Flamingo Fan

My daughter sent me a link to an article about the passing of Donald Featherstone, the man who created the plastic lawn flamingo (click here). Meredith and I shared a mother-daughter night of vandalism when we planted two of the garish critters on the lawn of my friend, Ann Anastasio. We had to park two blocks away from her house just to make sure we stopped giggling. We didn’t want to be discovered before we could stick the birds in the ground and make our escape.

Ann’s sister Sarah wanted to surprise her for her birthday. I was happy enough to be a partner in crime, but it wasn’t my idea. Part of me was a little sad that it wasn’t my idea. The more I thought about flamingos, the more curious I became about what still remained of that old fad. I started looking for flamingo stuff, and by golly it’s out there.

My own flamingo patch

My own flamingo patch

I even made myself a flamingo tote bag.

Rocking those flamingos

Rocking those flamingos

In honor of Mr. Featherstone and the plastic icon that defined a generation, I would like to collect plastic pink flaming stories. I’ll print them here, with pictures if you have them. If I get enough, maybe I can edit a book and convince someone to publish it. It would be a fragile and funky immortality, but imagine having your byline in a book about pink flamingos. Now stop laughing and write your story.

Luck and wisdom!

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