It’s been nearly a month since my last blog, which might be the longest dry spell since I launched this thing in early 2019. My fallback excuse is that I’ve been busy with work. In reality, I just haven’t been that interested in blogging. This happens occasionally, when both inspiration and desire slump well below the 200-day moving average. I usually push past those obstacles and try to churn out something, anything, just to keep certain writing muscles in fighting trim. This blog isn’t the result of me pushing forward, though. It’s the result of recent headlines that impacted me a lot more than I might have expected. I’m not sure what the central point of this blog is, but I guess we’ll find out….
In the summer of 1977 I had just graduated high school and was preparing for university life, which means I was getting ready to embark on one of those Life Demarcation Points that pop up every so often, and after which you will never again be the same.
I don’t remember much about that summer, other than working in the stock room of a long-defunct women’s apparel chain called Stuart’s. I liked the job. It was in a mall close to home. It paid money – and I liked money. I mainly liked that I was left alone to do my work in the back room without having to deal with too many people. It was just me, the merchandise that needed to be handled, and a radio that poured out the hits of the day.
Oddly (sadly?), my other main memory from that summer was learning that Elvis Presley had died. This shouldn’t have been that big a deal, considering that Elvis was a ‘50s rock n’ roll icon whose music didn’t necessarily resonate with cool ‘70s teenagers like me. But shit, he was Elvis. Elvis. And back then, that name still carried a lot of weight. Even now, it carries a lot of weight.
The date was August 16, 1977. I heard about it while driving around in my car, which I believe was a used, puke-green Pontiac Ventura. The news was delivered via WROQ (“The Q”), an FM rock station during the early days of FM rock radio. The daytime DJ – a mellow fellow known only as “JB” – let his listeners know that Elvis Presley had passed away at the age of 42.
“As far as I’m concerned,” JB told his radio audience, “this is the day the music died.”
I still remember that moment and those words. It was sort of shocking. I also remember the song JB played in tribute to Elvis – “American Pie” by Don McLean. The song about the day the music died….
Nearly 49 years later to the day, on August 25, 2026, Dolly Parton died. This was similarly shocking news, even though Dolly was 80 years old.
But unlike with Elvis’ death, it didn’t take hours for Dolly’s death to reach me. I’m guessing it took less than 20 minutes for the news to blaze around the internet and reach pretty much everyone from sea to shining sea.
That’s one of about 10,000 differences between 1977 and 2026. In 2026, someone in Kazakhstan can get the same news as someone in Nashville, Nigeria, Australia, Belgium or Chile at roughly the same time – and man, does the word spread quickly. You have to remind yourself that this wasn’t the case as recently as 30 years ago, or all the thousands of years before that.
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I personally learned about Dolly’s death in an unconventional way, through a couple of writing assignments that suddenly showed up in my work portal. Both assignments involved Dolly Parton. One focused on her philanthropic work, and the massive amounts of time and money she poured into helping others. The other assignment, the one I ended up writing, focused on her business interests outside of music and entertainment.
The reason these assignments centered on money is because the website I write for is devoted to personal finance. The reason Dolly Parton became such a sudden focus was not immediately clear to me.
But it didn’t take long to figure things out.
When you earn money as a news or web writer, you sometimes get assignments out of the blue, focused on particular people. It usually means that person was trending in the news – which often means that person had just passed away.
Something similar happened not too long ago, on July 11. On that day, a couple of assignments rolled in that involved Lindsay Graham, the U.S. senator from South Carolina who died suddenly at the age of 71. I didn’t know he’d died until the assignments showed up. If I’m being honest, I didn’t give a single shit that Lindsay Graham had died. I had no use for him. He was a jelly-spined, opportunistic fraud who embodied everything detestable about MAGA-era U.S. politics.
But, I was assigned an article to write about the guy. So write it I did, with the proper degree of balance and objectivity.
Back to Dolly, though…..
As mentioned earlier, it didn’t take long for me to realize why she was suddenly the focus of work assignments. I did a quick google search, and immediately saw the headlines about her death.
Unlike with Lindsay Graham, I was saddened to learn that Dolly Parton had passed away. I immediately felt the void she left behind, as did so many others. But I also needed to get busy writing the article about her, which required a quick turnaround. If you’re interested, here’s the link.
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This isn’t necessarily a blog about Dolly Parton, though I will write more about her further down.
This is really a blog about the people who impact so many lives in so many ways – and across so many lands, and so many decades – that they etch themselves into the permanent human record, and achieve a kind of immortality most of us will never achieve.
You can get a sense of who these people are by the reactions to their deaths. When Elvis died, it was like a large chunk of the world collectively held its breath for a moment. His death was front-page news for days and days and days. The same thing happened when John Lennon died, and Michael Jackson. We live in an age when celebrity equals importance, for better or worse.
Such was the case with Dolly as well. It’s been a week since she passed away, and she’s still trending across all forms of media. But in her case, I believe the attention is merited.
I don’t know exactly where Dolly Parton ranked in the pantheon of pop culture fame and influence over the past 50 or 60 years. But you can bet it was right near the top. In terms of living musical artists past the age of 70, here’s how I would have ranked them on the basis of global success and influence a day before Dolly died:
- Paul McCartney
- Mick Jagger
- Bob Dylan
- Elton John
- Stevie Wonder
- Dolly Parton
- Bruce Springsteen
- Willie Nelson
- Cher
- Diana Ross
Well, Dolly is no longer on that list, and ne’er shall be again. She’s joined Elvis and Prince and Michael Jackson and Sinatra and John Lennon and all the others who used to populate the list but no longer do.
But unlike most of them, Dolly Parton’s importance to the world went well beyond mere record sales and celebrity.
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Let me just get this out of the way right now:
I was not a huge fan of Dolly Parton’s music or movies. She was an excellent songwriter and singer, and earned her place as an icon of country music. But for some reason I never gravitated to any of her albums back when I was a big collector or albums.
In the late 1970s and on into the 80s and beyond, Parton branched out from country music and became a massive crossover pop star. I can’t say I loved her pop hits. She also starred in a series of hit movies – “9 to 5,” “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas,” “Steel Magnolias,” etc. I’m not sure I have seen any of them.
But here’s the important thing, and maybe why I’m writing this blog:
I believe Dolly Parton was an exceptional human being. A genuinely good person. In the world of pop culture, she was one of the best. Oh, screw that – in any walk of life, she was one of the best.
I had great admiration for her humanity, honesty, generosity, toughness, grace, humor and spirit. She was a superstar who didn’t let stardom define her. She came from very humble beginnings in eastern Tennessee, and never forgot her roots. On the contrary, she embraced her roots. My mother’s family were from eastern Tennessee, so maybe I felt that connection in some way.
Plenty of entertainers put on a show of humility – especially country music stars. They give you the old “aw shucks, I’m just an ol’ boy or girl from the sticks” routine in public. But in private, they’re laser-focused on counting their money, feeding their ginormous egos, and treating others like shit.
Not Dolly, though. She didn’t fake it. From all I’ve learned about her, she was the genuine article, a good and kind person who dedicated a big part of her life (and fortune) to helping others.
She didn’t try to be anyone other than who she was – a poor girl from a large family in the Great Smoky Mountains who dreamed big, and who made no apologies for her accent, her roots, or her self-proclaimed “cheap” look built around flamboyant wigs and outfits.
She was who she was and you could either like it or not. And if you didn’t like it, what the hell. Chances are she’d be your friend, anyway. Let that sink in for a moment.
Dolly Parton was not overtly political. But she was quick to defend the rights of the most vulnerable and marginalized members of society, while so many others were quick to demonize them. She was a woman of deep religious faith who did not judge others, and had little use for those who did. She was smart, with a sharp business mind, but gave away a large chunk of her fortune to charity.
On the night she died, I threw on the headphones, turned off the lights, and watched videos of Parton performing during her younger days. Something inside me just wanted to pay homage to a person who represented a certain period of time, and certain values, that I still hold dear.
Then something weird happened. Something that caught me off guard.
I got really, really emotional. Almost to the point of tears. This is not who I am. I don’t tear up. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I teared up – even when I wanted to, and needed to. That’s not some macho boast on my part. It’s just a weird psychological quirk that doesn’t always serve me well.
Watching videos on the night Dolly Parton died, though, I came really close. Really, really close. I came especially close watching this video featuring a performance by Dolly, Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris, the latter pair of whom I really was a fan of, then and now.
All three are young and beautiful in this video – beautiful in all the ways we as a society put value on, but also beautiful in ways we sadly don’t. I was young when they sang it, so it was a long time ago.
They’re singing a song called “The Sweetest Gift, a Mother’s Smile,” written long ago by James B. Coats. It’s about a mother’s love for a wayward son, and how that love endured despite his many sins, and the crimes that landed him in jail.
It’s sort of the perfect song for Dolly Parton. Because you get the feeling she loved people in much the same way, with no conditions, judgement, or expectations. She was not one to hold your sins against you. She knew the power of grace and forgiveness.
By all appearances, Dolly Parton valued kindness and generosity over cynicism and greed, which put her at odds with most of the people in power, but never weakened her resolve to fight the good fight.
Maybe that’s why I nearly teared up when Dolly Parton died. Because she succeeded where so many others fell short (myself included) – by valuing and defending the things that make the world a better place for everyone.
My fear is that too few of us even recognize these things anymore, let alone defend them. We’d do well to follow Dolly’s example.
Image: My AI creation.
Vance Cariaga 