My Mom (also named Dolly, real name Veronica, long story) died end of 2018, I inherited her vehicle. Disc in the disc player was Dolly's greatest hits. Made me smile and cry at the same time. I knew my Dolly LOVED the Dolly, but that moment became one of those that is carved deep in my brain.
You are a powerful writer, as it is a visceral experience reading your words. I'm in the car, I'm in the room. It's as if your experience becomes familiar to me. I love your writing.
Strong piece, superb pacing, from the somewhat horrifying but funny ducking of the butts and tough grandma to the heartbreak of the separation and the almost magical thinking of the correspondence to Dolly. Ending with a light touch of introducing Dolly to a less damaged (I’m guessing) next generation. That was a great album of songs, though.
This made me cry... I’m seeing my brother today for the first time in 4 years (def not the same, I know). But this hit me hard. Thank you, Lauren, this was a gift.
I hope Dolly finds your beautiful essay and reassures you that the only list you were on was a list of children she kept in her heart. But even if she doesn’t, you’ve got her music, her movies, her acts of generosity telling you the same thing: she will always love you, Lauren Hough. Sharing Dolly with your niece seems like a damn good way to show Dolly (and your niece) that you love them right back.
Your stories about your childhood always--and I mean always-- have such a way of making me feel like I was right there with you. The descriptions of the setting--this story it's the back seat of your grandma's car-- I can feel the heat, smell the smoke, feel the wind from the open windows blowing the air around. I cannot begin to tell you how these stories resonate with me, how I get teary feeling your emotions. Excellent piece.
I want to be this grandma. The kind that creates an indelible memory. I don't smoke cigarettes but I do love a diet coke. She's only 2 so there is time to find a playlist and Dolly is still on quite a few. Thanks for sharing this.
Last February, two tiny sheep turned up among a herd of cows on the ranch where I work. The little male was solid black, the female had black legs and belly, but the fur on her back was brown. Because being with the cows kept them relatively safe from coyotes, we allowed the herd to adopt them through calf season. In August, when the calves were weaned, we also separated the sheep from the cows.
The sheep were brought to my house, and proper names are required for all living things at my house. Their differences in appearance made them a perfectly matched odd-couple if that's possible. That delicate balance guided their naming in as little as three or four minutes. "Porter" and "Dolly" have been living in my side pen ever since, and I've been eager for them to have a pair of lambs.
Sadly, Dolly passed away in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. We believe the cause was pregnancy complications. Porter is inconsolable, so I sit with him and play Porter and Dolly's heartache duets for him on my phone. Neither of us can keep ourselves together when "Where You Go, I'll Follow You" shuffles into the rotation. I haven't dared play "I Will Always Love You." Knowing Dolly wrote that song specifically for Porter Wagoner would just be too much.
All of that to say this: Take comfort in knowing that you are not the only person from Texas to have obsessed over the radiance that is Dolly Parton. At least you didn't curse this poor little ram to heartbreak by naming him and his companion after one of the most devastating breakups in the history of country music.
Thanks Lauren, another beautiful story.
My Mom (also named Dolly, real name Veronica, long story) died end of 2018, I inherited her vehicle. Disc in the disc player was Dolly's greatest hits. Made me smile and cry at the same time. I knew my Dolly LOVED the Dolly, but that moment became one of those that is carved deep in my brain.
There’s so much heartbreak and beauty in these stories. Grateful you’re willing to share them.
You are a powerful writer, as it is a visceral experience reading your words. I'm in the car, I'm in the room. It's as if your experience becomes familiar to me. I love your writing.
This so resonates with me. Beautifully written and heartbreakingly tender.
Strong piece, superb pacing, from the somewhat horrifying but funny ducking of the butts and tough grandma to the heartbreak of the separation and the almost magical thinking of the correspondence to Dolly. Ending with a light touch of introducing Dolly to a less damaged (I’m guessing) next generation. That was a great album of songs, though.
I knew snippets of this, but it's great to read it all together. Holy shit, Lauren. Dolly helped you learn to write.
This made me cry... I’m seeing my brother today for the first time in 4 years (def not the same, I know). But this hit me hard. Thank you, Lauren, this was a gift.
I hope Dolly finds your beautiful essay and reassures you that the only list you were on was a list of children she kept in her heart. But even if she doesn’t, you’ve got her music, her movies, her acts of generosity telling you the same thing: she will always love you, Lauren Hough. Sharing Dolly with your niece seems like a damn good way to show Dolly (and your niece) that you love them right back.
Sublime. You've got a storytelling gift. I'm glad you share it here. Full of imagery and emotion. Thank you!
A beautiful piece of writing for so many reasons!
Your stories about your childhood always--and I mean always-- have such a way of making me feel like I was right there with you. The descriptions of the setting--this story it's the back seat of your grandma's car-- I can feel the heat, smell the smoke, feel the wind from the open windows blowing the air around. I cannot begin to tell you how these stories resonate with me, how I get teary feeling your emotions. Excellent piece.
Crying and crying and crying and crying
I want to be this grandma. The kind that creates an indelible memory. I don't smoke cigarettes but I do love a diet coke. She's only 2 so there is time to find a playlist and Dolly is still on quite a few. Thanks for sharing this.
Made me cry, as well. Dolly-obsessed is the only way to be.
Your writing makes me have feelings
Last February, two tiny sheep turned up among a herd of cows on the ranch where I work. The little male was solid black, the female had black legs and belly, but the fur on her back was brown. Because being with the cows kept them relatively safe from coyotes, we allowed the herd to adopt them through calf season. In August, when the calves were weaned, we also separated the sheep from the cows.
The sheep were brought to my house, and proper names are required for all living things at my house. Their differences in appearance made them a perfectly matched odd-couple if that's possible. That delicate balance guided their naming in as little as three or four minutes. "Porter" and "Dolly" have been living in my side pen ever since, and I've been eager for them to have a pair of lambs.
Sadly, Dolly passed away in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. We believe the cause was pregnancy complications. Porter is inconsolable, so I sit with him and play Porter and Dolly's heartache duets for him on my phone. Neither of us can keep ourselves together when "Where You Go, I'll Follow You" shuffles into the rotation. I haven't dared play "I Will Always Love You." Knowing Dolly wrote that song specifically for Porter Wagoner would just be too much.
All of that to say this: Take comfort in knowing that you are not the only person from Texas to have obsessed over the radiance that is Dolly Parton. At least you didn't curse this poor little ram to heartbreak by naming him and his companion after one of the most devastating breakups in the history of country music.