enough money to get some local sap a wheelchair. No one was talking about it. No one gave except those who did so quietly. No one announced to the world that they were making a donation. No one encouraged others to join them.

Dammit, I wish I could make you guys feel this. I really do. Her name was Diane! She didn't deserve to have her life cut short for no damn reason! She deserved to meet her nephews. She deserved to visit us in Florida, to stay with us, to celebrate birthdays and to lavish my boys with kisses and to embarrass them with her pottymouth the way she embarrassed everyone she ever met, from priest to Navy sailor!

And suddenly, about two weeks ago, ALS popped up on my Facebook page, and it's been on my page every day since then. And my inability to raise a damn DIME for this disease became an ability to raise $450 for a two-minute video, not including the people who met my challenge and extended it to others. The same people who ignored me before are now opening their wallets, embarrassing themselves, recruiting new donors. I just learned that my friend, who accepted my challenge, got his company to match his donation.

That doesn't happen without this stupid damn gimmick.

Everyone is talking about ALS! FINALLY!

And Diane can't hear it.

But I can. I hear it. And I just want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, everyone who participated in this stupid stunt, whether you gave, poured or both. Hell, I even want to thank the naysayers who second-guess the ice bucket challenge and give me an opportunity to explain why, dammit, it brings some of us just a second of joy not to be ignored or pitied in silence anymore!

Dammit, I wish I could make you see it, feel it.

Maybe Diane could. Just one more time.




I'm so sorry for your loss. Totally crying over here.

A little rudeness and disrespect can elevate a meaningless interaction to a battle of wills and add drama to an otherwise dull day - Bill Watterson
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21-08-2014, 10:56 AM
RE: ALS ice challenge
$41.8 million as of this morning.

That's more than $10 million in one day. Not bad for a bunch of people dousing themselves to avoid donating. Wink

Still no word on the difference between "revenue" and "combined revenue" in their annual report.

http://www.alsa.org/news/media/press-rel...82114.html

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22-08-2014, 03:53 PM (This post was last modified: 22-08-2014 03:56 PM by TwoCultSurvivor.)
RE: ALS ice challenge
Ok, I received an answer from the ALS Association, and while it doesn't answer every question I asked, it answers the biggest one. Here it is:

Quote:The $64M you refer to is the combined total of national plus our 38 chapters revenue, and our chapters work almost exclusively on providing services to people and families living with ALS, and they operate as separate 501c3 entities. The number you should be using is the National Office support and revenue, which for FYE 2013 was $25.7 M. Doing the math $6.6M = 25.6 percent of the $25.7M.

Similarly, numbers for FYE2012 for your comparison are $19,042,577 total National revenue and the research amount of $3,904,240 translates to 20.5% for research.

Except for the combined total, the entire annual report is for the National Office. The individual chapters do their own reports.
I hope this is helpful. Sorry for the delay in responding, our inboxes/phone lines are jammed.

Translation: For some reason, and I didn't get an explanation why, part of the annual report adds money raised, maintained and spent by chapters (overwhelmingly for patient services). But the report does not show that such money is never actually received by the national office. On the national level, the relevant numbers are the ones that I cited second, which I'll repeat here:

Page 13 of the 2013 report:
Total support and revenue (all contributions, bequests, etc): $25,744,512
Amount that went to research grants: $6,616,367 (25.7%)
Patient and community services: $5,046,087 (19.6%)
Public and professional education: $8,878,559 (34.4%)
Fundraising: $3,000,946 (11.6%)
Administrative costs: $2,195,742 (8.5%)

***

Page 10 of the 2012 report:

Total support and revenue (all contributions, bequests, etc): $19,042,577
Amount that went to research grants: $3,904,240 (20.5%)
Patient and community services: $4,629,111 (24.3%)
Public and professional education: $1,859,100 (9.7 percent)
Fundraising: $3,269,624 (17.1%)
Administrative costs: $1,773,152 (9.3%)


What's left unanswered in this is: how effective and efficient are the individual CHAPTERS?

But I think a chapter by chapter analysis of this charity, or ANY national charity, is beyond the scope of our little forum here. So if you want to give to the national office, you can be confident it will be a wise decision. If you want to give to a specific chapter, you should check into whether that chapter is individually rated and meets your desire for transparency, etc.

I'm pretty sure I saw something that said Florida's chapter (where I live) does quite well. But there's no need for us to get into that here.

I do not know why the combined set of numbers makes it appear that administrative and fundraising costs are so much higher than they are. I will say that the chapters are the ones that organize the fundraising walks, etc, so it is no surprise that the chapters are the ones spending more on fundraising than the national office.

And, in case you didn't know, the Ice Bucket Challenge has now generated $53.3 million to the ALS Association (national office) alone, compared to $2.2 million for the same period last year, with 1.1 million new people who are dousing themselves with water to avoid... wait, no, I got that wrong: 1.1 million new donors. In the time we've been debating this, nearly $40 million has come in.

This is NOT about people who are avoiding giving. While I'm sure some people fit that description, even if "some people" represent a majority of the videos we're seeing, we are still seeing a massively, massively effective campaign. If this is a flawed strategy, I say we need a few more flawed strategies (to benefit this and other worthy causes).

Religion is proof that invisible men can obscure your vision.
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