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The Florescent Flamingos

I want to tell you a story about a small flock of flamingos.

Its easy to feel weighed down by the fear and the fighting in our world. I know because I feel it too. Some days it feels like physical weight that might crush you if you flinch for even a second. But remember a few months ago when the news and social media were flooded with stories of all the creative ways the people were reaching out across the divides, across the isolation to friends and strangers? It was as if we were all hoping to tell each other: I am here too, I see you, you are not alone. There were teddy bears placed in windows for children on walks to find, there were neighbors standing on balconies joining each other in song, there were strings of lights lit up in March just to cut through a bit of the gloom. Remember that?

I live with my 90-year-old grandma. She has Alzheimer’s so the pandemic has been hard on her because she doesn’t remember why I am not taking her to church, she doesn’t always understand why I won’t take her to the dog park or why people can’t come to visit like they used to. But one thing Grandma always remembers is the flamingos.

Months ago, Grandma’s neighbors decided that they wanted to spread a little joy and silliness to the neighborhood.

They had a flock of florescent pink plastic flamingos that they used to decorate their lawn. But every week or so, the flamingos would move. One week they sat in the shape of the heart, the next they had flowers in their “hair” and ties around their necks as they danced at flamingo prom. And no one was more delighted by the flamingos than Grandma.

She called them “the critters” and on days when she forgot they were plastic she would fuss about if they had flown away when she wasn’t looking or if they were getting enough to eat. Every day, without fail, she would ask me multiple times if I thought they were still there and she would go to the window to check on the critters only to giggle happily and tell me how much she was “absolutely tickled” by them.

I mentioned this once to the Youngs because I wanted them to know that their efforts were appreciated. It’s a quiet neighborhood, so I don’t know how much traffic their flamingo displays recieved, but I wanted them to know that they had at least one devoted fan.

And then, just before the end of summer, something wonderful happened. Eight of the flamingos-six adults and two babies-broke away from the flock and cam to visit Grandma’s yard. Oh, you should have seen her face when she discovered that they had come to see her. She knew that they were plastic that day, but she still insisted I help her down her front steps and across her lawn so that she could look closely and pet every single one of those eight flamingos. She gently stroked her hand down every one of their necks exclaiming how wonderful it was that they had come to visit her each time.

Its November now and the neighbors have put away their flock for the season- though they did make a cameo as sheet ghosts for Halloween- but the flamingos on Grandma’s lawn remain. And every night Grandma remarks how kind the neighbors are for letting her borrow them and her delight that they are still there.

You see, I could buy Grandma her own flamingos, I have found plenty of places online that sell them, but it’s not about the plastic birds for her. As much as she loves them, she knows that they are a sign from her neighbors. A sign that she is not forgotten by the people who don’t see her every day. A symbol that she is seen, and she is loved.

And the flamingos are not the only sign she has that they think about her. Her sweet neighbors will drop off little bags of tomatoes from their garden because they know that tomatoes are her favorite or write her little notes to say hi. And those things mean the world to her too. But any time she looks out the window she sees those critters and she smiles.

So today I am thankful for the Youngs and the amazing neighbors they are in a city that isn’t exactly famous for having thoughtful neighbors. And today I am grateful for a tiny flock of plastic flamingos.

And anytime you feel that crushing weight of isolation and uncertainty, whenever you feel overwhelmed and ungrounded, please remember the flamingos, and try to find the ways that people are reaching out to you. They may be friends or family or strangers. It may be small or absurd, but I assure you someone is reaching out for you. Find your flamingos.

#give thanks #gratitude #plastic flamingos #lawn flamigos #quarentine #quarentine neighbor #alzheimers #thoughts from lauren

Those lawn flamingos please

All Plastic Flamingos from Lawns knows is charge they phone, twerk, be bisexual, eat hot chip and lie!

#plastic lawn flamingos #plastic flamingos #lawn flamingo #shitpost #meme #your fav #eat hot chip and lie #fake pride flag #mod lila :)#anon has a huge brain

Vintage pair of Don Featherstone plastic pink flamingo lawn ornaments. Circa 1980. Made from the original molds with a signature for Featherstone added to the mold.

Designed for Union Products by the artist, Don Featherstone, in 1957, the pink, molded-plastic bird added a festive tropical flavor to suburban front and backyards and to urban frontage as well. Over time, the pink flamingo—satirized in popular films and memorialized in university student pranks—evolved from simple lawn ornament, an embodiment of American backyard culture, into one of the best-known icons of American pop-culture kitsch. Sold by the pair in the millions, today pink flamingos can be found in hardware stores and art museum gift shops alike.

(Source: Smithsonian Institution)