When I heard today that Dolly Parton had died, my heart, like many of yours, I imagine, felt a deep sadness. It felt as though a little sliver of joy and happiness had just slipped away from us.
I heard myself saying to others, “Another good one gone.”
And then I wondered: Are we raising more Dollys?
I don’t mean another young woman who can sing like her, write songs like her or carry off rhinestones and big hair quite like she did. There will never be another Dolly Parton.
I mean, are we raising young people who understand what it means to be successful and still remain deeply connected to other people? Are we raising young adults who want to do well in life, but also feel some responsibility to do good?
Because that is what Dolly seemed to understand.
She grew up in poverty in the mountains of East Tennessee, became one of the most recognizable women in the world and never forgot where she came from. She didn’t run from her beginnings or try to polish them out of her story. She carried them with her.
And then she used what she had earned—her money, her influence and the enormous platform she had built—to make life better for other people.
Her father could not read, so she created the Imagination Library. What began as a way to give books to children in her home county grew into an international program that has placed hundreds of millions of books into the hands of young children.
Think about what that really means. Month after month, a book arrives at a child’s home with that child’s name on it. Long before that child can fully understand Dolly Parton or what she created, the book is already delivering a message:
Your mind matters. Your dreams matter. Your future is worth investing in.
When wildfires devastated her Tennessee community, Dolly helped create a fund that gave money directly to families who had lost their homes. She funded scholarships, supported medical research and created jobs in the community that had helped raise her.
She didn’t just write checks to causes that looked good beside her name. She paid attention to where people were hurting and asked, “What can I do with what I have?”
There is a concept in psychology called generativity. It refers to the point in life when we begin thinking beyond our own accomplishments. We start asking what we are giving back, whom we are helping and what will continue after we are gone.
Dolly Parton was generativity in high heels.
She also gave women permission to be fully themselves.
She never apologized for being feminine or ambitious. She could be glamorous, funny, smart and an incredibly shrewd businesswoman. She knew exactly who she was. She could laugh at herself without making herself smaller.
And she seemed comfortable enough in her own identity that she didn’t need anyone else to become smaller either.
In a country that has become so divided, Dolly was still someone many different kinds of people could love. She held onto her faith and her values, but she didn’t seem to use them as a reason to judge or exclude other people. There was room around Dolly for people who did not look, live, believe or vote exactly as she did.
That is part of what we lost today too.
As a psychologist, I don’t believe compassion is simply something we are born with or without. Compassion can be developed. Generosity can be practiced. Concern for other people can become part of who we are.
But young people have to see it.
They are watching what the adults around them do with their time, attention and money. They notice what we praise. They learn from whether we care about suffering only when it reaches our own family, or whether we are also willing to care when it belongs to someone we may never meet.
Of course we should ask young people about their goals and encourage them to dream big. But perhaps we also need to ask, “If you accomplish that, whose life could become better because you did?”
We spend a great deal of time preparing young people to become independent. Maybe we need to spend just as much time teaching them that independence does not mean indifference.
Are we raising young adults who will notice when someone else is struggling? Who understand that giving back is not something reserved for people with enormous wealth? Who know that success is not only about how far you rise, but whether you remember to turn around and help someone behind you?
Dolly’s replacement will not be one person.
It will be found in thousands of young people who learn that ambition and kindness do not have to compete. It will be found in those who recognize that having more gives us an opportunity to do more for someone else.
Maybe that is how we honor the good ones when they die.
We tell their stories. We continue the work they began. And we pay closer attention to the qualities we are nurturing in the generations coming behind us.
Rest well, Dolly.
Thank you for the music, the laughter, the books and the example. Thank you for showing us that it is possible to become larger than life without losing sight of the lives around you.
Another good one is gone.
Now it is up to us to raise more.
