On Who We Choose to Be

Not having an obituary pre-written for this day isn’t a function of short-sightedness so much as a stubborn refusal to accept the idea that this day would come at all, so singular was her life and her work.

I’m not one for celebrity worship– the Saint Dolly of Sevierville prayer candles always struck me as too on-the-nose– but, again, hers is such a singular case. She represented so much of what America– what humankind, period– could choose to be if only it made such choices.

The notion that the generational poverty of one’s birthright cannot stifle extraordinary talents and that those talents, in fact, will be rewarded with generational wealth, international fame, and a degree of reverence such that no one dare speak ill of you on your passing? It’s the kind of Horatio Alger myth that’s been baked into our culture for centuries now, that most all of us recognize is not at all tuned to the frequencies of the world we actually live in.

But she wasn’t really tuned to those frequencies, was she?

That she accumulated so much wealth and goodwill and then gave so much of it back and in so many ways, it gives lie to the idea that wealth and power must corrupt. The corruption we see now among the billionaire class is only who they choose to be.

And to have done so while retaining control of her brand and narrative, in the face of such rampant misogyny and classism? Consider what you actually know about her genuine personal, private life versus what you actually know about her public persona and brand identity. The gap is vast.

That was by design, always. She held fierce boundaries around her private life while building a persona on the contradiction of selflessness and generosity in all its forms, while wanting people to see (most of… some things she did quietly…) that generosity performed.

“What Would Dolly Do?” doesn’t work any other way.

Walter Chaw wrote upon her passing that Olivia Newton-John’s “brand was kindness,” a spot-on assessment of her unique place in the culture.

Similarly, Dolly’s brand was generosity.

She chose to be The Greater Good itself. That’s what we’ve lost.