Every generation had its own Dolly Parton

When news broke yesterday that Dolly Parton had died , one of the first people I thought of was my friend's 8-year-old daughter. To her, Parton wasn't simply a country star from her parents' generation. She was one of her own heroes.

The girl had recently chosen Parton for a major school project about changemakers: people who had made a positive contribution to the world. She loved Parton's music, but what impressed her most was the Imagination Library and the millions of books Parton had provided to children. Her fascination even helped inspire the family's summer trip to Dollywood.

Then my 71-year-old dad texted me about how sad he was.

"Everybody — and I mean every one of us — loved her," he wrote. "Who else has done that? Particularly in these times. We are all mourning this one. It hits hard."

He and my friend's daughter are separated by more than six decades and discovered Parton in completely different ways. Yet somehow, the superstar belonged equally to both of them.

In Metairie, La., 7-year-old Elsie Novak marked the loss in her own way. After hearing the news, she dressed in head-to-toe pink — complete with a cowboy hat and boots — pulled out her pink guitar and paid tribute to Dolly .

That was Parton's rarest kind of staying power. She didn't simply retain the fans who grew up alongside her. Across eight decades, she kept creating new ways for people to find her.

For some, the doorway was "Jolene." For others, it was 9 to 5 , Whitney Houston's version of "I Will Always Love You" or Miley Cyrus calling her "Aunt Dolly" on Hannah Montana . Children met her through Dollywood, an Imagination Library book, a pandemic bedtime story or even — as my own 7-year-old daughter did three years ago — a brightly colored Gap T-shirt.

There was always another doorway into Dolly.

Parton first entered American homes in the 1960s through The Porter Wagoner Show . By the end of the following decade, she had crossed beyond country music with songs including "Here You Come Again." Then came the blockbuster film 9 to 5 and its chart-topping theme song, followed by The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas , "Islands in the Stream" with Kenny Rogers and Steel Magnolias .

She became a star people could grow up alongside, but she never became trapped in the era that first made her famous.

Yahoo writer Dana Yewbank discovered Parton as an "awkward teenager" fumbling her way through learning to play guitar. She doesn't remember where she first heard "Jolene," but she remembers what it did to her.

"'Jolene' really grabbed me and planted me on a particular musical path," Yewbank says. "There are very few songs that have affected me that much."

After learning to play the tune, she performed it "ad nauseam" at open mic nights in her town. Her mother still asks her to play it whenever she picks up a guitar.

"I was already a singer — a choir kid — but that song really helped me find my own voice and sensibility within folk and country music," she says.

Of course, there is also a simpler explanation for the song's reach.

"It's just such an absolute banger," Yewbank bluntly (and accurately) puts it.

The riff is addictive, the story immediate and the desperation in Parton's voice as urgent now as it was when "Jolene" was released in 1974. Artists across genres have continually reinterpreted it, giving new listeners a doorway into Parton's music.

One of those artists was Miley Cyrus , who did more than bring "Jolene" to her own fans: She became Parton's clearest bridge to a younger generation.

Parton appeared as Aunt Dolly on Disney Channel's Hannah Montana , mirroring her real-life role as Cyrus's godmother. Cyrus, in turn, made "Jolene" part of her own performances and introduced Parton to viewers who hadn't been alive for her biggest country and pop hits.

Parton understood exactly what that relationship had done for her career. "You really introduced me to a whole new set of fans, young ones," Parton told Cyrus . (Young fans mourning Parton this week confirmed as much: "The first time I ever saw Dolly Parton was on [the] Hannah Montana series, and I have loved her ever since," one fan posted on X .)

That connection was more than a famous friend lending credibility to a Disney show. Parton and Cyrus seemed to recognize something in each other: the huge voices, the exaggerated images and the refusal to let others decide who they should be. As Cyrus grew up, their relationship allowed fans to grow with both of them.

Parton also created a connection with children that didn't depend on their parents' musical tastes.

She founded Dolly Parton's Imagination Library in 1995, inspired by her father, who never learned to read or write. What began as a program sending books to children in her East Tennessee home county grew into an international literacy initiative. It has now distributed more than 300 million free books to children from birth to age 5 and sends more than 3 million books each month, according to the organization .

Some children took that relationship literally. An Indiana preschooler, Hallie Day, began carrying a picture of Parton everywhere she went and calling the singer her "best friend." Her family's affection for Parton began with the Imagination Library: Whenever a new book arrived, her mother would tell the children it was "from Dolly."

After going viral on TikTok last year, Hallie's mother told People her daughter eventually fell in love with the music too, particularly "Coat of Many Colors." But Parton represented something larger to her. "She inspires Hallie to be loud, bubbly and completely herself ," she said. "I couldn't ask for a better role model for my daughter."

To many of those children, Parton was simply "the Book Lady," a title she once said meant more to her than being called the queen of country music.

"I love to sing, I love to write, but I have loved doing this for the kids," she said on Today . "There's nothing more important than our little kids, to make an impression on them when they're young and to teach them the right things early on."

During the pandemic, that mission took on a new form. In April 2020, as families faced isolation and uncertainty, Parton launched Goodnight With Dolly , a 10-week online series in which she read children's books from bed. She began with The Little Engine That Could and said she wanted "to share a story and to share some love." The series remains available through the Imagination Library .

That was how Yahoo editor Erin Donnelly's then-toddler son Beau discovered her. To children like him, Parton wasn't a legacy performer being introduced through an old song or movie. She was a comforting presence who showed up at bedtime during a frightening and confusing moment in their childhood.

Other children encountered Parton through books of a different kind. My Little Golden Book About Dolly Parton , released in 2021, turned her life into a story for readers ages 4 to 8, tracing her journey from a childhood in rural Tennessee to becoming a singer, songwriter, actor, philanthropist and cultural icon. A board book edition now introduces that story to babies.

Then there are the less profound — but no less real — introductions.

My daughter Jolie recognized Dolly because of a Gap T-shirt. She didn't know "Coat of Many Colors" or understand the significance of the woman smiling on the front. She simply loved the colors. Then we started playing her music.

A T-shirt may be a superficial doorway, but it is still a doorway. Children often meet an icon through an image before they know the work or the history behind it. Dolly, with the towering hair, rhinestones and bright colors, was instantly recognizable even to people who couldn't name one of her songs.

By the time my friend and her family arrived at Dollywood this summer, the daughter who had done her school project on Parton already understood that Dolly was more than a famous face.

They saw families spanning generations and a park where music and Smoky Mountain traditions mattered as much as the roller coasters. Parton's relatives performed there. The family was also struck by how varied and, in her experience, welcoming the crowd felt.

Dollywood opened in Pigeon Forge, Tenn., in 1986. Four decades later, the theme park and Parton's affiliated East Tennessee businesses attract more than 4 million visitors annually and have created thousands of jobs and opportunities in the region, according to Parton's official biography .

The girl who had studied Dolly's charitable work in a classroom could now see what it looked like for someone to reinvest in the place that raised her.

That may be why Parton moved so easily across generations. Her image was larger than life, but her impact was tangible: She was a glittering movie star who could also put a book in a child's hands. She never chased younger audiences by disguising her age or sanding away what made her distinctive. She simply kept creating new ways for people to find her.

Her rarest gift may have been ensuring that no generation had to borrow Dolly from the one before it. She gave each one a Dolly of its own.