This morning the air brings gentle hints of autumn. It holds coolness and damp. The seasons are shifting.
Alt text says this week’s photo is a person standing in front of a display of knitted clothes. I say it is, and that it is me in front of some of Kath’s designs at Wonderwool Wales. I also say that alt text missed the fact that I am wearing my Dolly Parton t-shirt. This is an older photo, but one which seems suited to this blog.
The title for this blog, better to be born lucky than rich, is one of my nan’s sayings. And whenever it rings in my ears it brings a smile to my face. Luck has given me things that I could never buy. And that t-shirt has led to many conversations with a whole host of good people.
Back in 2011 I opened an email and cried tears of joy. It was my Golden Ticket, my Charlie Bucket Moment. As a child I loved the story of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and the thought of the absolute excitement of unwrapping a chocolate bar to find a prize. I could imagine myself being the one to discover such a thing. I could see me freeze-framed in the moment of spotting the golden shine under the paper wrapper. And whether it was always in me or was planted in me from reading the book I believed there was a possibility it could be me when it came to competitions. I have won some things in my time including a bright yellow cuddly toy as a result of guessing the exact number of plastic hoops in a jar, and I have revelled in those moments of luck, but winning the opportunity of a meet and greet with the one and only Dolly Parton felt like a once in a lifetime, ‘can it really be true?’ moment.
I first listened to Dolly’s music as a young child because my mum had lots of her music including the album My Tennessee Mountain Home which was often played on the radiogram in our house. The storytelling of these songs delighted me, and as I listened to each song I felt like I was inhabiting the story of it and watching it as a film all at the same time. Dolly’s story captivated me. From humble beginnings to famous singer to true icon. Her humour, her wisdom, her sparkle, the way she did so much good with the money she made, her whole persona.
And luck meant that I was able to stand in the presence of an amazing person I had admired for so many years! There was magic in the air when Dolly stepped off her tour bus. Pure radiance. Stardust. Palpable joy. Afterwards I tried to put it into words for others, but I couldn’t seem to do it justice. I had met one of the most admirable people and the experience had exceeded my expectations so that I was beside myself in a giddy, dream come true kind of way. They say “don’t meet your heroes” but when it comes to Dolly Parton she was that beautiful, sparkly, angelic person in real life just like she was on tv and in my imagination. A person fully living their values and being fully present in the moment.
The fact that just under three years later I won a second meet and greet (and Kath could come too) made me feel as though a fairy godmother was out there granting wishes.
Much like I didn’t have the words to explain my feelings after meeting Dolly I struggled to find words when I heard that she had died on 25th August 2026. All I could do was sit quietly with my thoughts. Dolly was one of a kind. She has done so much for so many and ensured that her good work will continue. An astute joy bringer. And I am very much hoping to still be around on her 100th birthday when she has arranged for an unheard song to be released into the world.
In the meantime there’s plenty for me still to think about when it comes to luck and dreams and goals. And it’s nearly September, which for me after all those years in education still brings new year vibes and a desire to reflect on what to set down and what to carry forward. My annual reread of Dolly Parton’s Dream More book is calling.
I don’t yet have a poem about Dolly, but I often have vivid dreams and some years ago I awoke smiling after a wonderful dream where Dolly Parton had invited me to watch the soundcheck and we then went backstage before going for ice-cream! I dreamt about her on the night she died too. How cool is the mind that it can give these kinds of adventures in the dark of night?
Here’s to palpable joy.
Sue Finch 