I was shocked Aug. 26 when I read online that Dolly Parton had died.
“That’s impossible,” I thought. “I’ll turn on the TV to see if it’s true.”
It was. Breaking into tears, I had to sit down, unable to process the idea that Dolly was gone. Though I never met her, it felt like a part of me was gone, too.
Within a few days, I was able to get past the sadness, uplifted by a geyser of well-deserved tributes and remembrances that poured in from all over the world. Dolly deserved every bit of the adulation sent her way.
Larger than life, Dolly was the quintessential example of a girl who rose from rags to riches. She was a star, but she never forgot where she came from. She had a heart as big as Alaska and spent her entire life giving back. My kind of hero.
Dolly Parton was my favorite female country singer since I first saw her perform in Nashville in 1973. I saw her show three more times over the years, until the ticket prices went insane.
Truth is, I flat-out loved Dolly, not just for her incredible voice and infectious personality, but for voicing my truth in her songs. She emphasized our shared dedication to family, faith, philanthropy and fun. It was natural that she became my role model.
There was another reason why I felt commonality with Dolly. I’m approaching my 80th birthday next month and jokingly compared myself to Cher Bono and Dolly Parton. Born in 1946, they’d both already turned 80, still living vibrant, meaningful lives.
It was of some comfort that they both looked and acted far more youthful than their years. It’s ever so nice when people tell me that I do, too. I respond that I’m 80, going on 13. Seriously. That’s what teaching tweens and teens for 35 years can do to you.
Now please understand that in no way am I comparing myself physically to these famous, beautiful women. I didn’t have the time, money or energy it takes to look so fabulous, because you must have “work done.” Plastic surgery to keep a pretty face and well-toned body long past your prime can be painful.
In addition, you need resources to hire people to do life in our lane — childcare, housekeeping, yard work, cooking, cleaning, etc. Women in my world don’t have hired professionals taking care of our daily needs nor do we have personal trainers or makeup artists to keep us looking in tiptop shape. We have to settle for eating healthy, exercising, exfoliating, cosmetics and hair dye. That is, if we can afford it.
I have read that Dolly chose blood relatives to do a lot of the ordinary things in her extraordinary life, but she did have access to unlimited “outside helpers” to take care of her needs. She was so accessible though that many people who began working for her as strangers became part of her extended “family.” Good for her.
Still, there’s definitely a downside to having paid staff at your beck and call. The loss of privacy and private time has to take a toll. Dolly was away from home, often for extended work tours, but she cherished time spent with her husband at their farm in Tennessee. She wasn’t afraid to say that when she was home, she ditched the heavy makeup and wigs, threw on comfy clothes, and snuggled on the couch with Carl.
Knowing that makes me smile, because I love my life here at Otter Run with Jon, but let’s get real. No one can do laundry, cleaning, yard work, grocery shopping or meal prep while wearing 5-inch heels and sporting perfectly manicured 2-inch fingernails.
Dolly and I had another thing in common. Workaholics. She maintained an intense work schedule focused on projects that she still hoped to accomplish, continuing to work for as long as her health allowed. I share her desire to create even as my health isn’t what it once was. There’s one more: I ain’t blonde and I ain’t dumb.
So the girl from Pigeon Forge is gone, but her incredible legacy that garnered global praise will live on forever. Her music and philanthropy were world-class. It’s fitting that Imagination Library continues to honor her illiterate father by putting books into the hands of children who would probably never have owned one.
My sister Marge, who is 18 months older than me, has a priceless view on birthdays that has become my mantra. She says we should think of aging in a different way: If you didn’t know your birth date, how old would you think you are? She says for her it’s 40. I’d say for me it’s 50. Seeing I’m almost 80, I like that perspective.
Kathleen Marsh is a lifelong educator, writer and community advocate. She has published eight books, four on the history of Townsend, where she and husband Jon are happily retired on the beautiful Townsend Flowage.
