ANASTASIA AND FANASTASIA FLAMINGO

 Psalm 94:18 When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your unfailing love, Lord, supported me.

 Proverbs 16:9 In their hearts, humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.

 “So go girl, we should have been one person all along, not two.” Dorothy Baker, Cassandra at the Wedding.

 

They were born conjoined twins, in the swamps of south Louisiana, connected at the knees and elbows, facing each other, which made them look as if they were forever locked in a strange dance, especially when they learned to walk.  It didn’t help that their last name was Flamingo.

 As infants they would roll around the room as if they were tumbling Circus performers.  When they began to walk the girls learned to twirl in a never-ending waltz.   Sometimes their mother would beat a rhythm on the washboard, tapping her feet just to watch the girl’s dance. They would twirl around the room as if they were at a fancy Mardi Gras ball with Anastasia leading.  

Their mother loved them dearly and did not want them to be hurt and besides, they seemed to get along so well together.   “Dance my little darlings, dance,” she would say, “You are the most beautiful girls at Mardi Gras ball.  Now Anastasia you let your sister lead sometimes for one day she will want to.”   

   They spent the first five years of their life dancing from room to room.  When the two girls entered kindergarten their mother, under pressure from the school board, finally consented to having them separated.  It was excruciating to her and brought back memories of her own nightmarish youth when her mother, the girl’s grandmother, threw boiling water on her arms when she was only three for talking back to her.  It had left many scars across her body leaving her traumatized throughout her life.  She would rather have her two darlings dance through life together then appear as if they had been scarred and traumatized by an abusive mother as well.  

For two years after the surgery the girls continued clinging together dancing their way through school until their second-grade teacher, Mrs. Stubblefield, pulled them aside and threatened to have them separated in different classrooms.  They immediately stopped dancing at school and had anxiety attacks.

 In private, the girls continued dancing their way through life, eventually becoming army nurses.  They served their country in Korea at a large M.A.S.H. unit.  When things were quiet at the base, they entertained the wounded by showing them their version of the Flamingo dance, while dancing around the room, arms, and knees together while sharing their story. The men loved watching them dance since it eased their pain.  No one believed them until they told their story and revealed their scars.  Unfortunately dancing this way brought back repressed memories of their early years and the taunting they received from classmates. Their anxiety returned.

Upon leaving the war they found jobs as nurses in New Orleans, but the nightmares continued.  It affected their work.  No one understood the trauma they went through as children. They became depressed and considered suicide, becoming dependent on drugs.  Doctor friends made certain they received help and got them into a rehab hospital.  They spent several years in the chemical dependency unit of the VA hospital in north Louisiana. 

Now they are happily rehabilitated.  Upon their release, the girls returned to New Orleans and married the doctors that stood by their sides and helped them escape their dependence.  

The girls spend a lot of their time volunteering at rehab hospitals, sharing their story.  The two couples also love dancing on the weekends but Anna and Stasia still prefer dancing with each other, twirling about the room as if one. 

 During the 1990’s they helped organize a female krewe called the Andalusian gypsies.

 They are the Grande dames during Mardi Gras season, their husbands cheering them on.

                

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

 Mama and the Movies

Holidays were always different around the Blair household.  Most of the time my daddy was out hunting or fishing with his friends or my brother.  I had expressed no interest in hunting long ago when around five.  I was his first son, and he couldn’t wait to share his love of hunting with me.  He took me out to shoot in the pasture with his shotgun and its recoil knocked me to the ground causing me to cry and try to run away.  I refused to shoot again.  He was devastated and sent me to the house, never to ask me again.  My younger brother, when he came along, was the opposite.  The two of them bonded and became hunting partners. 

I felt about fishing the same way.  Probably because when daddy went fishing, HE went fishing.  I was just a tag along who had to sit still and not disturb the fish all day long.  He never taught me how to fish.  I was bored and usually hungry, but all he ever brought on our fishing trips was water and bait. So, I asked to not go fishing with him again.  I was such a disappointment to him. 

Quail hunting was different.  He hunted on horseback in the open areas of Catahoula Parish.  I loved going with him because I could ride on my horse all day long.  I didn’t shoot, but I did take my camera and sometimes a sketch pad and pencil to draw.  I was a horse fanatic and could live on horseback forever.  We had lots of bonding conversations on those hunting trips. Just me and my dad and not my brother.

When Thanksgiving holidays came around, I was always willing to go quail hunting for a day or two. 

Now don’t get me wrong.  I loved being outdoors and in the woods. I was a rough kid somewhat, but I just didn’t like hunting or fishing which daddy didn't understand but learned to accept.

Mother always wanted to make a big meal for Thanksgiving or Christmas but saw no point in doing so for usually daddy was not home on the holidays.  In fact, when I was born, he got mama to the hospital and after the birth went hunting with the doctor for three days.  He reasoned that since she was to be in the hospital for a week, why not.  That’s what they did in the 1940’s.   

If mama didn’t cart the four of us to her parents’ home in Amite, Louisiana which we loved for there are so many wonderful memories of being with my favorite grandparents at Christmas, then we stayed home and went to the movies especially on Thanksgiving Day or Christmas Day. 

 Going to the movies with my mother was always an experience unlike anything you can imagine.  She loved to talk during the movie…well, make comments out loud would be better.  Just like she did in church during sermons.  She would have fit in perfectly in a black church.  She may have learned this from growing up in her preacher daddy’s Methodist church, I don’t know.  I just know she loved making comments out loud.  My sister inherited this trait.

 So, we went to the movies like “A Christmas Wish” with Jimmy Durante as an out of work vaudeville performer.  You can imagine her comments to him and his gravelly voice, or “The Lemon Drop Kid” with Bob Hope being a con artist.  Now “White Christmas” with Bing Crosby was exciting because she sang along with them. 

 We also saw Bambi where she said out loud, “Hide your children’s eyes for something bad is about to happen.”  We cried when Bambi’s mother got shot.  We saw Cinderella where she directed the prince to quit trying on the shoe to stepsisters.

 As a teenager, I realized I took after Mama’s side of the family, and I became her partner at movies.  I delighted in her comments most of the time, like in “Gone With the Wind” fussing at Rhett Butler or repeating what Prissy said about birthing babies.  She said loudly, “I don’t blame you, darling.  I wouldn’t know nothing bout birthing either.”  

But my favorite of all was “Jaws”!  As the ominous music began playing, she screamed and said, “Hide your eyes, the shark is coming!”  I wanted to crawl under the seat that day because she received boos.  We sat quietly in our seats until everyone left as they made comments about that rude person messing up the movie.  No one looked our way as the exited, so maybe they didn’t realize she was the culprit.  Bless her heart.  Best mama ever.

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.