Garden Talk

What's for mulch?

Father's Day: David H. Kogen, forever in our hearts

Curtiss Place (Maplewood, N.J.)

I love this photo of my Dad with me and my sister on our front porch. (Dig the twin sailor dresses that my Mom sewed.) Dad absolutely adored us. (You can tell.) I miss his wisdom and rich philosphy of life. He was a straight shooter and could spot a phony a mile away.

I was on a project for American Express when I received the telephone call from my mother that my father died while playing tennis. He was only 58-years old, had just retired, and I was newly engaged. 

I remember screaming when I heard the news, hung up the phone and ran into the ladies' room hysterically crying. An older woman washing her hands asked, "Are you okay, dear?"

I said, "Yes, I'm fine."  

Why did I do that?  I was so NOT fine.  I will always regret that I didn't tell this concerned stranger that I had just learned that my father died and let her comfort me.

I am forever grateful to my incredible colleagues who got me from Washington, D.C. to La Guardia within the hour on that very bleak February day.

I am eternally grateful to my father for instilling in me a love for music, family and the sea. He had a wickedly sharp sense of humor, loved my mother, and was a devoted, hard-working man who learned young, after losing his mother when he was 8-years old, that family reigns supreme. "If there is no peace in a family, there can never be peace in the world." 

My father was a gentleman. He would have been utterly in love with his grandchildren had he had the great fortune to be alive when they were born.

One of the lessons I would like to pass on is this: If you are in need of comfort and someone offers to comfort you, do not be stoic. You will regret that you did not accept the care and love that they wanted to offer in a time of dire need.

The Power of a Perfect Parking Job

Parallel Parking

View from my room at the Marriott Hotel in beautiful downtown White Plains, N.Y. There is a wonderful balance to good parallel parking.

Who ever thought one could find zen in the pattern of cars lined up in a parking lot?

In Limbo

Although we moved last week, we are in limbo between hotel and our new place. It is almost (term used lightly) like we are en vacance.

They say that the limbo began when a couple moved out of their home and lived in a hotel for a few weeks while their floors were getting stained and polyurthened at the new digs. The dance was a way to keep upbeat while they waited for the floors to dry.

Click here. This clip simulates a night at the swinging Marriott in downtown White Plains. (I'm the one in the Frida Kahlo-ish skirt.)

On Moving: On

(Rainy) moving day.

Miraculously, everything lined up perfectly.

Moving on.

On Moving: Tempers

Tempers short.
As long as this: -

Where's the ...

"I packed it," he said. "It's in the box."

"Which box?" she asked as she looked around the room/s. There were many boxes. Stacked high to the ceiling/s.

"I think it's in that one," he said as he pointed to a far corner that was five boxes deep from the wall.


Packing tip: Don't forget to mark the boxes on two sides.