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.