Marshall Hersh Koonin

It has been said, but it was not true until October 8, 2025-the world lost a visionary and truly loving, kind, generous, determined person. And I lost my amazing, treasured and beloved Father.

During his 90 years of a hard but productive life, my Dad, Marshall Koonin, was an entrepreneur, philanthropist, educator, designer, architect, role model, speaker, advocate, protector of freedom while in the United States Air Force, father and husband to his adoring wife and daughter.

He would do anything to provide for his family and ensure, at a time when insurance coverage was not a guarantee, that his cherished wife, Ina Lee Rotbart Koonin, could receive the needed medical care from top medical institutions. It was his drive and support that allowed my Mom to survive long enough to be the first person in the world on Total Parenteral Nutrition at home. Whatever my Mom's condition, through twenty-eight surgeries, he was by her side. Few people would have been able to focus on their love and instead may have been absorbed by the scars, tubes and required equipment. My Dad and Mom never gave up through health crises, monetary challenges or every day events. Together they tackled what the world handed them with humor, determination and steadfastness.

When my Mom began to enjoy the healthy life, she had not experienced for years, she did not want to keep this opportunity for Total Parenteral Nutrition (TPN) a secret. Both Mom and Dad formed the Lifeline Foundation to support and guide "Lifeliners" who were also being fed parenterally. The entire desire of the non-profit, self-funded Lifeline Foundation was to enrich the lives of those living with TPN through advocacy, education, support and community involvement. This meant both emotional and financial support to others. Due to the lack of infrastructure of today, Mom mixed her own formula each day and Dad transported a carload of medical supplies to her each week. Initially, my parents drew the attention of the local Boston media, but soon found that their personalities, charisma and extraordinary dedication to each other and determination to share the gift that Lee had received with TPN to anyone in need led to more national interest. Ultimately, this led to a sponsored national media tour throughout the United States, a chapter in a Time/Life book, appearances on the Today Show, Good Morning America, the evening news and many morning and afternoon talk shows across the country. As my Mom said in her published book, "Tasting Life," "I got strength from Marshall who insisted that there were either doctors or methods of treatment to help. Hold on hon, you will get better. Surgery after surgery, holding tightly to Marshall's hand, he ran alongside until he was stopped as I was wheeled into surgery. He would then gently kiss me, squeeze my hand and tell me again it would be alright. To experience this over and over again over nineteen years enabled us to be surrounded with a bond of love that was impenetrable. Marshall made me feel loved and needed in spite of frequent interruptions in our lives by ambulances." A truly remarkable man with unlimited love.

The success of the Lifeline Foundation resulted in both tens of thousands of lives changed for the better, but advancements. Dad's successfully lobbying Congress resulted in greater medical coverage for ongoing Home Parenteral Nutrition, allowing a continuation of freedom without having to be hospitalized for basic nutrition. My Dad changed insurance and medical opportunities due to his knowledge, study and passion. The founding of companies and organizations who now offer delivered premixed formulas from a pharmacy and expansion of research is due to both of their persistence. As a role model for anyone supporting a loved one, it is hoped that in the near future an annual recognition honoring my Dad will be added to the Lifeliner of the Year award.

It is difficult to fathom that this is just one small element of the impact that my Dad has had over the years. Just to touch on a few, after a difficult start to life, spending eight years living with his grandparents, aunt and uncle after his mother's divorce from his father, my Dad rejoined his mother and new husband Ellick Koonin. Soon the family grew to include a sister. Despite the lonely years without his mother, my Dad continued to support his mother and step-father. When the family flooring business, that was primarily focused on refinishing apartment floors between tenants became my Dad's focus, he changed and revolutionized that business. No longer focused on refinishing apartment floors, he became a residential hardwood expert. Bringing exotic woods from around the world to the Washington, DC area for the first time for homes and businesses. My Dad's work with Brazilian Cherry, English Walnut, Ebony, Bubinga, Zebrawood, Purpleheart and African Mahogony became elements of design and artistic skills, most still able to be viewed in museums, private homes and homes where regular entertainment occurs and lobbies of commercial buildings. In historic locations, such as the Vice President's home, removing the floor is not a possibility. Instead, using in a complex pattern of stains, a one-of-a-kind creative design was developed. Years of photographs during that administration showed the floor as a breathtaking background. My Dad's approach to the use of these colorful woods once again has had a lasting impression. No longer just the base for an oriental carpet, my Dad's design elements and craftmanship became the highlight of a room.

Among the other significant nuances of my Dad was that he was a world traveler. Amsterdam, Barcelona, Portugal, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Brazil, Argentina, every Caribbean Island, Panama, Costa Rico. Many of these locations were with me and my husband Joseph, but some were with others. With me, very found memories are swimming in the pool on a cruise ship while going through the Panama Canal and receiving a certificate that we each swam the Panama Canal. In Costa Rico, ziplining high above the tops of trees. He was so afraid, but when told there was no other way down, he zipped with the best of them. On one of the cruises, he won a cooking contest from among the many contestants on the stage. He was both good at cooking and funny. In his trip to South America, he continued to remark about Iguazu Falls. In Europe, climbing the steps of the Parthenon. In Turkey, taking transportation on his own to reach his hotel. I was always so worried, but he was eternally fine with more stories to tell and more friends. He wanted to see more. We watched the America series about the regions of the world and he lived it over and over again. A lifetime of learning in multiple sessions on television. The miracle of different climates and different worlds. It was the craving for more information that made him the person he is. He absorbed every piece of knowledge that was there. He would ask someone, anyone, about their accent and to tell him about their country. He always seemed to know enough about their homeland to have a spirited conversation.

Our week nights from 7:00 to 8:00 pm every single night over the past 10 years, were spent watching and participating together on Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. Figuring out the puzzles, beating each other with the answers, and usually also the contestants. Watching Jeopardy and answering those questions. He was so humble. He would let me shout out the answers even though he already knew the right answers. He knew the answers to the daily double, he knew the answers to the final jeopardy, but he was so proud when I would get it right too. After the brain surgery for the tumors, he was not satisfied unless he was better than he had been before. He fought and strived to make me proud. Nothing frightened him, if the tumors were growing back, he would have radiation therapy. And he would treat it as if it were an everyday occurrence. When he had kidney and bladder cancer, the attitude was, take it out, give me treatment and let me put that behind me. I will recover, and I will do it on my own, without drugs, without complaining and as if it was nothing special. He never stopped, whatever the problem was, he was going to deal with it head on. Be it life threatening for other people or just his knee giving way and not yet having the proper brace and support. Every single day he participated in physical therapy, even if it was his doing his leg exercise in the last hospital bed to stay strong and be ready to be discharged. Everyone comments with amazement at his strength and willingness to do what it took. There is no a person in the world who met the criteria of trying and succeeding that he met. Young or old should aspire to be like my Dad.

Of course, there was his cooking. His thanksgiving dinners were a feast, all homemade, all customized and tweaked over the years. Putting stuffing under the skin of the bird to keep it moist but well cooked, his sweet potatoes-yum, the use of Bell Seasoning before anyone seemed to know how perfect those spices were for a turkey. I think he kept that company in business because he told everyone, neighbors, people in the grocery store, waiters in restaurants about Bells Seasoning. What a kind and generous man. He even invited one of his caregivers for Thanksgiving and was heart broken when she did not come. Of course, there was also his matzo brei and his teaching a very catholic aide what matzo brei was, how to make it and why it was good. Carrying on my Mom's tradition for every Sunday, with classical music playing. He also kept buying equipment so he could continue to experiment with different techniques and different recipes. The house was filled with ideas for distinctive ways to cook his meatloaf and the ideal mixture of a different percentages of fat in the meat.

He is more than one life to memorialize, but he fit it all in. And yet, he was there for me, he was always there for my Mom, he was there for neighbors or anyone who needed him, with a kind word, a bit of his support, a funny story or just to say hello. Another significant quality of my Dad was that he so honest, so forthcoming. He probably was taken advantage of because he was so honest, but his words to me over and over again were, "really Susan, does it truly matter if I spent a little more or did not save as much as I could? Did it really matter if we accomplished what we needed to and both parties felt good." He was happy and satisfied. His tag sales, that we always seemed to need to have to pay for the moves from one state to another were certainly memorable for me. I was frequently, even until recently, disappointed that he and my mom had Fiesta ware that the purchased new while living in West Virginia in the 1960s. It was the Original Fiesta ware that is now so sought-after. He either did not know the value or did not care, because all he saw was dishware that contained lead and could not be used. Why would we move dishes that were just for display if you could not eat off of them. He sold most of the pieces for under a dollar. If someone else wanted to buy it, and enjoy it, that was a win for all. What a blessing his approach to life and others is. Those people who bought the Fiesta ware received a bargain that no one else would have gotten if they did not go to my Mom and Dad's tag sale, and he hoped they appreciated that. Each time they view their dishware, they think about my Dad. He thought they would recall him as a kind and generous man who saw there was an opportunity for others to have what he had and enjoy it. Amazing. Just Amazing.

Now, forever, I will remember that all the days I spent with my Dad either in the hospital or in one of the houses, the closeness we have. In the last several weeks, whatever side of the bed I was sitting on, he would move there. He would hold and squeeze my hand; he would put his hand on my shoulder and keep it there. Reaching out to me, to be close to me. This is so important to me and he knew it would be. I will still be feeling his hand on my shoulder or squeezing my hand in his absence. I will still remember everything that he is. So incredible and strong. One of the frustrating parts in the closing weeks has been that he could not speak clearly because he had the mask on with oxygen. A it turned out, there were alternatives that could have both assisted him and allowed him to speak. He had so much to say and was so unhappy that he could not say it. His level of closeness to me I will need to feel, even without his being here.

I refuse to make this eulogy about anger or disappointment about what happened during this hospitalization. It may slip in at some point, but I will save it for another time. There were so many mistakes that Suburban Hospital made in that final hospitalization, most preventable. But of significance and remembrance is my Dad's Medstar Georgetown doctors who all called me to let me know what a special person my Dad is. Anyone who knew him, no matter for what reason, was always impressed with his positive qualities and desire to survive. They acknowledged they were lucky to know him. Even doctors who just met him were interested in getting to know him because he was so positive and full of life. This is a loss that is impacting many people and he was not just another patient.

A couple of additional last thoughts about my wonderful, astonishing, brilliant Father. As an executive in a clothing company, his launches of products are still folklore. A floatation jacket that was promoted in Times Square in a giant fish tank. His hiring a sexy Frenchman, Jean Claude Killy to launch the ski wear division before the Olympics or before anyone knew of the skier's appeal or skills. I could go on, and I am sure I have forgotten more significant reasons than I have referenced why my Dad is special and I am lucky he was my Dad. There will be time, as slowly I will be able to focus on those newly remembered reasons and smile. All I can think of now, is his often-repeated way of responding to the medical question, "[W]hen is your birthday, with his response, August 3." When questioned further, his response, instead of the year, was always-"every year," which drew a chuckle. That is no longer the case. But I will carry on that legacy of tormenting health care providers. I am also, like him, as tall as the top of my head.

For the past four years, my Dad has been meticulously designing the home we would build in Florida on the Intercoastal Waterway. Carefully adjusting "Joe's Room" with the memorabilia of years of space broadcasting and the types of plants that would be on my roof garden off each of the bedrooms. Both of us living in one place with all of our possessions together. It was a beautiful dream that I would have given anything to see through. Together, forever, happy and content with more memories.

October 13, 2025 was the weekend that I had promised my father that he and I would return to St. Augustine and his home. The heart procedure and recovery would have been behind him and he would have been fully healed from the cataract surgery. He would be able to see, read and watch television without needing to use a magnifying glass. He would have been stronger and better and all of this would have been behind him. Instead, he will be going home to St. Augustine, and my mother, but not as I intended and not the two of us together on an airplane and in his home. The 2025 furlough, where I could have spent more time with him in his preferred location, adds to the sadness. I cannot take a plane with him and instead he will be taking a cloud to go home. I love my Dad so much and I am happy that whatever was ahead of him that could have been horrible and painful and frightening is not going to happen. Nonetheless, his avoidable loss due to stubborn practitioners and a lack of caring caused him discomfort, fear and anguish and has resulted in my being inconsolable, heartbroken and devastated. But, speaking directly to him, I miss you so much and I will miss you so much for so long, like forever. Thank you for everything that you have given to me and helping me to be who I am and instilling kindness and hope into me and your undying support and belief in me. I will make you proud. You may not be here to see every moment of what I do to make you proud, but you will be proud. I will try to remember that I should look at everyone's situation and not just the difficulty that I may be having. I will be part of you, in making people laugh, making people happy and covering my fear by obtaining the support of others.

It is hard to understand how a local hospital, with local doctors in St. Augustine Florida without the sophistication of Johns Hopkins and Washington DC was able to save my Dad life the first time and do the right thing, but less educated and inflexible nurse practitioners took him from me. I have to believe there was a good reason that ultimately saved him hurt and suffering and returned him to my Mom. I am just not yet ready to admit there is any good reason for his not being here squeezing my hand, making jokes, smiling and being with me. I love you Dad and I am glad, as one of the few blessings, that you are now with Mom for eternity and reunited with your sole mate and happiness. Both of you healthy and strong.

I have included some happy memories and pictures for my Dad to show to his new friends and Mom. As I always do, I packed too much for you and you have fashionable changes of clothes.

Your little flower,

Susan