In the coming days, there will be tributes and remembrances for Dolly Parton, the country music queen who comes as close to America’s version of the late Queen Elizabeth II as a person so solidly entrenched in the ethos and spirit of being, well, American that you’ll find. And with Dolly, you don’t have to look far to understand why.
Dolly Parton was as much the All-American girl as America’s girl. Her life story was straight out of the Hallmark Channel, except it was us who fell in love with her — a true-life love story. It began with a desolate upbringing in the Tennessee backwoods, then rose through the crowded Country & Western music business, film, live entertainment, philanthropy, and eventually, a branded icon.
Dolly was one of the few women — maybe the only one, besides Doris Day — who walked the line between her humble wholesome image and an underlying sexiness that never ventured into the salacious. A rare feat in a world where sex doesn’t just sell; it rules.
Her (few) critics, all of whom managed to descend from their perches atop pretentious media outlets and “creative” boards, judged her on such shallow traits as her aw-shucks persona and her physical…assets, mistaking simplicity for lack of intelligence. But this was another endearing opportunity. Her humbleness and relatability disarmed the most stone-hearted, and her graceful, often haunting and deep lyrics betrayed her wisdom and a longing soul. Earlier this week, she was trending on social media when a 2014 interview was revisited in which she called fellow legend Bob Dylan a “weird buckaroo.” Another “Dollyism” enters the American lexicon.
Dolly Parton was a treasure trove of golden nuggets to live and laugh by:
“If you see someone without a smile today, give ’em yours.”
“It’s hard to be a diamond in a rhinestone world.”
“I was the first woman to burn my bra — it took the fire department four days to put it out.”
“I have little feet because nothing grows in the shade.”
“People say, ‘How you stay looking so young?’ I say, well, good lighting, good doctors, and good makeup.”
“I’m not offended by dumb blonde jokes because I know that I’m not dumb. I also know that I’m not a blonde.”
“Above everything else I’ve done, I’ve always said I’ve had more guts than I’ve got talent.”
“I’m the little engine that did.”
“If I can hold God’s attention, I can hold the world’s.”
What was often referred to as a life of “secretism” — she and her late husband, Carl Dean, had not appeared together in public in decades — was rather that she was simply ever present. There were no thirst traps, staged photo-ops, or planted tabloid stories to drum up the spotlight. Dolly Parton never had to force her way into our lives. She never tried to be everything to everyone. You always had the feeling that what you saw — in all the bouffant, glitter, and rhinestones, manicured nails, easy lipsticked smile, and showgirl confidence — was the genuine Dolly Parton, American Girl.
She was a woman better than any feminist, a wife better than any trad, a lover better than any sexpot, a friend better than any “ally.” She could never be defined in any of the neat little boxes modernity loves to squeeze people into — she transcended them. She didn’t have to be everything to everyone; she was Dolly Parton, being herself, and that made her everything to so many people. It turns out we didn’t need Sheryl Sandberg, Dr. Laura, Dear Abby, Supergirl, or even the Hallmark Channel. We just needed Dolly.
Through her catalog of music, she taught generations how to handle breakups, how to be a strong woman, a loving partner, persist through hardship, laugh easily, and keep your faith steadfast.
Everyone can relate to something in her music. But it’s often the music that can define so much of our lives. So, in the spirit of our American Girl, find a girl like her, be a friend like her, be a working gal like her, be a kind spirit like her, and never apologize for any of it.
She was, and perhaps always will be, the very last pure-of-heart, All-American Girl.
Just a wild mountain rose
Needing freedom to grow
So I ran fearing not where I’d go
When a flower grows wild
It can always survive
Wildflowers don’t care where they grow.
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