This week has been full of reading stories of and tributes to Dolly Parton, moments when her life connected with theirs. What a treat! I’ve also been replaying my own life choices this past week, because I said no to Dolly.
While in music school, I befriended one of her bandmates and longtime friends. I’ll never forget the first time I met Dolly, as I looked down to make eye contact (I’m only 5’3”), but her hair far surpassed my height. Heels were involved for both of us. She was a wonder — kind, delightful, acted like you were the only person in the room. We joked about having high voices (sopranos) and still trying to tell stories with our squeaky pipes. Hers much better than mine, obviously.
Laurel Cluthe
I went on to meet her a few times, as our shared contact was making plans for her upcoming tour. Everything about Dolly worked a little differently than I had experienced with other musicians and their teams, as her team was equally (if not more) concerned about who I was as a person, my character, as they were of my skills. It makes sense, wanting to establish trust from the beginning, as you spend 24/7 with this team for months at a time. It was an interesting interview process.
Shortly after graduating, I was waiting for the call, hoping I’d get to work with her but knowing I had to finish up two internships over the summer to officially complete my degree — one at a tour booking agency and one at a prison ministry.
The call came to join her touring team and get to be in her orbit. The problem was that it came on my first day at the prison ministry internship, the day I found out I’d get to work with hundreds of churches and thousands of incarcerated individuals and their families to help keep them connected. I’d get to help organize year-round events for kids to see their moms and dads in prison, to support their caregivers during those difficult months of waiting, including with summer camps/activities and Christmas parties. And I’d get to go to Washington, D.C., to advocate for children of the incarcerated. Truly amazing work, to be a voice for the voiceless.
Through a stream of tears, I said no to Dolly’s offer. She and our mutual friend understood. It hurt, yet some calls are stronger than others. And I’ve gotten to admire her from afar for 20 years since that call.
And, not too long after that call, I met a random guy in a songwriting class, doubly falling in love with him and serving with him in full-time ministry. And these loves have far surpassed any tour season.
I remain grateful for being seen by and invited to such an adventure with Dolly. And now my 3-year-old, May, and I sing Dolly songs with her little karaoke machine, and life is so, so good. She’ll always know about an incredible woman who genuinely lived love out loud, was unapologetically herself, built community like no other and was surrounded by the resilience of butterflies.
Laurel Cluthe serves as staff chaplain at Memorial Hermann Memorial City Medical Center in Houston.