Dolly

Dolly Parton

By Mike Haskins

"I hope people realize that there is a brain underneath the hair and a heart underneath the boobs!"

Boy, was there ever.

Last month I wrote about a favorite singer of mine who had turned 80. Now I write about one of my favorite human beings, who's gone at 80.

There were a couple of things that hit me when I heard the news that Dolly Parton had passed away.

The first was the raw emotion and shock. I'm sure, like many of you, my phone started buzzing with incoming messages. People sharing the news in a way that suggested they hoped it wasn't true.

The second was the diversity of people in my own life, and it seems around the world, who were saddened and stopped in their tracks by the news.

Young and old. Both sides of the political spectrum. All kinds of people who make it a point not to go anywhere near country music.

Like so many, I've watched and listened to all the reactions and comments. And it revealed something to me.

We all agreed on Dolly Parton.

It's no small thing.

As in all times, we have our differences. In our country, among our friends, and even within our families. It seems there are always extremes people are willing to go to. No one wants to say, "I was wrong." We just keep pushing each other away with words and actions that are all about saying, "I'm right and you're wrong."

Dolly, however, was one of those special people who brought us together.

She was so famous, and had been for so long, that we all knew the details of her beginnings in rural Tennessee. One of twelve children, growing up in a home with no electricity or indoor plumbing.

I think one listen to "Coat of Many Colors" paints the whole picture.

From there she went to Nashville and became one of the biggest, best and most successful recording artists and songwriters of all time.

But from the very beginning, she was different.

She was a female country singer who wrote most of her own songs at a time when that was still unusual. She wasn't simply a singer waiting for someone else to hand her the next hit. She was a songwriter, musician and artist who had something to say and knew how to say it.

And Dolly brought something else to the table.

Her amazing talent as a singer and musician, as well as a songwriter, came in a package that included a face, a smile and a demeanor that got the attention of men.

And as the 1970s dawned, women began to feel empowered. They began to question. And finally, they began to demand the right to be themselves. Free of conventions, and even more, free from the approval of men and the roles they were expected to play.

And here came Dolly.

She didn't fit the times in an obvious way.

She had a look that she chose, embraced and cultivated with care until she left us. Some would call it glamorous. Some would call it over the top. Some might even ask, "Is this image really moving women forward?"  On that last point, they’d be wrong. Dolly was a cheerfully confident woman in a male dominated industry. At 70, she looked back at her time in country music and said, “Buddy, I had a ball. Because I have actually worked with so many wonderful men and I've never met a man that I didn't like and I've never met a man whose ass I couldn't kick if he didn't treat me with the right respect."

Dolly was audacious with her look, and in every way fearless.

The blond wigs. The sparkles and rhinestones.

And those two, shall we say, sidekicks.

It might have been easy to write her off. Call her a stereotype, or even campy.

But just when you might have been tempted to take that easy way out, you listened to her music.

Beautiful. Light. Original. Thoughtful.

Her voice could almost sound like a cry, pleading with Jolene.

Please don't take my man.

Yes, this independent and amazing woman could express vulnerability like few others.

And that was part of what made her so interesting.

When you thought you had her figured out, you might see her interviewed. Whether it was Johnny Carson, Diane Sawyer or Jimmy Kimmel.

When you saw Dolly, you saw someone authentic.

Someone who could laugh at herself, but was never the butt of the joke.

Someone who didn't take herself too seriously, but took her art seriously. And, more importantly, took other people seriously.

Her charm and intelligence transcended the makeup and jewelry.

It almost felt like she wore her style to make us more comfortable. As if she came out conservatively and buttoned down, with all the things she had behind it, we wouldn't have known what to do with her.

We've all been taught not to judge a book by its cover.

I don't think there has ever been a person in public life who fit that admonishment more precisely than Dolly.

If you thought you could see her and have a good idea about her with a look, there is no way you could have been more mistaken.

That same instinct, being underestimated and proving people wrong, carried straight into how she ran her career.

In business, she was incredibly successful, far beyond her recording and acting career. She owned her own publishing and understood the value of what she created.

Once famously, she refused to license "I Will Always Love You" to Elvis Presley because Colonel Parker demanded fifty percent of the publishing rights.

The King was the loser in that one.

She was nobody's fool.

Perhaps her greatest legacy, for all of her incredible music, was her charitable work.

I won't recount it all here, as no doubt you have by now seen so much of it.

I will say this: this was a woman who would have easily been a billionaire if not for the money she invested in those less fortunate and in need.

That's a legacy, and an ROI that goes beyond any song.

Her generosity wasn't simply something she talked about. It became part of the way she lived. Children received books. Communities received help. People affected by disasters received money. Medical research benefited from her generosity. Her Imagination Library alone became a remarkable example of what happens when someone decides that success should be measured by more than what ends up in a bank account.

And maybe that's another reason so many different people could agree on Dolly.

She didn't require us to agree on everything.

She simply gave us something we could agree on.

Her music.

Her humor.

Her talent.

Her generosity.

Her humanity.

You see, like you, I felt like I knew her.

Not because we ever met, or had many things in common.

It's because I have been aware of her for as long as I can remember.

She had a presence and manner that made us feel connected to her. As if she would be exactly what we expected if we ever had the chance to meet her.

Maybe that was the greatest trick Dolly ever pulled.

She became one of the most famous people in the world without ever making us feel like she was above us.

She could walk into a room covered in rhinestones, wearing a blond wig and carrying an image that could have been designed to get attention, and somehow make you feel like she was the neighbor who might sit down beside you and have a cup of coffee.

She was bigger than life.

But she never seemed to think she was better than life.

That distinction matters.

We will continue to enjoy her music together.

We will watch her movies together.

We will be inspired by her work to improve the lives of others through hope and generosity, as we always have.

And now we will miss her...

...together.