In Utah we celebrate
Pioneer Day or
The Days of '47 on July 24 every year. This is in commemoration of the first Mormon pioneers who entered the Salt Lake valley in 1847. They left their homes in the east after being persecuted for their beliefs and treked across the country making many sacrifices along the way, for some the ultimate sacrifice. In the years following 1847, thousands of pioneers made their way across the plains. Many came from other countries crossing the ocean by ship, and then had to cross the country in covered wagons and many pulling handcarts. I've always thought that I didn't have any pioneer heritage (my children do through my husbands family), but I have come to realize that my parents were pioneers too; in 1962 they left their homeland, family, friends, and belongings and traveled across the ocean (by plane) and then across the country (by train, not wagon train but the California Zephir) to make a new home and a better life for their young family. I am so grateful for that. There are many celebrations each July 24 throughout the state. In Bountiful there is a parade attended by thousands each year. Many go a day early to place their chairs on the sidewalks and streets to reserve their spots. It's a time for fun, enjoyment, and community spirit as we watch the parade wind it's way down Main Street. This year I was a volunteer at the parade. In fact, I wasn't really a volunteer, I was asked to fulfill a church assignment and help at the parade. Another woman and I were stationed together on the south end of Main Street where we were to hold up signs as the parade passed letting the floats, cars, bands, etc. know if they need to speed up or slow down. We wore orange vests signifying that we were parade officials. We found a driveway approach to an apartment complex where nobody was sitting and decided to stand there so that we wouldn't be in front of anyone, blocking their view to the parade. There were people all around us but not on the approach where we stood. After we had been there several minutes a young woman put her blanket down right in front of us, in fact the blanket was touching our feet. She put all of her children on the blanket. She didn't even look at us or say anything. It was as if we were invisible. We quietly moved to the side of them. A few minutes later she asked us to move (remember, we were there first), my associate explained to her what we were doing, but when she didn't accept that answer my associate then kindly told her that we were there first. The young woman was very rude to us and made it clear that the parade was for the patrons (as volunteers we were trying to make it nicer for the "patrons"). She accused us of not caring about the children who were watching (the same children she literally placed on our feet). Within a couple of minutes a man (senior citizen) approached us, he was shaking and mad. He started accusing us (loudly) of not caring about the children, everytime we opened our mouths to try and defend ourselves he just talked over us. He asked for my name and when I wouldn't give it to him he pulled out this huge (I mean professional) camera and informs me he's going to take my picture. I turned my head to avoid the camera (he was in my face) and he proceeds to circle me as I turned my head back and forth trying to avoid his bullying. At this point the people directly around us started saying rude things and I could see another woman aiming her camera at us. Needless to say this was a frightening situation. I won't be going to the parade again as a "volunteer" or as a "patron". Even though I'm recording this experience, I really just want to forget it. In the immediate hours following the incident when I could think of nothing else, I realized (for the ba-zillionth time in my life) that there isn't much I can do about how others act, only how I do. I feel proud of how I handled it. I walked away. My spirit was hurt a lot. I had a couple of tears stinging my eyes behind my sunglasses. I said a little prayer that I could forgive them their trespasses. I decided to make this a learning experience and reminded myself that in daily interactions with others to be more patient, less judgemental, kinder, listen to others, be compassionate, show love, think, be forgiving, be humble, etc. People bullied, threatened, and harrassed the pioneers, they made them leave the spot where they were first. They left and found another spot; I'm grateful for that and I'm grateful for
my pioneer heritage.
I was fourteen years old when I fell in love with the Osmonds. I actually only fell in love with Donny, but I loved the music of the whole group. I take full responsibility for introducing my siblings to the Osmonds (sorry sisters-in-law), my own children grew up listening to their music as well. For some reason when an Osmond song comes on, particularly Love Me For A Reason, someone grabs the nearest microphone substitute and starts lip syncing (it is rumored that one of my sons while attending the same party as Waynes daughter sang an Osmond song for her...seriously. I won't say who it is but I'll give his initials J. Leger or....Jeff L.). It's always a lot of fun. 
I attribute my ear for harmony to the fact that I listened to their albums and harmonized with the Osmonds in my youth. It would have been my dream come true to see an Osmond concert in the 70's, but it never happened. In my teenage years the famous brothers didn't even perform in Utah; but I have had a few Osmond sightings over the years including seeing Donny in concert three years ago and a few years back seeing him in "Joseph..." 
but my teenage dream came true on July 26; as part of the Days of '47 celebration the Osmonds performed at the Conference Center with the Tabernacle Choir. Mike and I took Caitlin and Chelsea (who are both at the age I was when I first fell in love with the Osmonds) and we were pretty excited to discover that our seats were way down in the front. All seven of the performing Osmonds were there, and near the end they invited their two older brothers up to the stage to do sign language for their final numbers. It was an amazing evening and we all loved it. It was hard to hold back the tears as they performed Through the Years and photos of the family were displayed on the big screens, even the Osmonds had a difficult time singing through their tears.
The Osmonds will always be one of the fondest memories of my youth. I'm glad my daughter was able to see them in her teenage years; and that she was there when one of my teenage dreams was fulfilled.
