Forty-seven years ago, I attended my second Osmond Brother’s concert, at Cobo Arena, in Detroit, Michigan. I had seen (and met) them, in 1971. Now, I was part of a small group of girls, who always found a way to get to the band. For me, as an African American, it was easy. Most of the time, I was simply invisible, to those trying to keep fans from the Osmond family. For example, to sneak on their floor, I would simply tell security that my mother was a maid, at the hotel, and I needed to see her.

[The above photo of me and Donny was taken at LAX, in the 1970s].

Today, I’m at LAX, waiting for a flight to Salt Lake City. Some of my Osmond buddies, from Detroit, moved to Utah. All these years later, we still keep in touch. Before I retired, and rejoined the Peace Corps, we would meet every January, when I volunteered at the Sundance Film Festival, in Park City.

It feels good to be back in Utah, visiting my old friends. Gone are the days when we would have made a side trip, to Orem, to chase after the Osmonds. We’re older now and have other things to do, to pass the time.

Today, on our forty-seventh “concert” anniversary, there’s no other place that I’d rather be. –GGT