August 27, 1974 was Monday

...and the 1st day of school. I was a junior in high school. In my eyes, I'm sure I wondered how it would feel a year from that day when I began my senior year. However, I had to get thru the year and more precisely, this first day.

I have a diary. That's how I knew today was the 1st day of school. I was adamant of writing in it daily. On this particular I had two things on my mind:the guy I had a big ol' crush on at the time and abig ol' afro wig I wasn't sure I was gonna wear or not*****The guy. Well, my thing with him was, he really didn't know I was alive. When he realized I was, he'd flip me the bird. Yea, true love at its finest. My diary told me I kept tally of how many times I saw this guy 'round town. Seen him like 92 times. Small town, so we 'shagged the drag' to see folks. He might wave or just ignore. When he waved, I went nuts and my posse would yelp right along with me. Oh, and my shag mobile? A ''63 blue Chevy. The guy, wound up marrying a girl, I didn't even knew he knew. Well, considering her really didn't me...anyway, I think they had about 5 kids or so. Never told the guy how much I loved him. Yet, to this day, I do remember his license plate number: 13986*****.The afro wig. Yea. Well, my cousin, who I absolutely idolized. She was 3 years older than me, introduced me to wigs. I thought Cousin just knew everything! The auburn, as big as the state of Iowa sized wig, wasn't close to my natural hair color. My natural hair didn't quite afro that big either. I wanted to be cool like Cousin, who did reside in the big, bad Phoenix, Arizona. Cousin lived where the action was, even tho up til a couple years prior, she lived in her hometown of Des Moines, Iowa, which wasn't as big,bad as Phoenix. I just knew my Cousin would steer me right on the hair of choice...*****So on that 1st day of my junior year in high school, I was bummed because I hadn't seen the guy. Turns out he worked in the mornings, and came to school about noon. I was thrilled and filled with glee when I finally spotted him. He, of course, was oblivious to my excitement. And then I had to think about the wig.*****Flash forward to 2011. Ironic now, I wear my hair natural. I don't think it so much an afro, I have loose, fly in the breeze curls --well, when I put the right combo of product on my hair. In 1974, all I needed to do was situate an afro wig on my head. Should I or shouldn't I? Would the guy do more than just ignore and/or flip me the finger?

Stay tuned.

Still July. Still Donny Osmond.

Still Dallas, Texas. TX. HOT. Got Blue Bell Peaches and Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream in the freezer and watermelon in the fridge. All is good and so on with the story....

Took a trip through time (aka my diary and my blog) because of Donny Osmond. My very first airplane trip took me from Des Moines Iowa to Las Vegas! You see, back in yester-century, namely the 70's, my own experience of Osmondmania was well in hand.

In fact, on this night, July 24, in 1974 I sat smack dab in THE BEST SEATS IN THE HOUSE in the Tropicana Showroom, to see Donny, his brothers and sister Marie. My sweet Big Daddy Don tipped the 'd 40 bucks for our seats . I sat at the end of these steps that came down from the stage. I really didn't get it--at the time.

Looking back, I bet some of the other teenage girls in that showroom hated me for where I sat. I had no clue it was THE BEST SEAT IN THE HOUSE. My dad probably just wondered what in the world he was doing there. The scotch and milk probably erased any of his thoughts.

Being in shock I was seeing the Osmonds so up close and personal, imagine when the moment came I realized I had THE BEST SEAT IN THE HOUSE. Girls crowded around the bottom of the steps as Donny broke out in song--I honestly can't remember, maybe "Puppy Love"? Donny came to the steps, maybe even took a couple steps down. Girls went nuts. I went speechless.

Donny was right THERE! He sang. Girls screamed. He reached and squeezed hands. I finally gained consciousness and raised mine. Donny TOUCHED my hand! We looked into each others eyes. Donny's smile blinded me. For a moment we had--well, a moment.

I asked my dad what he thought of the whole Vegas thing. My dad as only my sweet Big Daddy Don could say: "I thought you were crazy."

And the picture below isn't from 1974, because that picture of Donny and me is so blurry. Way before digital-so this is photo is from 1978. Still Las Vegas Just eight days after Donny married the girl on the left, his wife of 32 years, Debbie .

Even now on this so hot July summer day 2010 in Dallas. I still gotta smile because I was sat in THE BEST SEAT IN THE HOUSE!

January 19, 1974 was Saturday

And I went to my first real time high school dance. It was held at our town's Armory after a high school basketball game, which my diary tells me. was a loss. However, the next line tells me the dance was BEAUTIFUL. I actually wrote it in caps. Too funny!

First I wonder who got us TO the Amory, because neither I or my possee had a driver's license yet. And I doubt we walked, because it was January in Iowa afterall. Even if the Armory was just a few blocks away.

But the dance. My first ONE! So psyched. I'm sure I wondered if I would even dance with anyone. My diary tells me, I danced with a guy from my French class, three times. I was horrible to him in French class--you see, during a speech I called him a 'cochon'--which was pig. My teacher wasn't amused, but he was. Wonder what ever happened to him? I also wrote how this other guy I danced with, jetted around the floor like a turkey--just all over the place. You ducked to make sure he didn't bop you in the head with his arms. Sweet guy tho. Even found me when he heard about my book I self published. Very sweet indeed.

Yet the night belonged to a guy I had such a mad crush on. In fact, mentioned him on the blog a few times. We reconnected, years later, at our 20th Reunion. He lived in Chicago by then. However, this night in 1974, all my dreams came true when we danced--twice. The second dance wound up being the last dance of the night. I wanted to put my arm around him, I wrote. He called me by my first name. Melted, I did. Back then, I had a nickname I still hear when I head home, but to hear my actual name uttered from HIS lips, while a chat over a can of soda pop? I floated higher than the clouds. I felt like a princess eventho my gown was faded blue jeans, and tennis shoes.

During our 20th Reunion tryst, Chicago Chum wondered how it would have been different if I'd told him my feelings. He said he never realized I was crazy about him. I guess that's what writing fiction is for--to have the stories come out the way you want.

I smile at the memories my diary made me remember.

Now cue up Steve Miller and "The Joker"--it had been #1 a week before the dance. Don't know if it was played that night in 1974, I just know I like the song.

October 14, 1974 was Monday

And I was oh SO sad. Downtrodden really. The Guy I mentioned on October 10, had since left our fair burg. I was beside myself. Has the first major big time crush I had that was not a classmate or some celebrity. By 1974, I was into the Osmonds, but this Guy beat them!

Just a recap of that weekends' events. On October 11, Guy's final day and you woulda sworn he WAS the celebrity. I recall a girl, from one of the high-up cliques shed enough tears to flood the hallway, as she left his classroom. I waited and tried to be the final one the Guy spoke to. Somehow it was just the two of us, and I can't remember what I muttered. Anyway, I tried not to cry as I thought it was my final time to see him.

Wrong. The Guy asked if he could see me the next day to say good-bye. I was 16 and quite content to fall and bust my head wide open after I heard him say that. So on Saturday, October 12, he came to my house, I was nervous and such. I'm sure he noticed. We went to the dance studio of a friend of mine. She had a crush on him too--and proceed to show him how she danced on her toes.

Always hated her for that. To dance on her toes, I mean. Yet, she hated me more. For you see, when The Guy drove me home--and this was still broad daylight--he hugged me tight and said good bye. I'd never really seen any of my high school mates, have such PDA's--so I felt so grown up. Alas, I didn't know what to do, yet I returned his hug.

The hug just lasted seconds, alas I wanted it to be forever, but it didn't. Our hug ended and that was that. Innocent. He left and I felt as if I stood on a cliff to watch ships sail out to sea.

On October 13, I called the family that had hosted him during his stay in our fair burg. The nice woman said he'd left that morning. It was official. He was gone. She said, "He was the nicest guy."

So move on to Monday, October 14, and the return to school. It felt empty. Outside of three close friends, no one knew what happened. How would I go on? Did he think of me? I just doodled on my notebooks for the first couple of classes until a classmate asked if I'd been home Saturday night.

Huh? The classmate who asked me was one of the guys who would shoot hoops with The Guy I still didn't get the questions.

Well, turns out, a bunch of em got together on Saturday, and The Guy drove past my house enough, they wondered why he didn't just stop.

That made my day.

Life did go on. And I saw The Guy just one other time--January 1975. He broke my heart. You'll have to wait until January for that one. :)

Fast forward to now. I found The Guy on the Internet a couple years ago. We exchanged a couple e-mails. Life has treated him well. Married. Kids. Made me smile when I read he remembered me. And the girl of 16, in me wondered, he'd ever seen me when I grown up...

Here's a song even when I hear it 2009, reminds me of The Guy. Why? Because I heard it for the first time, just minutes after he hugged me good bye and left. I sat in a corner and cried.

October 10, 1974 was Thursday

And I day I was pretty sad. You see, a man, an older man at that, was about to finish student teaching at my high school the very next day. I was so downtrodden, as I'm sure alot of other girls were, but I didn't really care about them. Heck, I was 16 and was so sure my crush on the Substitute Teacher surpassed all others. He was 22, with blond hair, Paul Newman blue eyes, and held every high school girl's heart, including mine.

All pretty innocent. Even by today's standards: -nothing happened, except the silliness of a 16 year old girl attempts to flirt--which I yet to read the "How To" manual. My flirt skills kicked into gear one earlier Friday night, during a HS football game. I stood with my chums on the bleachers, while he stood with some others kids, but they disappeared. I guess it could have been half time. I just remember he stood by himself and I inched over to him. Made some crack if he's the student teacher. Of course, he said yes, then he asked my name.

I was hooked. None of my high school mates were as polite or as cute. For the next couple of weeks, until the night he was to say good by, I did my best to flirt and chat with him. I didn't have any class he taught, so I'd hang outside his door. And my day was made when he waved while standing in front of the class he was teaching.

Bittersweet high school memory. I figured my quality of life would suffer so after I saw him for the final time the next day. So hard to fathom he would be gone after just a few weeks in my life. Hey, I was dramatic, even then for a 16 year old. :)

Flash forward to today in 2009. I was possessed to walk around the park where I'd trek so much during my recuperation time, back in 2006. The park right by my old apartment. Was a chilled and dreary day, and driving over to that park was on my mind since last night. I just figured I'd head to the rec center before I did all my errands.

Wrong. I had to go around that park, like I use to and sit on my bench. Felt right. Felt good. I know I need to make more memories at the park, just a few blocks from my house, but today...I wanted to be in that park. I was the only there. Just like it was then. The wind brushed through the leaves and kissed my face. I always felt God was telling me all was OK. More memories and dreams of tomorrow as I sent on my bench.

Just like the day back in 1974.

As much as something changes all stays the same.

Finale

Tis Friday. The week c'est fini. Does more need to be said?

Naw.

Oh wait-I did down my daily 74 ounces of water. Whatever happened to the days when I gulped water to chase a little whiskey...:?

So now some Bachman Turner Overdrive to help us recall how we must still be Takin' Care of Business--and heck, why not? Tis the Weekend...ENJOY!

Donny Osmond, Las Vegas and Me...

Last night, Donny Osmond and his sister Marie, finished a stint at the MGM Grand, in Las Vegas. I shoulda been there. I gander around this house, sigh at the electric bill, smile at the new car in the driveway and wonder if I can lift the 50 lb bag of Tidy Cat litter in the utility room—that’s why I’m still here in Dallas.


In the midst, I do smile. Because of the Osmonds, this was before Donny and Marie became Donny and Marie, I experienced my first ever plane ride. That destination on July 23, 1974 was from Des Moines, Iowa to Las Vegas. My Dear Dad explained, as the plane flew thousand of feet above the Earth, I wouldn’t feel as if we were even moving. He was right, until we hit a bit of turbulence—then that didn’t seem as bad.


The Osmonds performed at the Tropicana, yet we couldn’t stay there due to some convention or some such. So we were down the street at the Hacienda. It was all bright lights and big city to a girl from small town Iowa. Nonetheless, because of the Osmond’s I saw my first pair of platform shoes. They actually had sequins on the platforms! Oh MY! Sequins….ON shoes??

The morning of the July 24th, 1974 my Dear Dad took us to breakfast at the Tropicana. I just know there had to be an Osmond somewhere. I didn’t care about seeing any of Las Vegas. Which was a good thing because this was way before it became ‘family friendly. After breakfast, as we began to leave the restaurant, a girl came up and asked my name. Turns out I’d sent her a picture to put in a scrapbook she planned to give the Osmonds. In about two minutes I asked Dear Dad if I could hang with her and her sister. There was also a small group of girls that sat and waited. Dear Dad hesitated, and then agreed. I think one of the girls’ moms was there and reassured him.

That was the end of just posters on the wall tacked up by dreams to the beginning of dreams come true—Osmond style. Just to get an autograph wasn’t enough. Oh no, I learned during that first jaunt to Las Vegas, that a picture with an Osmond was the ultimate-especially with Donny. About 15 minutes after my Dear Dad left exited, my first picture snapped with an Osmond: Alan and his bride of eight days, Suzanne happened. That picture became one of the hundred of personal Osmond pictures through the decades.

July 24th, 1974, I witnessed my first ever Las Vegas show. Dear Dad tipped the maitre’d$40. The maitre’d led us to seats up front, which sat at the bottom of a few steps. The steps were against the stage. Butterflies flapped inside my tummy. I was going to see the Osmonds for my second time and in Las Vegas to boot. The maitre’d announced as he pulled the chairs from the table, “These are the best in the house.”

The guy was right.

Before a particular song started which I’ve forgotten, maybe “Puppy Love,” all these girls crowded around the bottom of the steps. Right around me. I was clueless. WHY? Then it happened. Donny began to sing. The girls started to scream. I didn’t. Then Donny came to those steps and walked down a few. Pandemonium. Girls went nuts. They reached for him. I did too. He took my hand and squeezed it. I looked into his eyes. The closest my 16 year old self got to Heaven.

The best $40 bucks my Dear Dad ever spent-at that moment, anyway....

We left Las Vegas on July 26. Heartsick. Sure, I tried to talk Dear Dad into staying longer. Nope. Las Vegas presented me with the memories of having my picture snapped with each Osmond—including Donny. I was bummed when it was developed and the picture was fuzzy. At that time, I didn’t know I would visit Las Vegas three more times before the 70’s ended. A better picture with Donny would be had.

Las Vegas gifted me with friendships that continue to this day. I met these girls, from Allentown, Pennsylvania, who took a bus from their home to Las Vegas. We waited, for Osmonds, in the hallway that led to the backstage door of the Tropicana. That next August, I visited those same girls in their Pennsylvania homes, so we could see the Osmonds at the Great Allentown Fair. Tasted my first funnel cake and perogie. Yep, BFF’s.

Because of the Osmonds, my memories are countless. Yep, I wish I woulda been at the MGM Grand for Donny and Marie in 2008. Aren’t they going to be at the Flamingo later on this year? Maybe it’s time I put my cats to work so they can earn their keep and I go make some new memories. Would be nice to re-visit the scene of the first crime. :) And with a digital camera, heck, I’ll know right then if the picture is fuzzy or not.

Ready for my close up.

The picture posted here is from the 30th floor of the Las Vegas Hilton, in 1977. We called it Heaven on the 30th floor. Six of us stashed away inside a bathroom until a server found us out. Miraculously, we got the chance to talk chat up Donny outside their suite---in the service hallway.

Yep—Dear Dad didn’t know what he started when he OK’d my first ever plane ride.

I am blessed.