And they called it…..Puppy Love

There are a few good things about getting older.

First and foremost, for me, is I care a lot less about what people think.

In the 70s, when my girlfriends and I were in love with the Osmond Brothers, we were embarrassed to mention this obsession outside our tightknit group.

Here we are before our first Osmond concert in 1971.

I was fairly certain that when Donny caught a glimpse of me decked out in my new “smock,” he would be instantly smitten with the girl in the rafter seats wearing this blouse? Uniform? I have no idea what I was thinking.

When I showed this photo to my family, one of them said “I didn’t know you worked at IHOP.”

My father was kind enough to drive us to Madison Square Garden (in a clunker of a car from way out on Long Island, no less). I’ve been reminded that he walked around the entire time taking pictures.

As for me, I took a “whole roll” of pictures with my new Kodak Instamatic camera. When I returned home, I put the little plastic cartridge of film in an envelope and mailed it off to be developed. I would anxiously check the mailbox for the next two (maybe even three) weeks waiting for the pictures to be delivered. When they arrived, they were all pitch black with five white dots off in the distance. I was thrilled.

When I heard that Donny was coming to our local concert venue, I was excited. I told anyone who would listen that I was going to see him.

When I announced at a family get together that I was going to see Donny Osmond, my sister-in-law asked, “Where is he buried?” (Have I mentioned that I have a funny family?)

The show – that I got to share with my sister who was too young to join us in 1971 – was just as I hoped. It took me back to a simpler time, albeit a time when I was decades away from being able to admit that I love the Osmond Brothers.