Dolly Parton did what very few people in today’s world seem to be able to do: She managed to flip the switch on the endless doom that is social media — and public discourse, in general.
Once news broke that she died, social media was flooded with tributes to the incomparable country music icon and how she impacted millions of lives throughout her career.
For a day or two, at least, the world seemed united in mourning a woman whose innate nature fostered good feelings with those who encountered her, whether in person or through her countless professional accomplishments.
Parton was an open-hearted human who spread love and goodwill simply by being herself. She is known, loved and respected the world over, not only for her proven musical and entertainment talents, but more importantly, for her philanthropic legacy.
Publicly, she was a light in the world.
The tributes were immediate. The Empire State Building lit up in pink, as did many other places across the United States.
Even Buckingham Palace expressed its grief with the King’s Guard playing “9 to 5” in tribute to her.
Speaking of “9 to 5,” in the early 1980s, when video cassette recorders were just taking off, two of the first movies my uncle had were “9 to 5” and “Caddyshack.”
I remember watching these two movies over and over again at his house, to the point I could probably recite dialogue in my sleep.
The precise reason Parton was so universally loved is sometimes hard to pinpoint, because she had so many benevolent qualities.
But the late “At the Movies” film critic Roger Ebert came close in his memoirs, when he shared an experience he had at the “9 to 5” premiere, while covering it with his colleague Gene Siskel.
“In Dallas for the premiere of ‘9 to 5,’ I had an uncanny experience. On the plane home to Chicago, I confessed it to Gene Siskel. I had been granted a private half hour with Dolly Parton, and as we spoke, I was filled with a strange ethereal grace. This was not spiritual, nor was it sexual. It was healing and comforting,” Ebert wrote.
“Gene listened and said, ‘Roger, I felt the exact same thing during my interview with her.’ We looked at each other. What did this mean? Neither one of us ever felt that feeling again. From time to time, we would refer to it in wonder.”
Ebert spoke of a “strange ethereal grace” he was filled with in her presence, which was “healing and comforting.”
To me, that is one of the most profound compliments one can be given: to be considered a healing presence, simply by unselfconsciously being one’s authentic self and seeking to be a light in others’ worlds.
I don’t know if Parton woke up each morning and decided she wanted to be a healing presence that day. It doesn’t seem like she had to try. That is just who she was.
How wonderful would it be if each of us who were somehow touched by Parton’s songs or movies or philanthropic work decided we want to “be like Dolly” and be a healing presence in our world?
How beautiful would it be if we stopped placating those with an incessant need to be the center of attention and turned our focus to actively and intentionally bringing light and love and joy to each other through our thoughts, words and actions?
The pink lights are great and appropriate, but the best way we can honor Parton and the life she lived is to go out and put smiles on people’s faces and joy in their hearts by being kind, thoughtful and generous with our innate gifts and talents.
We can do it, if we choose to do it.
And somehow I think she would love knowing that was her biggest legacy.
Spirit Matters is a weekly column by Jerrilyn Zavada Novak that examines experiences common to the human spirit. Contact her at jzblue33@yahoo.com.
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