For those of us old enough to remember the Titanic as lost, that awful December day in Dallas’ Dealey Plaza, or where we were on 9/11, it’s been a tough summer. As someone who worked for Ted Turner, interviewed John Wayne, Bear Bryant, George Wallace, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, Arnold Palmer, Ben Wright, and others, this has been another reminder there’s lots more road behind me than in front.
My “legends” list is growing at the expense of my rapidly dwindling list of “living legends.”
Dolly Parton’s passing last week has triggered a profound sense of loss here in Tennessee, but the bigger than life (yet smaller than you’d imagine) singer, songwriter, actress and all-world philanthropist left a lasting imprint on more than country music. Her passing, according to The Babylon Bee, was a sign of the impending apocalypse as “Last Remaining Universally Beloved Human Being Passes Away.”
A humorous exaggeration. Mostly.
But if you remember the formerly dirt poor Smoky Mountain area now home to America’s favorite amusement park (for a fourth straight year) before Dolly's amazing drive and vision coupled with her infectious enthusiasm and not inconsiderable personal wealth turned a threadbare “Silver Dollar City” into Dollywood you know she was much more than her memorable music. She wasn’t just “universally beloved.” She was smart, funny, had business savvy and was still tough enough to have occasionally been called the “Iron Butterfly.”
My grandkids are disconsolate over her passing. They learned to read with books from Dolly’s Imagination Library. They weren’t alone. Dolly’s Imagination Library has distributed more than 360 million books, all absolutely free to the recipients through age five. Globally.
After disastrous fires ravaged Sevier County in 2016, Dolly started the My People Fund. It gave $1,000 to every county family who lost their primary home. Not once. For six straight months. Charitable contributions enabled a final $5,000 payment. For many, the unexpected $10,000 made the difference between choosing to rebuild or being forced to relocate. She also gave $200,000 to local fire departments for important equipment and firefighter training.
She might have been short, but cast a very long shadow.
The first time I saw her, I had no clue. But even in 1961 (or ’62) everyone knew the effervescent female singing alongside Porter Wagoner had the only personality in the duo. She was interesting, but I was being entertained watching Speck Rhodes clown and Buck Trent play the banjo. When you’re 9 and looking forward to popcorn and a cold drink at the intermission, future casting isn’t a priority.
While her musical celebrity grew, my musical interests migrated down Lebanon’s Depot Street to the Club Cherry where I’d sneak in the back to hear “Little Stevie” Wonder, Ike and Tina Turner, Al Green, Otis Redding and other great (black) performers. Further down Main, Club 68 and the Golden Horseshoe offered Tommy James and the Shondells, Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, the Four Seasons and other (white) groups.
Lebanon, at least five days a week, had “about 5,000” residents. Come Friday and Saturday nights, it swelled to at least twice that. As the only “wet” town between Louisville, KY, and Knoxville, TN, it was a booming spot on 1970s weekends.
Those clubs, and the cooperage that made and charred whiskey barrels are long gone. The town has changed, and so has my perspective. Looking back, I realize I was fortunate enough to have grown up there. It was quite an education for a country boy.
As I listen to today’s “whiskey hipsters” share their “Google expertise” about bourbon, I occasionally share that as a high schooler I helped dip the red wax onto Maker’s Mark bottles. Or recount coming home from college on the weekends, buying discounted “locally manufactured products” and taking them back as fuel for fraternity parties. Business wise, my only competition were the Vietnam vets coming back to college. They bought at the Fort Knox PX at very low prices, but their quantities were limited. Occasionally, we collaborated. Great business education.
Sorry I’m not offering a reflection on hunting or fishing, despite dove seasons opening in most states and the bass bite finally picking up. Like Paul Erhardt, I missed dove season. Again. And it’s still too-hot (to me) for fishing.
That means it’s an old writer’s “reach” for an “outdoor appropriate" ending. For that, I thank Accuweather and their fall leaf forecasts.
According to Accuweather’s fall leaf forecasts, New England and upstate New York are expected to see the most vibrant colors of fall foliage. Wetter weather through late spring and early summer, along with the arrival of cooler fall nights is promising big color. FYI, if you haven’t already booked “leaf peeping” there, you are, essentially, out of luck. Late September and early October are their projected peaks. That’s my prediction, not Accuweather.
If you’re looking forward to a golden Rocky Mountain fall, you may be disappointed. Between real forest fires, and their oppressively long, hot summer, vegetation is “stressed.” That’s “weatherspeak” for dull leaves.
Ditto the lower Mississippi Valley and Southeast, although a sudden wet, cold snap might help, at least a little. Not that many leaf peeping dependent destinations are going to say otherwise.
Here in Tennessee, we’re already raking significant drops of dull, brittle leaves from our oaks, dogwoods, and maples. Accuweather says that’s a product of weather stress.
That may be so in most of our region, but I prefer to think otherwise here in Middle and East Tennessee. Here, I think that even the vegetation’s feeling the loss of a beloved neighbor and our most tireless advocate.
Go rest high on that mountain, Dolly. Your light won’t go out anytime soon.
—Jim Shepherd
