Two years ago I posted this and the next morning -- without warning -- I had a stroke. So, today I celebrate two years of recovery. I am surrounded by love from family and friends. Truly, I am blessed. Some of the messages I received today include ...
"Your recovery is an inspiration to us all and a testament to your character and determination. You came back to life during my faith's celebration of the resurrection ... We are blessed by your presence in our lives."
"... From the bottom of my heart, I am overflowing with gratitude for your astonishing recovery ... Your forward momentum and your amazing mind are continuously inspiring. Love forever."
"Your recovery reveals your determination to continually fill our lives with your beautiful being. Lucky us!"
" ... Your story is of amazing resilience. What could have been isn't. What is ... is a beautiful, intelligent, sincere, loving, humorous, and caring person who happens to be my sister Bonni. ..."
When you hear the name “Raquel Welch,” you probably think of her in that famously babacious publicity shot. She’s standing on the beach in a busty, fur bikini. Volcanos are going off all over the place. The earth is parting. Mountains are falling. I’m talking about the action thriller, “One Million Years BC.”
When I say “Raquel Welch,” I think of something entirely different. I think of mayonnaise.
What’s the connection? Sit down and let me share a story about Beauty and
Sisters Bonni + Pamela holding Exhibitions I and II
I am a She Warrior Post-Stroke Survivor. I've worked hard to get to this point in my recovery.
What I see in this photo is me and my sister holding two newborn lambs. I also see the celebration of another springtime, more time to live and to toast good health, happiness, birth, and mirth.
I want to thank my 88-year old mother for giving birth to me, and then giving me a second chance to live on I-95 on that fateful Easter morning; to Janie and Joe for being my Good Samaritans; to my beloved family and friends for keeping vigil; to the doctors and nurses in ICU at Yale-New Haven Hospital, and to those at the acute in-patient unit at Phelps Memorial Hospital.
Here's to another springtime celebrating the birth of baby lambs!
We remembered our beloved father, David H. Kogen, on February 13. In 1986, I was in Alexandria, Virginia, working on a joint-marketing campaign, "Project Hometown America," for American Express Travel Related Services and United Way. Only weeks before, on January 28, Space Shuttle Challenger exploded 73 seconds after liftoff. My colleagues and I were stunned when we saw the traumatizing event on TV.
My mother called me on the morning of the 13th with the news: Daddy died playing tennis. A heart attack, right on the court. I screamed and ran into the ladies room. An older woman was in there and said, "Dear, do you need a hug?" I told her I was fine. Why didn't I let her hug me? I was far from fine. I just got word that my father died.
Here is a photo of me and my sister (left) with our father. Pamela and I are adorably outfitted in twin sailor dresses sewn by our mother. (Click here for "Fall 1966: The Cool and Groovy Look".) At the bottom of the shot, there's a peek of my white gloves. We had to wear them because of germs.
My father was a true gentleman. Smart, funny, thoughtful ... and see how much he loved his girls?