We must keep on singing

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A generation of baby-boomer entertainers has been leaving their earthly vessels in recent years — Dolly Parton, Jaye P. Morgan and Tim Curry all left the other day.

We must brace ourselves as so many other giants like Dolly age — we all know who I mean — and when they go, it will be another series of body blows to our collective psyche. My generation produced some great songwriters and unforgettable songs — no brag, just fact.

Willie, Bob, Paul and Ringo, Mick and Keith, Joni, Judy, Paul and Art, Carole, James — and others I’ve forgotten at this moment — Their recordings are their legacy, and we will always have the recordings, Lord willing, to remember them and carry on.

We live in a wonderful world that feels a little heavier today, because Dolly lifted us all up and she isn’t there anymore. I guess it’s up to us to keep that light shining.

This is how Jesus said they’ll know

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I had Wednesday’s blog ready to go by the time word came down Tuesday that Dolly Parton had died. I considered writing something quickly, but what could I add to the millions and billions of words already out there, most of which spoke our grief better than I could?

When life gives me a body blow, I seem to wait a day or two to absorb it before I can start writing about it. (It’s the exact opposite of the advice I gave reporters back in the day, which was “don’t talk about it, write it down, NOW.”)

So, a day later, let me give it a try. 

Dolly Parton was a gifted singer and songwriter who used her talents to make other people’s lives better. She earned a lot of money and used it to make sure children can read, knowing that reading and writing — communication! — are the tools to make a better world.

She was the very picture of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control — the fruit of the spirit.

Jesus said they’ll know we are Christians by our love. Above everything else that can be said, and has been said, about Dolly Parton, let it be known far and wide that above all, this was a Christian. She is what a Christian looks like.

Heavens to Dorothy

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What if I slept on the other side of the bed for a while? What if I played the other side of the LP? What if I flipped the pancake one more time?

Would it taste the same? Would it smell the same? What difference would it make? What if the amber waves of grain were a different color? What if the grass was crabbier on your side of the fence?

What if I know what the heck I was talking about? What if I wasn’t an imposter after all? What if I took the road more traveled? What if I dared to eat a peach? What if “to be” was just the same as “not to be”?

What if I just leaned into the cliche every time? The chicken did cross the road safely, after all, and when I walked a mile in your shoes, it pinched a little but my feet survived.

Have I been trying too hard or not hard enough? What if I tried softer?

All along I have had the power to find my way home, but if you’d told me, I wouldn’t have believed you. First I had to walk many miles along the road laid with yellow brick, and I needed to make friends along the way. I don’t make friends easily, I guess, and not because I sang songs to myself and fell into a pigpen. I needed my puppy to show me the scary man was all bluster and smoke and mirrors.

Sometimes I have no idea where I’m going with this, and all of a sudden I discover how much fun I’m having making nonsense. It’s almost as if nonsense makes more sense than sense itself. You know what I mean, don’t you?

And all I had to do was sleep on the other side of the bed for a while. Maybe next I’ll sleep with my head at the foot of the bed. I draw the line at sleeping with my feet on the pillow.