Several years ago, when we were living in Nebraska, I read in the Lincoln newspaper that Donny Osmond would be performing a special run of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in Salt Lake City. (Honestly, I have no idea why anyone thought people in Lincoln, Nebraska even cared that Donny Osmond was performing 3 states away.)
Anyhoo, I turned to John and said, "I'm going to Utah for this, you can come if you want but I am going." Being the supportive guy he is, he begrudgingly agreed to accompany me.
So, we flew out to Utah to see Donny. As Joseph. In a loincloth.
He was awesome and amazing and glorious and all that good stuff.
(FYI, the rumor is true. I couldn't sleep that night after the show. I had just seen:
Donny Osmond.
Live.
In. A. Loincloth.
People, do you understand me here?!)
Fast forward 12 years to July 2010. The place is the Hill Cumorah in Palmyra, New York and our family is there because we are in the pageant. As were were getting ready for the show one night, I kept over-hearing people saying "Donny Osmond this, and Donny Osmond that." I finally asked someone why everyone was talking about Donny. The answer was, "Oh! You don't know?! He's here. Tonight. In the audience."
*Instant meltdown*
Donny Osmond was here, in my presence. He was going to watch me (ME!) dance the "Wicked Jerusalem Harlot Dance" on a stage.
Oh sweet tender mercy.
Every night after our performance we would have a devotional that started at 11:05 p.m. (I know, :05? It's true.) I got thinking about the situation and I just had this gut feeling that Donny would come talk to us at our devotional. Of course he would....why would he NOT? He was in this pageant once. He used to be one of us. So I ran to the Study Shelter (a covered pavilion on the side of the Hill Cumorah where our devotionals were held) and I threw my backpack on the seats front and center.
Boy, am I smart.
Donny came to the devotional. And his wife and his youngest son. And he stood right in front of me (ME!). He talked to us for about 15 minutes. He was charming and handsome (although a leeetle bit into himself, but oh well!). He made eye contact with me (ME!) several times! I think I took 108 pictures* of him. I wonder how he felt having my big ol' camera right in his face clicking away while he spoke.
(Actually, I think he liked it.)
He finished speaking and the closing prayer was said. The very micro-second that the word "amen" was uttered, the entire cast and crew of over 600 people swarmed Donny, like a pack of ravenous wolves going in for the kill. I thought, "I don't care, I'll wait here all night if I have to, just to get my picture with him."
There I stood, watching him, thinking of all the glorious things that Donny and I were going to talk about; we would talk about how great he was on Dancing with the Stars (even though I never actually watched him on DWTS, I could tell him that I heard he was really good!). He would in turn tell me how great I danced on that Hill Cumorah stage and how my shimmies, undulations, and come-hithers were nothing less than the best shimmies, undulations, and come-hithers he had ever seen.
Oh yes, it would be a glorious conversation.
Me and Donny.
My thoughts were suddenly broken by the sound of my husband's voice, "Come on, let's go! Now's the perfect time to get out of the parking lot while everyone else is in here!"
Suddenly, my dreams of meeting Donny Osmond dropped like a half-ton chunk of lead and shattered violently on the concrete floor.
I replied, "But...but...I just want my picture with him."
John looked at me for a few seconds then said, "Well....you can have your picture taken with me."
How was I supposed to argue with that?
So we left. Right then and there. And I am okay with that. I am okay that I passed on the a chance-in-a-lifetime to meet THE Donny Osmond. My one and only chance. Ever. I left.
I left while everyone else in the pageant stayed and mingled with Donny, took pictures with him, laughed with him, and probably partied all night and had the time of their lives with him! I really am okay that I didn't get to do all that. Because, you know, we were able to drive right out of that parking lot without having to wait behind one. single. car.
And that's got to be worth....something.
I. AM. OKAY.
I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm..........
There was a kid on the front row who had no idea who Donny was. Had never heard of him. Here Donny is telling the young man to leave the room.
With his son and wife, Debbie, singing "The Song of Cumorah."
The hungry wolves.
* The statement that I took 108 photos of Donny Osmond is a slight exaggeration, used for dramatic purposes only. I didn't actually take 108 photos, it was less.
Or more.
Anyhoo, I turned to John and said, "I'm going to Utah for this, you can come if you want but I am going." Being the supportive guy he is, he begrudgingly agreed to accompany me.
So, we flew out to Utah to see Donny. As Joseph. In a loincloth.
He was awesome and amazing and glorious and all that good stuff.
(FYI, the rumor is true. I couldn't sleep that night after the show. I had just seen:
Donny Osmond.
Live.
In. A. Loincloth.
People, do you understand me here?!)
Fast forward 12 years to July 2010. The place is the Hill Cumorah in Palmyra, New York and our family is there because we are in the pageant. As were were getting ready for the show one night, I kept over-hearing people saying "Donny Osmond this, and Donny Osmond that." I finally asked someone why everyone was talking about Donny. The answer was, "Oh! You don't know?! He's here. Tonight. In the audience."
*Instant meltdown*
Donny Osmond was here, in my presence. He was going to watch me (ME!) dance the "Wicked Jerusalem Harlot Dance" on a stage.
Oh sweet tender mercy.
Every night after our performance we would have a devotional that started at 11:05 p.m. (I know, :05? It's true.) I got thinking about the situation and I just had this gut feeling that Donny would come talk to us at our devotional. Of course he would....why would he NOT? He was in this pageant once. He used to be one of us. So I ran to the Study Shelter (a covered pavilion on the side of the Hill Cumorah where our devotionals were held) and I threw my backpack on the seats front and center.
Boy, am I smart.
Donny came to the devotional. And his wife and his youngest son. And he stood right in front of me (ME!). He talked to us for about 15 minutes. He was charming and handsome (although a leeetle bit into himself, but oh well!). He made eye contact with me (ME!) several times! I think I took 108 pictures* of him. I wonder how he felt having my big ol' camera right in his face clicking away while he spoke.
(Actually, I think he liked it.)
He finished speaking and the closing prayer was said. The very micro-second that the word "amen" was uttered, the entire cast and crew of over 600 people swarmed Donny, like a pack of ravenous wolves going in for the kill. I thought, "I don't care, I'll wait here all night if I have to, just to get my picture with him."
There I stood, watching him, thinking of all the glorious things that Donny and I were going to talk about; we would talk about how great he was on Dancing with the Stars (even though I never actually watched him on DWTS, I could tell him that I heard he was really good!). He would in turn tell me how great I danced on that Hill Cumorah stage and how my shimmies, undulations, and come-hithers were nothing less than the best shimmies, undulations, and come-hithers he had ever seen.
Oh yes, it would be a glorious conversation.
Me and Donny.
My thoughts were suddenly broken by the sound of my husband's voice, "Come on, let's go! Now's the perfect time to get out of the parking lot while everyone else is in here!"
Suddenly, my dreams of meeting Donny Osmond dropped like a half-ton chunk of lead and shattered violently on the concrete floor.
I replied, "But...but...I just want my picture with him."
John looked at me for a few seconds then said, "Well....you can have your picture taken with me."
How was I supposed to argue with that?
So we left. Right then and there. And I am okay with that. I am okay that I passed on the a chance-in-a-lifetime to meet THE Donny Osmond. My one and only chance. Ever. I left.
I left while everyone else in the pageant stayed and mingled with Donny, took pictures with him, laughed with him, and probably partied all night and had the time of their lives with him! I really am okay that I didn't get to do all that. Because, you know, we were able to drive right out of that parking lot without having to wait behind one. single. car.
And that's got to be worth....something.
I. AM. OKAY.
I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm..........
There was a kid on the front row who had no idea who Donny was. Had never heard of him. Here Donny is telling the young man to leave the room.
With his son and wife, Debbie, singing "The Song of Cumorah."
The hungry wolves.
* The statement that I took 108 photos of Donny Osmond is a slight exaggeration, used for dramatic purposes only. I didn't actually take 108 photos, it was less.
Or more.
Peter Whitmer farm house, where the church was organized.
