“Well done, good and faithful servant!” – Matthew 25:23
Like most Americans and many around the world I have spent much of the past week in mourning over the loss of Dolly Parton who indisputably was one of the most beloved entertainers of our time, and even more remarkably one of the most amazing human beings. For me, though, her death caused more than a lump in my throat and tears welling up in my eyes, it also forced me to reveal a secret I have kept hidden since my adolescent years, even from my wife of 55 years. Only my parents knew.
When I was in high school, you see, every Saturday afternoon around 5:00 pm I would sneak away from whatever I was doing and retreat to my parents’ den to watch the Porter Waggoner Show on TV. I was absolutely addicted to it. I particularly loved that genre of country music, the famous guest stars of that era he invited on, and especially the regulars who performed in his band. I would sit and fantasize about picking the banjo like Buck Trent, or playing the fiddle like Mack McGaha who could dance a jig in his high-healed cowboy boots while playing Orange Blossom Special on his fiddle at the same time. (How did he do that?) I dreamed of being just like those guys. Then, of course, there was Dolly Parton. God bless Porter Waggoner for introducing her to all of us!
Why the secret, you ask? It was a joke really, that had to do with my dad. Daddy always fancied himself as being more the sophisticated type, favoring the highbrow when it came to music. So, when he would walk in and catch me listening to hillbilly music on TV he would tease me unmercifully. Except . . . I began to notice how more often than not he would hang out with me to watch the entire show. And even though he groused about it the whole time, I think he was sort of fond of country music too, just that his highbrow taste wouldn’t allow him to admit it. I suppose that’s the reason I always kept it a secret.
So, when Dolly passed away last week all those precious memories came flooding back, like my Daddy poking fun at me, and how I used to fantasize about becoming a Buck Trent on the banjo or Mack McGaha on the fiddle. And then there was Dolly, not Dolly the singer-songwriter-entertainer, or even Dolly the philanthropist, but that magnanimous human being she was. If only we all could aspire to become more like her, even if just a fraction. What a role model she was! “Well done, good and faithful servant.”