Reflections on Donny & Marie

It's Saturday night at 8pm.

There are those who might call my social life on a night like this, well, pathetic. Those who might say so are probably getting ready for their 9pm dinner reservation at a posh place nestled in the Upper East Side of New York City. Or maybe I would not need to go to that extreme...it's quite likely my younger, hipper next door neighbors (who are hosting a St. Patrick's Day party in their home as I speak) would cringe in embarrassment for me if they knew.

I will admit it: I am watching The Osmond Reunion on PBS.

Worse yet, I am enjoying it.

And if you think it could not possibly get sadder than that: it has inspired visions of Christopher and Annie sharing a stage 20 years from now singing a touching rendition of "He Ain't Heavy (He's My Brother)".

Furthermore, I am aware that Donny & Marie could have sang me right into the world, had my mother had a radio playing in the delivery room. Once again, I find my tastes are completely mismatched with my generation. There are those who would argue that I have no taste. I say: To each his own.

Go ahead, cast me a sympathic nod.

But you don't have to. I am happy.

The only thing that marrs this happiness with my local PBS special is that they are on their annual fundraising drive, and WOULD YOU BELIEVE that the VERY SAME MAN who interrupted "Seseme Street" with a fundraising speech that never ended when I was a little girl is STILL on!!! I do not know his name, but I'd know his face out of a million. He looks just the same, except with whiter hair and added wrinkles. He used to inspire such frustration-even anger-within my young, scrawny frame. Because of him, I lost more of the already precious little peice of television viewing time I had as a youngster. He rates right up their with local meteorologist, Joe Calhoun (although I think it may have been someone else at the time). I would take him at his word school night after school night and all I ever received back were broken promises, and off to school I would tread, nary a flurry fluttering anywhere (never mind the 10+ inches they breathlessly predicted the evening before).

Now that I got that off my chest, I will say it has been a productive day. My parents were so kind as to take the children for the day. I truly think I only sat down once. There were small, but neccessary projects that I have been meaning to do for weeks, but it just does not happen with the babies around. As I sit here, my closet no longer looks like it was nuked, Annie's wardrobe has been sifted, sorted and simplified, our house feels clean (for the most part) and there are tiny touches of spring decor dotting the inside landscape of our home (mostly all stuff I had in storage, and to my dissappointment, pansys aren't on the market yet!).

Now we are at the end of a long, productive day and we are thankful. Curt has since relinquished the remote. No longer are Donny & Marie smiling their big toothed smiles at me, serenading us with bubbly, feel-good songs...

But I'm still happy.

I hope you are too.