It came as a shock on August 25th 2026, when the wide world learned that Dolly Parton had died. Spangled and flashy performing, she was a presence one felt would always be there, pleading with Jolene, helping struggling neighbors, gathering kith and kin under her wing, gleefully making a bundle, happily sowing as she reaped, always reaching out to help others.
Everyone came to love Dolly, and Dolly cared for everyone.To frequent questions concerning “others,” she was quick to reply. With The Hollywood Reporter in 2023 she stated, “I’ve got transgender people. I’ve got gays. I’ve got lesbians. I’ve got drunks. I’ve got drug addicts–all within my own family. I know and love them all, and I do not judge.” On Larry King Now she rebuked questioners; “If you’re the fine Christians you think you are, why are you judging people? That’s God’s job. We’re not God. We’re not judges…we’re supposed to love one another.” In sum, “I just want everybody to be treated good.”
Through the tremendous outpouring of grief following Dolly’s passing, one perceives that for all her glitter and glam, her high heels and low necklines, Dolly clearly understood Worth. She erected an inner fortress to protect her private life, while fabricating the gaudy, Big Bird persona which she could mock ahead of her critics (“It takes a lot of money to look this cheap!”), allowing her to quietly pursue her cherished social agendas. She knew the worth of the talent she’d been given; her music, her song-writing, and focused on dispersing the bounty they afforded to aid others.
Though Dolly gave abundantly, she also knew when to refrain from giving. The public exposure would have been huge if Elvis covered her mega-hit I Will Always Love You, yet she refused manager Colonel Tom Parker’s insistence on receiving 50 percent of the publishing rights. Later, after Whitney Houston covered the tune in 1992 for The Bodyguard, those royalties earned her enough, Dolly joked, “to buy Graceland.”
She did indeed earn wads, but as she explained, the aim of all those royalties (some 10 mil from Houston alone) was to provide for her family and future. In fact, Dolly had quickly invested some of Whitney’s royalties in an office complex in a Black neighborhood in Nashville. During a TV show appearance she enthused, “I just thought, this was great, I’m going to be down there with her people, who are my people as well, and so I just love the fact that I spent that money on a complex. And I think, ‘this is the house that Whitney built.’” (Note that a “my people as well” from Dolly Parton wasn’t freighted with the unctuousness, condescension, or pomposity of a campaigning politician; she simply reckoned everyone fell under “my people.”)
From the many kindnesses through her life, I offer three that I believe illustrate my belief that Dolly intuitively realized money itself, while vital for a given situation’s success, was secondary; that the heart of many needs is the recipients’ knowledge they were seen. Her mother, Avie Lee, always hummed or sang about her chores, even when she gathered leftover scraps to create a “coat of many colors,” for little Dolly’s winter coat, stitching love for her child into the very cloth. At school, kids teased the patches, but Dolly was warmed by mother’s love; comforted she’d been seen in her mother’s heart.
A sudden catastrophe, of course, required an instant, hefty infusion of money for relief as occurred when Hurricane Helene devastated households in East Tennessee. Dolly then sent a million of her own together with a matching million from her businesses and the Dollywood Foundation. Individual giving, however, she knew required a more nuanced approach that would make the recipient aware Dolly was extending a “Hand-up, not a Hand-out.”
Learning the high school dropout rate was 35% in her home county of Sevier, Tennessee, Dolly developed, the Buddy Program through her Dollywood Foundation Initiative. Seventh and eighth graders were asked to pick a “Buddy.” Each then promised to support the other to stay in school through graduation. Once both had graduated, Dolly would personally hand each Buddy $500 cash. Dropout rates in these classes plunged to 6%. The Foundation now also awards five $15,000 Dolly Parton Scholarships annually, distributed over four years, to a senior in each of the five public high schools in Sevier County who wishes to pursue higher education.
Free books from her Imagination Library aren’t just doled out, but have personalized labels with the child’s name, many arriving with a preprinted welcoming letter. They’re delivered monthly, from a baby’s birth to five years old. There’s no “promise” exacted from the tykes, but the continuous exposure of words in sometimes bookless homes piqued curiosity and built pride in accomplishment through those first crucial years.
The high school Buddy teams and the developing bookworms know that someone sees them, has confidence in them, and wishes them well. They’re free to learn to trust their abilities, to make decisions, to work and achieve on their own. No strings attached. The teen’s duty is to the Buddy, so both can win; the toddler doesn’t get just one book and a good-bye; books arrive regularly, advancing in content as the child’s curiosity and confidence grow apace. Commenting online, one puzzled mom wondered that her little daughter was so visibly upset by Dolly’s death. “Did you know who she was?” asked mom. “No,” the child replied, “but she sent me books.”
I was raised in Connecticut by transplanted southerners; country music wasn’t a staple at our house. One day our cook, from Presque Isle, Maine, showed me how to dial the Grand Ole Opry on Saturday nights (650 AM), from way down in Nashville, Tennessee. I loved the music, the horseplay–Minnie Pearl’s “How-deee!” and her battered chapeau still-attached $1.98 price tag (that I eventually saw in person). I was hooked.
Later, In college, I attended many of the country bands that toured Boston. One that filled Symphony Hall in October, 1972, featured Porter Wagoner and lead singer Dolly Parton. I took photos of the duo. October, 1974, a comp ticket allowed me to ride a Greyhound down to Nashville for the 1973 DJ Convention. A central venue was the old Ryman Auditorium, the venerable home of the Grand Ole Opry that entertained me those Saturday nights, years ago. I’d brought an 11×14 print of the Boston photo, intending to find the subjects.
Wandering between stage performances, I did spot Dolly Parton tapping her way towards the Ladies Room. When she emerged, I thrust out photo and pen and blurted; “Your signature, please?” I have no memory of our very brief conversation. She was kind, gently amused, signed and clicked away down the hall as I gaped. I encountered Porter Wagoner later, and he autographed as well.
That’s my personal Dolly story. A myriad others have theirs. Dolly’s grace and kindness were knit into the very fabric of her being. Little wonder the joy during her lifetime and the grief at her departure circled the globe, from Royal elite through commoners, on down into a tiny mountain ecosystem.
In London, August 26th, the morning after Dolly’s passing, the Band of the Coldstream Guards–King Charles III’s royal guard–performed a special rendition of Dolly’s 9 to 5 outside in the forecourt of Buckingham Palace during the Changing of the Guard. Their repetitions drew a huge and smiling crowd to honor their Dolly. Others had already paid homage:
Without their comprehension, Dolly’s associated with a tiny crustose lichen, already known, but described formally in 2015 as a new species by Jessica Allen and James Lendemer, christened Japewiella dollypartoniana. Typically found in the higher elevations of the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness area of the Nantahala National Forest in the Appalachian Mountains, the specific epithet describes Dolly as “One of the most famous country singers of all time and a native of the southern Appalachians.”
Far above and far, far beyond Terra, main-belt Asteroid 10731 Dollyparton orbits the Sun between Mars and Jupiter. About 3.12 miles (5.02 K) long, found 16 January,1988, it was officially named in Dolly’s honor in 2022 by planetary scientist Carrie Nugent. The International Astronomical Union (IAU)’s official citation identifies Dolly as “a musician, entrepreneur and philanthropist, who wrote thousands of songs and contributed heavily to literacy and charitable works.”
Opry colleague Grandpa Jones, singing his “Falling Leaves” accompanied by his signature clawhammer banjo lick, reminds:
To your graves there’s no use taking any gold
You cannot use it when it’s time for hands to fold
When you leave this earth for a better place to stay,
The only thing you’ll take is what you gave away.
I‘ll wager Dolly Parton stepped over into that “better place” well-provisioned.
Related: Dolly Parton told us who she was, one song at a time
