We Love Dolly

 

I don’t think Dolly Parton was an athlete. I believe she was a cheerleader at her high school (or may have been in the band), but back then, cheerleaders weren’t always athletes—sometimes they were the loudest and cutest in school.

Obviously, that’s changed. Watch the cheerleading team these days is more like watching a combination of a dance team with Olympic gymnastics.  Turns and flips and tumbling runs, oh my.

Unless you’ve been under a rock all week, you know that Dolly Parton died this week. A friend from South Carolina even called to offer his condolences. You might not like her music and you might even not like her theme park, but goodness gracious, you have to like Dolly.

Her dedication to helping the people in this area is legendary. And we probably don’t know half of what she did. She paired up students at Sevier County High School and promised them $500 if both of them graduated. One doesn’t, neither gets the money.

Their drop-out rate went from 36% to 6%.

She gave away millions and millions of books to children. No commitment, no promise. Just, here’s a book—I hope you read it.

They just announced that East Tennessee Children’s Hospital was going to be renamed Dolly Parton Children's Hospital.  I can’t imagine anyone really disagreeing with that decision.

A steady stream of recipients of her benevolence is coming forward.  Five hundred dollars here, a thousand there. People down on their luck. People she didn’t even know.

As flashy as her appearance was, she never seemed to want to make a big deal about this. She just did it quietly. I mean, did many people know what she had done for Children’s Hospital until the announcement came out? I didn’t.

And here’s the thing—our best gifts are those that come unexpectedly, even privately. How does it feel to do something for somebody and they don’t even know who did it?

A gift given freely, without strings. Maybe leaving the recipient wondering who could have done that for them. Those are our best gifts.

No, Dolly probably wasn’t an athlete (although it certainly took a lot of athleticism to dance around on stage on those spike heels), but she was an enabler. And we need those in our life.

Our Athletic Trainers never score a touchdown or hit the winning basket, but they protect and provide for our athletes, doing things that often aren’t noticed and which can be unappreciated.  That’s OK.  It goes with the job.

The world needs people like that—the helpers, the enablers. We need more Dolly Partons. We can’t do what Dolly did, but we can respect her legacy by doing what we can.

We love you Dolly.

See The World

 

“The more you see the world, the less you judge it.” I found this quote on social media but couldn’t find out where it originated. But I like it.

I mentioned in a recent column about how awesome I found the World Cup to be. Same thing about the Tour de France. I also mentioned how incredibly fortunate I have been to travel for my career.

Many years ago, I got involved with my professional associations, more significantly with the American Physical Therapy Association and the American Academy of Sports Physical Therapy. These have provided me with opportunities and opened doors for me that this small-town boy of humble origins could never have imagined.

I was a sophomore in college when I had knee surgery and met my first physical therapist, Dr. Ray Patterson. As I have done a thousand times, Ray asked me what my major was. I told him it was Wildlife Biology but that I was changing majors and trying to decide whether I wanted to be a doctor or a football coach.

He said “great, you’re gonna be a physical therapist.” I had no idea how fortuitous that conversation would turn out to be. It has led to a career that has been perfect for me.

I’ll not bore you with a list of all the things I’ve done and places I’ve been. It’s almost surreal. I still get goosebumps flying into our nation’s Capital. The Rockies from above, the Caribbean from below—it’s all amazing.

And sports have taken me to so many incredible places that I still worry that I have Imposter Syndrome—that I don’t really deserve to be in that arena.

Maybe I’m just getting more reflective (isn’t that what old people are supposed to do?), but I’ve met so many incredible athletes along the way. Evander Holyfield. George Hincappie. Dikembe Mutombo. David Robinson.

I remember the children’s church song—“red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight….”

I’ve seen all colors, learned a few words of several languages, met people very different from me in so many ways, and I’ve come to several conclusions.

People are the same wherever you go. They want the same things. They want to live long and prosper. They want their kids to be healthy and happy, and to be more, do more, accomplish more, than they did themselves.

Right now, at this moment, a dad somewhere is throwing a ball with his daughter.  A mom is dropping her son off at swim practice.

Maybe they coach a team. Or just bring snacks. Maybe they do more chores so that their child can play a sport or pursue a dream. But they are there for their kids. Always. Providing opportunities. Opening doors. Letting them see the world, not just one corner of it.

Mom and Dad, that’s your job.