Dolly Parton

Today was hard.  I wasn't completely unprepared, because I've seen the signs over the last year or so, but the news today of Dolly Parton's death really hit hard.  Her influence over the last seven decades has been so far-reaching, it's impossible to imagine a world without her in it.  Dolly has done so much good, and has spread so much light and joy and imagination and music, that countless generations to come will feel her impact even if they don't know who she was.

Dolly has been part of my life since the beginning.  My grandpa and dad were huge country-western fans.  They were old-school:  Johnny Cash, George Jones, Tammy Wynette, Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings, Loretta Lynn and her sister Crystal Gayle, Conway Twitty, Marty Robbins, Charley Pride, Kenny Rogers, Glen Campbell, and Don Williams, among so many others.  And Dolly Parton.  The first song I actually remember from Dolly was a Bee Gees song:  "Islands in the Stream."  But around the same time I became aware of so many more:  "9 to 5," "Jolene," "Here You Come Again," "Coat of Many Colors," and of course, "I will Always Love You."  No shade intended to Whitney, but Dolly's version in The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas is THE version of the song (and don't forget "Hard Candy Christmas," also from that movie).

In college, I saw Steel Magnolias, and if you're a fan of my blog (all two of you), you know how I feel about that movie.  Dolly was effervescent as Truvy, the eternal optimist, whose mission in life is to make women feel as beautiful inside as she makes their hair look.  I like to think she was type-cast.  About this time, Dolly started showing up as cameos in TV shows and movies, and she always made me smile.  She never took herself too seriously, and was the first to poke fun at her image.  If anyone had anything to say about Dolly's wigs, makeup, or costumes, you can be sure she said it herself first.  I read her memoir, and the image was all about the fans--she believed that when she was out in public, she owed it to them to be at her very best.  

Twenty years ago (while I was hugely pregnant with Su, who will be twenty in November), my husband and I had the opportunity to see Dolly perform a free concert at Belmont University to film a promotional video.  She opened the filming to faculty and staff of Belmont and their families, which was such a generous gift to those who were able to go.  Absolutely the best concert I've ever seen.  That woman played every instrument on the planet, and played them well with two-inch fingernails and three-inch heels.  She was adorable and beautiful and funny and smart and deep and unbelievably talented.  I feel so fortunate that I not only got to share the planet with such a wonderful creature for 55 years, but that for two hours we got to breathe the same air.  

A couple weeks later, we welcomed Su, and began ten years of welcoming Dolly's Imagination Library books into our home.  We looked forward to that monthly gift in our mailbox, and read every single one.  Some became perennial favorites.  120 books with very few duplicates between our kids, and every month I thought of that special piece of mail as being from Dolly personally.  Seeing a need, she took care of it in a big way, which was par for the course--Dolly never did anything halfway.  

The last several years, it seems like she knew she was running out of time.  New attractions in Sevierville, TV shows and movies at least once a year (if you haven't seen Dumplin', do yourself a favor--it's fantastic), philanthropic efforts, and taking care of her husband of over 60 years.  She was in the news almost constantly with new projects, new ways of presenting herself (a rock album--a must-hear!), and still new music.  I envied her energy and her innovation.  And always with that trademark smile.  Even as she slowed down considerably since her husband died last year, she was ever-present.  

Until today.  Today is where her timeline and mine no longer coincide.  I'm not shocked, as this has been coming for a while and she was eighty.  I don't know how anyone could pack any more into an eighty-year-long life as she did.  I just feel sad.  That her last couple of years were a struggle for her, physically and emotionally.  That she had reasons not to smile.  And that we'll never get to experience her creativity and imagination again.  A huge light of love and generosity has gone out, and the world is darker without her in it.  Don't forget Dolly, friends.  Remember who she was, and who she made us want to be.  Take your own light into the world, and carry on her legacy.

Rest, Dolly.  You've earned it.  We'll carry on, and we'll always love you.

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