Anyone who knows me knows that I cry easily. But I cried hard yesterday afternoon at the news of Dolly Parton's death. The world feels so dangerous these days, so actively hostile in so many ways, that Dolly's death feels like losing a shield.
One of the hardest lessons of growing up is the discovery that adulthood confers no special knowledge or skills. Even if we grow up in happy, functional homes, we begin to suspect in adolescence that our parents don't know everything, aren't always right, and sometimes might not even mean well. Cultural icons turn out to be as human as everyone else, with flaws commensurate to their talents.
Which makes it all the more precious when we encounter someone who seems to embody the ideals we might have aspired to as children. Proverbs 31 lists King Lemuel's standards for "a wife of noble character":
She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
The list is longer than that, but you get the idea. It's a standard beyond most of us, but I thought of it immediately when I saw yesterday's news. Dolly Parton was the Proverbs 31 woman.
She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.”
She never had any biological children, but in a real sense we were all her children. She wished us well. She didn't judge us. She did whatever she could to support the aspirations of innumerable people she'd never meet and create opportunities they couldn't have imagined on their own. Her Imagination Library alone has empowered generations of new readers and sustained hundreds of authors and librarians.
And what powered it all was her own art, her own joy, her own matchless gift of music. A quotation circulated yesterday on social media: "Find out who you are and do it on purpose." You can't always trust the internet for accurate attribution, but I believe she said this because it was exactly how she lived her life.
The Talmud says the world has no fewer than thirty-six righteous people in each generation, the tzaddikim. Their identities are secret, even from themselves, because a truly righteous person wouldn't presume to call themselves that. If Dolly was one of the tzaddikim, who will take her place?
She would say that we all should.
Dolly had so much in her own catalogue, but this cover of a Tom Petty song — made for a tribute — didn't get enough attention when it came out. We took her talent for granted.
