Perceiving Parton’s Potluck

Written By Jonathan Krogh

Dear Legend Lovers:

With the passing of Dolly Parton last Tuesday, newsfeeds exploded with nostalgia acknowledging her magnificent blend of simple country style, relentlessly graceful inclusion and deeply shrewd business sense. Her ability to steer her brand through the maze of conservative and liberal adoration was astounding, reflected in the current hyper-antagonisms over who holds the right to claim her legacy.

One can scarcely imagine any individual receiving both the current administration’s half-mast flag order and a glowing online eulogy by Jane Fonda. Praised by online tabloids and The New York Times alike, Parton’s legacy is far too big to embrace. And as I muse over the flood of affection, it is difficult to pinpoint the rags-to-riches trajectory of her boundless talent. Complexly amazing!

Growing up in Nebraska, I never developed the ear for Appalachian twang. Being a ‘college boy,’ country was the background music of far too many potential brawls. I developed a certain flinch when the jukebox selections leaned into songs about dogs and trucks. But Dolly was different. My favorite talk show moment was Parton explaining her substantial make-up budget. “It takes a lot of money to look this cheap,” was her comeback to her business manager’s proposed cost cutting. There was a powerful knowing that both embraced and understood the look. She was profoundly serious about not taking herself too seriously.

That is why yesterday I read with skepticism the NY Times article about the demise of the country church. According to the authors, those white clapboard steepled boxes that once dotted rural America helped forge Dolly’s identity. The writers bounced between language praising their inclusion and demonizing their exclusion, landing quite predictably on a condemnation of their narrowmindedness regarding the LGBTQ community. Clearly, the authors were writing about the southern rural church as outsiders, they concluded that the megachurch was responsible for the little church’s demise. They thrived because they contained a captive audience; you could not choose your neighbors, so you had to figure out how to live with them. I was reminded that it took a small-town southern president to produce “Don’t ask, don’t tell” as a repressive shorthand for cultural tolerance.

Now with online connection replacing geographic imprisonment, we are all free to hunker down in our private silos of algorithm-fed identity. Whatever your character or kink, there is a social media community for that. Unfortunately, their potlucks are profoundly disappointing, feeding us with the empty illusion that we should take ourselves and our identities far too seriously. That is why online pundits criticize each other over who holds rightful claim to mourn Dolly’s passing. But her reputation for welcoming everyone to the table regardless of their dish was not an act; it was her deep appreciation to see that what one group dismisses as cheap may in fact be extremely expensive.

Musing over the high cost of inclusion, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
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Jonathan Krogh
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