Don Osmond: In my opinion…

August 29, 2009

Role reversal

Filed under: DonSense — Tags: , — donosmond @ 6:51 pm

Parents often dote upon their children’s endeavors, giving the youths hope for success.

Between soccer practices, band performances and extracurricular activities, parents cheer along the sidelines and lose themselves by living vicariously through their kids.

Even within my family, my parents are extremely supportive of my ventures — including the worldwide Antarctica blogger’s competition; my mother thinks I’m crazy.

The point is, when we are supported by our parents, we have a stronger sense of perseverance and dedication in everything we do. As a result, we feel as though success is more obtainable.

But, what about our parents? Who supports them in their endeavors? It seems odd to have the roles reversed. Just picture a youth soccer match with the parents playing the game, and the youths cheering while capturing the moment with cameras.

Well, as funny as that sounds, this fall is looking to be a lot like that scenario. This week, my father, Donny Osmond, announced that he will be on the upcoming season of “Dancing With The Stars.”

Because of this, I’ve received a few e-mails asking if I’ll be watching the show, voting, or even going to the tapings.

Of course! This is exciting. I don’t want to miss it.

This time, it’s my turn to cheer for him along the sidelines.

Sure, I’ll get a little over-zealous about voting for my father, but I’ll do my best to curb enthusiasm and keep the excitement on Facebook … and Twitter … and my blog.

Best of luck, Dad! I’ll bring the water cooler with the after-the-game treats.

August 21, 2009

License, registration, autograph, please…

Filed under: DonSense — Tags: , , — donosmond @ 6:39 pm

Last week’s blog got me thinking about a recent funny experience.

I was pulled over for speeding through BYU campus the other day. Seeing those blue-and-red flashing lights in the rear view mirror conjures up one of the most gut-sinking feelings on the planet.

A husky figure got out of his tailgating patrol car, and from my mirror, I watched him adjust his sunglasses as he prepped himself to deliver the standard lecture.

“License and registration, son.”

As if being pulled over is not humiliating enough, he assumed an overbearing fatherly disposition to put me in my place.

“Do you know how fast you were going?”

I sat there thinking snidely … Fast enough to get your attention.

Knowing better than to mouth off, I politely responded, “It was a little too fast. I apologize, officer.”

After gathering my effects, he moseyed back to his squad car, still flashing lights in a blaze of glory. The victor was waving his banner for all to see as he basked in the grandeur of his afternoon kill.

Five minutes later, the conversation became interesting.

He loomed over the driver’s side window and asked, “Are you related to THE Osmonds?”

Hmmm, do I lie and get this over with, or …

“Yes, I am.”

“Really? Can you get me an autographed picture of Marie?”

I considered this an opportunity to barter my way out of getting a ticket, but knew the officer wouldn’t budge.

He kept me there for a solid 15 minutes where I answered trivial questions about purple socks, white teeth and puppy love.

That afternoon, we both left the side of the road disappointed; me with my ticket, the officer without an autograph.

He wasn’t seriously thinking about scoring an autograph, was he?

August 15, 2009

My two cents of $4,500

Filed under: DonSense — Tags: , — donosmond @ 6:22 pm

Last week, I thought about trading in my ol’ clunker for something a little nicer. Why not? The government is handing out money in a billion-dollar car allowance program. Did I hear “free cash”?

Sweet! Not only is my trade-in worth the government’s $4,500, but the dealership will throw in the car’s scrap value. That’s some money guaranteed.

Buying new cars — that should help stimulate our economy, right? Not to mention, purchasing a more fuel-efficient car is environmentally conscious. Who wouldn’t want to drive more miles on less gas, and save the planet?

Well, not to burst the perfect bubble, but I think this is the equivalent of putting a Band-aid on an injury requiring a tourniquet.

I’m all for being environmentally friendly and energy aware (and that’s the over-arching message of this program), but how can people expect to purchase a new car while foreclosures loom?

Maybe we should be a more concerned about creating jobs rather than finding experimental ways to spend credit. Logic would conclude; if we make money, we’ll spend money. Not vice versa.

Speaking of ridiculous spending, $1 billion started this program, and we’ve tapped that out in about a week. Now the government wants to throw in another $2 billion. Does money finally grow on trees? I love deficit spending. (Sarcasm.)

I can see the political cartoon already: Grown men sitting around the dinner table eating cars, and in the background, a toddler reviewing the bill.

Obviously, this only scratches the surface. Remember the old axiom: If something looks too good to be true …

It may be free now, but we’ll all pay for it later.

August 8, 2009

You know this guy???

Filed under: DonSense — Tags: , , — donosmond @ 5:36 pm

Can I share a secret with you? Do you promise not to tell anyone?

Oh, the irony of that statement.

I have the hardest time remembering names.

If remembering someone’s name is considered the best compliment one could ever give, forgetting someone’s name is probably the biggest social blunder one could make at parties and gatherings.

Well, events like the one below, happen to the best of us more often than we would like to admit. And, the scenario usually plays out something like this:

Being socialites in our late-20s and early-30s, we attend parties and functions where we fraternize with new acquaintances all the time. During those get-togethers, jokes and good times are shared.

Unfortunately, at the close of the evening, we go our separate ways and disappear into our private lives. We rarely consider getting each other’s contact information; we’ll just connect on Facebook.

Weeks go by, and we forget about that evening until another serendipitous rendezvous, reuniting all of our closest acquaintances together again. These are the moments, when paths cross, and re-introductions are inevitable; the embarrassment sets in.

“I know I know ‘em; I just don’t know ‘em.”

I’ll illustrate by putting myself on the chopping block … I keep running into one guy at every party throughout this state — literally, from Salt Lake City to St. George.

We’ve been introduced to each other at least five or six times. And, each time he seems more frustrated that I can’t remember his name.

“Look, buddy. I know you, I just don’t know you.”

Like most people, my problem has nothing to do with face recognition. However, when it comes to recalling someone’s name, I’m not always found wearing the victor’s crown.

Some just have names not easily forgotten. Um-m-m… Osmond?

So, the next time our paths cross and I don’t call you by name, it’s not that I don’t know you, it’s just that I don’t know you.

Please don’t hate me; I’m trying harder, and I’m getting better.

I’m so busted!

August 1, 2009

Mistaken identity

Filed under: DonSense — Tags: , , — donosmond @ 9:42 pm

There are times when we are mistaken for someone else.

If you are being compared to someone you admire, a case of mistaken identity can be viewed as a compliment. However, there are times you’re told you have a striking resemblance to Tobias from “Arrested Development.” (That’s no lie. It happened to me last week. Please tell me she was joking.)

I digress.

A few years ago, my family and I took a flight to Denver. I think my father was performing out there, but I honestly don’t remember. Regardless, it was a reason to take a family trip for the weekend.

The seven of us boarded the plane in Salt Lake City. My parents and I were seated three-across on the left, and my brothers in the neighboring seats.

As with any typical Osmond sighting, we were picking up a few audible whispered conversations.

“Psst. That’s Donny Osmond.” (Over the years, I’ve trained my ear. It’s kind of a game my brothers and I play; a misspent youth, I know.)

Anyway, we were in our seats no more than 10 minutes before a young, 20-something woman approached us. She seemed a little timid, but with a personal determination to find out the truth about this famous guy. If I were a betting man, I’d put money on the possibility her mother coaxed her into asking — the young ones usually are.

By the time she got to us, it was as though I could read her mind and knew what she was going to ask.

“Excuse me. Are you Donny Osmond?”

I knew it!

But, something was different this time. I’ve heard this question hundreds of times before. What was so odd about this one? She was looking at the wrong person — me!
I didn’t know how to respond. Befuddled with disbelief that she would question me, I responded with: “I’m sorry. I’m not.”

By now you should know the seating arrangements (this adds to the humor). My father was on the aisle, my mother in the middle, and I was near the window. The young women had, quite literally, leaned over my father to ask if I was Donny Osmond.

As I turned to my father, his facial expression seemed to say it all: “Is this girl for real?”
Before we had the chance to correct her error, she started making her way back to her seat, four rows up.

As mentioned before, the experience is either flattering, or disturbing. It all depends on whom you are compared to.

Did she really think I looked 50 years old? Ouch!

July 10, 2009

Who’s your daddy?

Filed under: DonSense — Tags: , — donosmond @ 8:09 pm

What is it like to be the son of Donny Osmond?

If I had a penny for every time someone asked me that question, I don’t think I would need to work for the rest of my life.

Without fail, it comes up during every introductory conversation: “… and this is my friend, Don Osmond. Yes, the son of …”

The dialogue becomes extremely interesting when my new acquaintance stands in disbelief. Thus ensues a short game of verbal tennis: “Na-a-ah.” “Yeah.” “No.” “Yep!” “Really?”

By then I pull out my driver’s license and point out the “Jr.” at the end of my name.

After the embarrassment wears off, additional questions follow — ridiculous ones, too: What’s it like to be famous? Does your dad still wear purple socks? Do you all sing around the piano at home?

For the longest time, I’ve hated these questions. Why are people so enamored by my life? I’ve never considered my father to be anything but my dad. Sure, I’ve seen the videos. I’m still baffled at how crazy the crowds would react when my dad and his brothers took the stage. For some reason, I never connected my father to the Donny Osmond icon.

Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? How could one not recognize notoriety when he’s sitting across the dinner table?

It’s largely because of my upbringing. My parents were never caught up in the whole “Hollywood” scene. They centralized a focus on what was really important to them — our family.

Which brings me to my point. Each family situation is unique but, at the same time, perfectly normal. That’s the beauty of normalcy — it’s subjective.

So, what is it like to be the son of Donny Osmond? Normal. Yep!

I get up in the morning; have breakfast; go to work. Occasionally, I’ll go on a date — same as any typical bachelor.

However, there are the occasional “not-so-typical” things. Going to premieres. Walking red carpets. Meeting famous people.

It’s still normal. It’s rare, but normal.

The same thing is true for each of us. If you do something your whole life it’s going to always seem ordinary. It’s just when someone points out those things that we realize how extraordinary our lives actually are.

I’ve even met a few people whose lifestyle intrigued me and asked them a million questions. A perfect example is when I met a professional race car driver. I love going fast, and had to ask him about everything he does — probably to the point of ad nauseam.

So, I’ve come to realize that people are just curious. I don’t mind getting asked questions about my family. Well, on second thought… let’s just keep it to a five-question limit.

Powered by WordPress