WOW! I didn't realize that it's been so long since I posted. Thought I had so much to say when I created this blog, but then couldn't think of a thing to say! How funny. But in thinking about this past week and a couple of things I've done this summer, I guess I do have a little bit to say.

I attended the Hill Cumorah Pageant in Palmyra, NY, 2 days last week. On Friday, opening night, my son and I went as I had volunteered the both of us for Security duty. It was a beautiful day when we got there, sunny and hot and humid. But after a couple hours, the clouds blew in, the thunder rolled, the lightning lit up the sky, and the torrential downpours began. Rehearsal was stopped twice while we were there and then restarted both times as the rains subsided to mere drizzle. When our shift ended, we decided to leave as we were both pretty soaked by this time....and because we were going back the next day. Why? you ask. Well, I'll tell you. I had heard a rumor that Donny Osmond was going to be there and I just couldn't resist the chance to see him. Did you know that he and his wife and sons were actually cast members a few years ago? He played Samuel the Lamanite, whose costume at that time was nothing but a loincloth. (Donny thought this was funny as he'd played Joseph in the musical Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for 6 years....and for a lot of that show wore nothing but a loincloth). But I digress. So the next day, my son and I and my BF Mary, went back to Palmyra. We went to the Hill and laid down our blanket to save seats. We then heard some girls screaming...and heard them saying that someone had just spotted Donny at the local supermarket. No, I didn't go searching for him. We went into town to the bookstore and the fudge shoppe (:licks lips:) and then after a couple of phone calls to a friend in Rochester who didn't have a ride, decided to go get her and bring her back to Palmyra. She's a crazy Osmond fan and I couldn't not tell her that D was suposed to be there. So we came back into Palmyra and went straight to the restaurant for dinner. We'd been there for about a half hour when in walks Donny and his wife and son. Now, not wanting to stare at them and make them feel uncomfortable while they were trying to have dinner, I only glanced over to them....and only saw Debbie (his wife) and the top of Donny's head...not his face, just his hair. So, altho I might say I saw Donny, I didn't really see him. Which I'm still kind of ticked about. Oh well, my BF saw him and she had never seen him in person before. But I did take the opportunity to send him a note (on a napkin no less!) in part thanking him and his brothers for being the examples that led me to the gospel. I don't know if the waitress gave it to him. I should have waited around to tackle him after dinner...lol. But I didn't, which I'm still kicking myself for. Never did see him again before or during or after the Pageant. Well, that's my Donny story for the day.

So, was Pageant rained out on Friday? No sirreee! The show went on. I talked to someone saturday and they said it rained a little during the beginning of the show, but then the rains subsided and it was all good. I only say this because the show has only been rained out maybe 4 times in it's many years (I'm not sure how long the show has been going on...I have been going since 1975). I have been there when there was rain all around the Hill Cumorah, but not on the Pageant; when there was a slight rain during the show, but not enough to cancel it; and when it has rained right up til show time, stopped as the show opened with prayer, and started again right at the end. You can't say that God isn't watching over us. It's a beautiful production set outsided on the Hill Cumorah, with stages, and waterfalls, and volcanoes (pyrotechnics), earthquakes, music, and just a wonderful spirit. (www.hillcumorah.com)

My son and I had been to Palmyra about a month before when we volunteered in the Bishop's storehouse and then decided to spend the day sightseeing. We toured the Grandin Bldg where the Book of Mormon was first published. I learned things I'd never known before and most of all, I felt the Spirit. Then we walked about 3 blocks and visited Alvin Smith's grave (Joseph's brother), which I didn't even know was right there. It's so amazing that I've been a member of this church for 35 years and didn't know these things.

A couple of weeks later, my son and I and Mary went to Kirtland, OH, where the Saints gathered for a time. We went first to the Temple, which is owned by the Community of Christ (formerly the Reorganized Church). We watched a short movie about the early Saints and the Temple being built, and then went on a tour of the inside of the Temple. The guide kept saying how special it was (yes, I agree that it is as it was the first Latter-day Temple to be built), but there was one significant thing missing: The Spirit! I kept wanting to feel it, to feel how special this place really was, but I just didn't, couldn't. It is not used for the purpose for which it was built, a sacred place where sacred ordinances take place. It's just an everyday building, and used as such. I feel sad that this building is so ordinary when it could be so very Special.

We then went to Historic Kirtland, (within walking distance of the Temple), where so many wonderful things happened. This little restored village is owned by the LDS church and there's one very significant thing there: The Spirit! It was present almost as soon as we were on the property and it got stronger as we toured: The Newell K. Whitney store especially, and most especially the "upper room" that was known as the School of the Prophets, where Joseph received Section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants. The Spirit is so overwhelming in this little tiny room (I think it's about 10x13). I was listening to the guide when I just started bawling. I couldn't stop and I was embarrassed at first, but I happened to notice that Mary was wiping her eyes also. But why should I be embarrassed at the witness of The Spirit? I'm so grateful that I have this gift, the gift of the Spirit that witnesses truth to me. I know the embarrassment comes from our culture ingrating(sp?)in us the falsehood that it's a sign of weakness to cry in public. I was so uplifted because of being in a place where the Saints gathered, where Joseph received so much revelation, where the first Latter-day Temple was built, and where the Spirit can be felt so strong.

My point in writing all this? Just to share with anyone who is willing to listen I guess, and to share what is next:

At the Hill Cumorah Pageant there are certain people who stand outside the fence and with bullhorns proclaim in rude, obnoxious and sometimes foul language that "Mormons" are wicked, that we are going to hell, that we have been brainwashed, and a few other things that I won't write here. They are not just "Anti-Mormon's", they are people who are PAID to stand there and shout these obscenities (one of them in a previous year even said that "God didn't screw Mary" - refering to the virgin conception) at us, all the while proclaiming themselves to be Christians. I don't understand how people can be so hateful and hurtful while they are claiming to be Christians. I know our Saviour would not in any way say these hurtful things to anyone. He would lovingly, gently tell people the truth of the gospel. If I was a non-Christian listening to these tirades, why would I in the slightest want to know more about Christianity and Jesus if I heard nothing but hate?

But on a great note, at the opening of the fence where these people were on the outside, a bunch of the cast members - all young men and young women (teenagers) stood and sang hymns and gospel songs with loud voices and smiling faces, proclaiming their love of our Saviour and their testimonies in a kind, loving manner. They are truly the "Stripling Warriors" of our time and I am so proud of them. They are what Christianity is all about. They didn't shout back anything, they just stood and sang. They are my heroes!

Who Do I Think You Are?

The strangest thing happened to me today. Two different people in two different, unrelated situations said to me: "You look Irish!" What's even more strange is that in my 50 plus years no one has ever said that to me, so to have it happen twice in the same day is just mind boggling. The second person also said that if I was to go to Ireland I would understand why he'd say that. So tonight I got to thinking about this statement and I wonder, how does one "look Irish"? Or Jewish? Or italian? Or American? Or....well, you get the idea. Lately I've been enamored with anything and everything Irish. My favorite musical group is from Ireland; I have a friend who lives in Ireland; there were quite a few Irish nationals on QVC's St. Patty's day tribute. I don't have red hair and a smattering of freckles. Neither do any of the people mentioned above. Which begs the question, why do I associate red hair and freckles with Irish people? Is there a certain section of Ireland where people with red hair and freckles abound? And even if that were so, why is that the only type of people I associate with being Irish? I wonder how much of it has to do with our entertainment culture. I mean, how many movies have portrayed Irish nationals - or even Irish Americans - like I've described?

On the other side of the coin, why do we (yes WE) judge where a person comes from based on the color of his skin or the slant of her eyes or even by his name? I worked for a lawyer a few years ago that was almost as white as me. Turns out she is actually African American. I would not have known that had she not told me. I also have a friend who - because of her slightly slanted eyes - looks very oriental and who I thought was such when I first saw her. She, too, is African American with no oriental blood in her as far as she's traced her family back.

And on yet another side of the coin (so the coin has 3 sides - remember this is MY blog!) for those of us immersed in researching our family history, some of those things such as skin color, defining features, and names can be a remarkable aide in helping us trace our ancestors.

So in light of all this, I don't know whether or not I look Irish, but yes, I am VERY Irish. And I am very proud to be an Irish American.

What's Loved Got To Do With It?

Valentine's Day. The only day of the year that inspires two kinds of emotions: 1) Aaaahhhhhh! (2) Sadness. (well, maybe even 4 if you include lust and greed. But that's a whole different blog.) Anyway, I fit into that second category, as do probably a few million others. My whole problem with this day is that I don't understand why there's one day set aside in the whole year when lovers/couples are supposed to show each other just exactly how much they love each other. Why only one day per year? What happened to the other 364 days? Shouldn't we be telling and showing our loved ones every single day just exactly how much we love them? What happened to the simple act of saying "I Love You" each and every day to those we love? Slipping a 'love" note into someones pocket, or lunch bag, or leaving a little something on their pillow? Or giving them a card on a day other than Feb 14 that says 'I Love You'? Or any one of a thousand other things to show them how we feel about them? Hallmark is making a ton of moula by inventing "holidays". Why do we feed into this?

So getting back to the 2 emotions. I fit into the Sadness category. For those of us who don't have a significant other to oooh and aaahhhh over....and who we want to ooooh and aaaaahhhhh over us....well, here's a clue to all of you who do have that kind of someone in your life: it makes us sad. We feel left out. We feel like we're not worthy of love.

And then there's the dance at church. Yes, we actually have a Valentine's Dance. I complained about this last year....very loudly......and asked more than once "What about all of us who don't have anyone to dance with?" and was told - more than once -"well, there will be games that you can play!" The nerve! Like I want to come and sit and play games and watch everyone else dance and make googly eyes and whatever! Sounds like a great night to me. So when this years dance was announced an older lady who happens to be a widow and was sitting next to me turned to me and said "Why do I want to go to that dance and watch everyone else dance and have fun together?" And I thought I was the only one who felt like that. So I protested loudly - again - and would you believe I got the same answer as I did last year! So, again this year I will be boycotting this dance. Not that it will make any difference. The acitivities committee is made up of men and women - couples - who just don't seem to get that not everyone is sickeningly (is that a word) lovesick as they are.

So that's my beef of the day. Just had to voice my opinion.

Donny? Really??

So you're probably wondering why there's a link entitled "donny.com" at the beginning of my blog. And even if you aren't wondering, I'm going to elaborate on it anyway.

Yes, it IS a link to Donny Osmond's website. And NO, I'm not ashamed in any way, shape or form to have it here on my blog. Why? Because I happen to deeply respect Donny and am grateful for what he - and his family - have done for me. I have been an Osmond fan since the days of Andy Williams. For those of you who are young and don't know, the Osmond Brothers, and eventually sister Marie, began their long career on the Andy Williams show back in the late 60's. Which is where I first fell in "love" with them. When they hit it big with "One Bad Apple" I became enamored with them, falling for one of the brothers - no, NOT Donny - and dreaming of one day becoming "Mrs. Osmond". Okay, so it's lame. But remember, I was just a young 'un then and didn't know any better. (That's my story and I'm stickin' to it!). I read everything I could get my hands on that had to do with them, had pics on all my bedroom walls, and had every record they ever made. Luckily in those articles, the LDS Church was mentioned and little snippets about their beliefs were right there in black and white. The summer I graduated from high school I began searching for a church that held the religious truths that I believed in. My first idea was to become an Atheist....don't ask me why as this was totally opposite of anything that I personally believed. It didn't last long. So then I went back to the religion I was raised in. But I didn't believe any of that doctrine either. But since it was all I knew, I stuck with it for a couple months. Until one night I was staying at a friends house. As we were getting ready for bed she announced that the LDS Missionaries were coming the next day for a lesson...and that she had already had a lesson with them. She pulled out a Book of Mormon and we read a little. Now mind you, she was one of 2 of my closest friends at the time and she had said nothing before this night about having any contact with the church. So the missionaries came and taught us. And it was exactly what I had believed in my heart, what I had been searching for. I was baptized 3 months later and have been active ever since. And all because she was an Osmond fan too.

Years later, I moved to Utah, Provo to be exact. Yes, because I wanted to be near the Osmonds. I admit it. Not proud of it, but, yes, I admit it. Well, I happened to move in with roommates who just happened to slightly know the Osmonds. (Heavenly Father sure has a way of making some dreams come true). So I got to know them a little too. And I grew to love them even more.

Now, I must say that Donny was NOT my fave Osmond. Especially when he was going through his stage of being rude to some of his fans. (yes, he did). But as I've watched him over the years and seen him grow socially and spiritually, I've grown to admire and respect the person that he has become.

I am forever indebted to the Osmonds for their fine examples that led me to investigate the true Gospel. I only wish I would have told them so during my brief interaction with them in Utah.

So, no, I am not ashamed to have a link to Donny's website here for everyone who reads this blog to see. I do sincerely love the Osmond's and always will. And hopefully someday I'll get to tell them in person, "Thank You".

Musings of a first time blogger

I've been wanting to do this for some time now but have put it off thinking that no one would actually want to read anything that I have to write. I have always felt and still have the feeling that I have nothing to say that would make a difference in anyone's life. But after reading some of my friends posts, I've decided that even though I may write about the mundane everyday things in life, someone may read it and actually relate to it and if that happens then I may have formed a bond with that person, shared an intimate moment no matter how short-lived or miniscule that bond may be. So here goes.

My mom passed last February and consequently the house that I live in, the house that I grew up in, is now mine. Over the years I've told myself - and others - that when this happened it would be so nice to "get rid" of some things of my parents and truly make the house "mine". That happened in a big way on Friday when a local auction house came and took away the dining room, living room, and bedroom furniture to be auctioned off next month. And silly as this may sound, it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. The furniture was beautiful in it's own right, but just not my "style". And how many dining tables does one house need anyway? I have a huge kitchen table (thank you Rebecca!) and really didn't need another huge dining table taking up space. So off it went along with the hutch, and corner and end tables. The real shocker was how much room there actually is now in the space that used to be occupied by the dining table and hutch. I'd really forgotten how big the living/dining area is - even with my huge sectional, my monster of an upright piano, my drum set, and my organ. But the real kicker was when I was walking through that area today and it all of a sudden hit me that the house feels like mine now. It feels like MY home. I've never felt that before, even tho I grew up here. Maybe because it's all MY furniture, MY things occupying the space. And again, as silly as this sounds, no matter how much I don't like the layout of the house (I've always hated it), it's so comforting to feel at home in my own home. It's about time.