Last summer, I showed 9 to 5 to my niece. There’s a risk in showing an 11 year old something you love. They’re programmed to think your old stuff is the definition of uncool and there is nothing they love more than dragging you for being uncool. But she loved it. We spent a lot of time in the car, driving her to and from friend’s houses. I’d play her stuff I thought she’d like, Florence and the Machine, Stevie Nicks, and sometimes Dolly. Once, just before I left to come back to Texas, my niece asked if we could listen to Dolly on the way home. Somehow, she knew all the words. I told her Dolly was our thing, my sisters and me. She said, “and me.” Maybe that’s the thing about Dolly. She’s our thing. Now she’s gone and scrolling through social media, it seems we have that much in common. That’s something to hold onto.
Each month, we are featuring embroidered art by Diana Weymar. This month’s piece references Lauren Hough’s essay on Dolly Parton.
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