During the early 90s, as a junior high student at John Marshall in Pasadena, I had a love-hate relationship with two lively twin sisters, Natalie and Nicole Ganther. These two tiny powerhouses, full of talent—singing, dancing, and hairstyling—were impossible to ignore. We playfully tormented each other in the hallways, forming a lifelong bond.
I never expected how deeply the Ganther family, especially their mother, Ms. Shirley Louise Ganther (1949-2001), would impact my life. As a teacher at Marshall, Ms. Ganther offered me something my mother didn’t—acceptance. If I could have chosen sisters, it would have been Natalie and Nicole. If life had unfolded differently, I believe Natalie might have even been my wife.
The Ganther home holds countless cherished memories. It was where I first tasted Mississippi mud pie, a dessert that still brings me back to those days. For my 18th birthday, the twins and our John Muir classmates surprised me with a party and sleepover—my first real birthday celebration. In 1996, we gathered in matching cream-colored outfits before heading to our prom at the Biltmore Hotel. That same year, we celebrated our acceptance into Cal State LA together. It was a time when I finally felt a sense of normalcy, belonging, and joy.
Fast forward to September 2018—I spent a week at Natalie’s home, reliving those carefree moments from our youth. We visited La Cañada, shopped for groceries, and made Mississippi mud pie together. She spoiled me with comfort, and in return, I massaged her feet—a small gesture of appreciation for the warmth she always extended to me. It felt like 1996 again.
Natalie later surprised me with a photo I had no memory of taking. It captured a beautiful moment with Natalie, Nicole, Felicia, Dennis Howard, and Ms. Ganther—a snapshot of the love and support I had from this incredible family.
Then came the devastation of the Eaton Canyon wildfire, which destroyed four of my family members’ homes. I was relieved to hear Natalie’s house was still standing, but many of the homes around hers on Lincoln and Harriet were gone. While her house miraculously remained, it’s not habitable and was recently burglarized.
“It’s a living nightmare, for lack of better words,” Natalie shared.
On January 31, while filming for my documentary, “My Beloved Altadena,” I spotted Natalie on Lincoln Avenue in front of her home. Clad in Tyvek gear, she resembled Missy Elliott, and I teased her. With my phone’s last bit of battery, I recorded a short interview as she dealt with an insurance rep.
We talked about her decision not to start a GoFundMe, the strange guilt of being one of the few whose home survived, and the heartbreak of losing her son’s school, Odyssey. She also spoke of her clients, 80% of whom lost their homes. When I asked what she hoped to see rise from the ashes, she said:
“I want to see the African American community pull closer together and rebuild. I want to see more Black-owned businesses and businesses of people of color in general.”
Despite the pain and loss, there were glimmers of hope that day. Seeing Natalie, meeting her husband, and watching a horse trot by amid destruction reminded me that resilience runs deep in our community.
This Mother’s Day, I honor the Ganther women—Natalie, Nicole, Felicia, Angela Hughes, and Ms. Shirley Ganther. Their love, strength, and unwavering support shaped my life in ways I will always cherish. They reminded me of the power of a chosen family, the beauty of community, and the enduring spirit of love, even in the face of devastation.
Natalie LaFourche’s Interview https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqEZqC3yK5o
www.nahshondionanderson.com
