Buttercup, pull up a chair. It’s Monday morning and I was looking through my home this morning and even though the song Working 9 to 5 is running through my head I’ve been trying to decide what I want to do this morning.

Clean the house, prepare dinner, work or spend time with Charlie. Or throw in the towel and turn on the music or a movie and call it a day. Instead I keep seeing the movie 9 to 5 playing in my head and the song on repeat.

As I think about Dolly this morning and how she never seemed to slow down. That means its time to get out of my head and get to work. I can not grow if I don’t put the effort in.

If there was ever a woman who could fill up an entire room with stories, songs, laughter, memories, rhinestones, big hair, and a little bit of mischief, it would be Dolly Parton. And I have a feeling this may be a bumpy ride because Buttercup when I grow up I want to be just like her. How about you?

For me Dolly Parton has been around for as long as I can remember. She has been part of the music playing on the radio, the movies playing on television, the songs people sing in the car, and the stories families pass down.

But Dolly has also become part of our family’s memories. That’s what makes writing about her different. I’m not just remembering a country music legend. I’m remembering a woman whose music somehow found its way into our family.

Dolly Rebecca Parton was born January 19, 1946, in Locust Ridge, Tennessee, near the Great Smoky Mountains. She was the fourth of twelve children and grew up in a poor but musical family. Her childhood in Appalachia would become one of the greatest sources of inspiration for her songwriting.

Knowing Dolly Parton had 12 sister’s and brothers reminds me of my grandma Dorie who had 10 siblings. Can you imagine having a family that big and most of the time only the dad worked?

One thing I wanted to share about Dolly is she started performing while she was still a child. By the time she moved to Nashville after high school, she already knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to write songs. She wanted to sing. She wanted to make a life out of the talent she believed God had given her. And she did.

But what amazes me about Dolly isn’t simply that she became famous. It’s that she never seemed to forget where she came from. You can hear that in her music. You can see it in the stories she tells. You can tell it in her love for the LORD. And you can feel it in the way she has continued to invest in people, children, education, her home state, and the communities around her.

Here is a fun fact about my family: Dolly has been part of my family’s story in ways that probably wouldn’t mean much to anybody else—but they mean something to me. My father-in-law loved Dolly.

And if you’ve ever known someone who had a particular celebrity they were especially fond of, you know exactly what I mean. Grandma had her own declaration. She used to say that if she ever remarried, it was going to be Willie Nelson. I have to laugh thinking about it. And honestly, Dolly probably could have made that list too.

There was also a personal connection to Dolly’s roots. My father-in-law lived close to where Dolly grew up, and so did my mother-in-law. That made the story feel a little closer to home.

Dolly’s father worked in the mountains, and her family’s life was shaped by the realities of coal-country Appalachia. Her father died in 2000, after a lifetime of hard work. My mother-in-law’s father also died in the coal mines. Those kinds of connections stay with you.

You can listen to a famous person’s story and suddenly recognize pieces of your own family’s story in it. Maybe that’s one reason Dolly has always felt so familiar and why my family considers her family/

If there is one Dolly Parton song that immediately brings my daughter Suzanne to mind, it is “Coat of Many Colors.” I remember how many times that song captured Suzanne’s attention. And that matters to me.

Because Coat of Many Colors isn’t really about a coat. It’s about a mother taking what she had and making something for her child. It’s about being embarrassed because you don’t have what everybody else has. It’s about learning that something made with love can be worth more than anything money could buy.

Dolly wrote the song about her own childhood experience with a handmade coat her mother made from scraps. The song became one of the defining pieces of her catalog and an enduring part of her story.

But when I hear it, I don’t just think about Dolly. I think about Suzanne. That’s the beautiful thing about music. Somebody else writes the song. But eventually, the song becomes yours.

Dolly didn’t stay behind a microphone. She became an actress, too and I’ve watched many of her movies over the years. But if you ask me for my all-time favorite, there isn’t even a question.

The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas and that is my girl movie. Because I think just about every woman would want to live in that big ol’ house and be taken away by some handsome man.

Then there is 9 to 5 and maybe your office didn’t look like theirs and maybe your boss wasn’t exactly the same. Maybe you never dreamed of putting your boss in a filing cabinet. But at times I wouldn’t mind putting Charlie and David in one. But you’ve probably had a day when you thought, If one more person asks me to do one more thing…

In 9 to 5 Dolly starred alongside Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin in the 1980 movie, and she wrote and performed the unforgettable title song. The song became a major crossover hit and earned Dolly Grammy Awards as well as an Academy Award nomination.

That’s Dolly and she didn’t just act in the movie. She gave the movie a song that became bigger than the movie itself. And then there is Steel Magnolias. The movie with Julia Roberts one of my all-time favorite movie stars.

That one gets me. There are movies you enjoy. And then there are movies that reach someplace deep inside you. Steel Magnolias is one of those for me. How about you? Do you like Steel Magnolia’s?

For me Dolly’s role as Truvy showed another side of her as an actress, and the movie became one of the memorable films of her career. And somehow, Dolly could walk into Hollywood and still be Dolly. She didn’t have to stop being herself to belong there.

Here’s where Charlie would probably tell me I’m telling on him. Because Charlie remembers Dolly’s songs. Even when he doesn’t want to admit it. He can sing them word for word. Just like David and I can.

We can be driving down the street and a Dolly song comes on, and suddenly somebody is singing. And sometimes it’s “Coat of Many Colors.” I’ll look over at David and he’s singing along.

Those are the moments I don’t ever want to take for granted. Because someday, those little moments become the memories we hold onto. And when Coat of Many Colors comes on television, we stop and watch it together.

It has become a date-night movie in our home. Not because we planned it. Not because we bought tickets. Not because we made reservations. It just happens. Dolly comes on television, and we sit down. Sometimes the best date nights are the ones you never planned.

One of Dolly’s greatest gifts has always been storytelling. She can take something ordinary and make you care about it. A coat. A girl named Jolene. A working woman. A heartbreak. A family. A mountain. A dream. A little bit of money. A whole lot of hope.

Her songs are filled with people who feel real because Dolly understood people. She understood the woman who was tired. The woman who was in love. The woman who had been hurt. The woman who wanted something better. The child who didn’t have much. The person who was trying to find their way.

And maybe that’s why people from so many different walks of life have found something to love in Dolly Parton. She never made you feel like you had to be exactly like her. She just invited you into the story.

Of course, we can’t talk about Dolly without talking about the rhinestones. The hair. The clothes. The heels. The unmistakable Dolly look. You know Dolly when you see her. But I’ve always thought there was something clever about that.

Dolly understood who she was. She created an image that was completely recognizable, and she never seemed embarrassed about it. She embraced femininity. She embraced glamour. She embraced humor. She embraced being different. And she made it part of her identity.

But the rhinestones aren’t the whole story. Neither is the hair. Neither is the voice. Neither is the fame. There is a woman underneath all of that who worked extraordinarily hard to build the life she dreamed about. That’s an important part of Dolly’s story. She dreamed big. And then she worked.

Dolly’s career eventually grew far beyond singing. She became a songwriter whose work was recorded by other artists. She became an actress. She became a television personality. She became a businesswoman.

She became a philanthropist. She became a champion for books and children. She became an important part of Tennessee’s cultural identity. And she built a legacy that reaches far beyond a record collection.

The Country Music Hall of Fame notes that Dolly’s influence eventually crossed country, pop, film, television, and business, while PBS describes her as a singer-songwriter whose work has crossed genres and generations.

That is quite a legacy for a little girl from the mountains of Tennessee. But maybe the most remarkable part is that Dolly’s story still feels personal. People don’t simply say, “I like Dolly Parton.”

They say: “My mama loved Dolly.” “My grandmother loved Dolly.” “My dad loved Dolly.” “I grew up listening to Dolly.” “That’s my favorite Dolly song.” “She reminds me of home.” “She reminds me of somebody I loved.” And that is when you know somebody has become more than famous. They have become part of people’s lives.

That’s what Dolly Parton means to me. She’s the woman my father-in-law loved. She’s part of those stories about Grandma and Willie Nelson. She’s connected to the part of Tennessee that was familiar to my in-laws. She’s connected to the coal-mining stories that remind me of my mother-in-law’s family.

She’s the woman whose “Coat of Many Colors” captured Suzanne’s attention again and again. She’s the singer David and I still sing along with in the car. She’s the movie that can turn an ordinary evening into date night. She’s the artist Charlie knows better than he sometimes wants to admit. And she’s proof that a person can come from very little and build something that reaches millions of people.

And this is only the beginning. Because we haven’t talked about Dolly’s journey through country music and into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. We haven’t talked about the woman behind the businesses and the empire she built.

We haven’t talked about Dolly and homeschooling. We haven’t talked about gospel music and Joyful Noise. We haven’t talked about all the family memories that Dolly’s music brings back.

And we haven’t talked about the incredible story behind the Imagination Library and her love of books. Those stories deserve their own chairs at the table. And they are coming sooner than later.

But for today, I simply want to remember the woman who has been part of so many people’s lives for so many years. Dolly Parton wasn’t just a singer. She wasn’t just an actress. She wasn’t just a songwriter.

She wasn’t just a woman in rhinestones. She was a storyteller. She was a dreamer. She was a businesswoman. She was a daughter. She was a wife. She was a friend to generations of people who never actually met her. And for families like mine, she became part of the soundtrack of our lives.

So, Dolly, thank you. Thank you for the songs we still sing. Thank you for the movies we still stop to watch. Thank you for the stories that remind us where we came from. Thank you for giving children, parents, grandparents, and families something to share.

And thank you for reminding us that a little girl from the Tennessee mountains could dream a very big dream—and then work hard enough to make it come true. Around here, when Dolly Parton comes on, we listen.

Sometimes we sing. Sometimes we laugh. Sometimes we stop what we’re doing and watch. And sometimes a song brings somebody we love right back into the room. That’s the kind of legacy that can’t be measured by awards, records, movie tickets, or dollars.

It’s measured in memories. And Dolly Parton has given us plenty of those. So, buttercup, pull up a chair. We’re just getting started. In the meantime I think I will crank up 9 to 5 just a little bit louder then I will switch to hard Candy Christmas. Come pull up a jar and join me I have a glass of Sweet Tea waiting on the front porch for you.

Thank you,

Glenda, Charlie and David Cates