In addition to writing and recording the original version of “I Will Always Love You,” Dolly Parton is a successful entrepreneur and philanthropist who has also made her mark in movies and literature.
Dolly Parton was up in poverty and didn’t see a toilet until she was eight years old, yet she is now a dedicated supporter of many philanthropic initiatives.
A Poverty-Shaped Childhood
Dolly Parton, who was born in Tennessee on January 19, 1946, was the fourth child out of twelve and had to deal with financial difficulties. Her mother, who was descended from Wales, delighted the family with stories and songs, while her father worked as an illiterate sharecropper. Parton’s parents made sure their kids had clothes, food, and shelter in spite of their own hardships. Thinking back on her childhood, Parton revealed:
“I never felt poor, even though we were.” We always had a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, and enough to eat. Mama and Daddy identified individuals in worse condition than ourselves. I felt like everything was normal. We were poor, but you wouldn’t know it unless you remembered sleeping on shared beds, eating beans and cornbread, using newspaper as insulation, and having to go outdoors to use the restroom.
Acquiring Knowledge of Life’s Fundamentals
The Parton family was jammed into a tiny one-room cabin next to the Little Pigeon River, where they lived outside most of the time. Parton said that she didn’t use an indoor restroom until she was eight years old, and even then, she hesitated because she thought it would “suck them right down.” During the winter, the family manufactured their own soap and took weekly baths; however, due of her roommate arrangements in high school, she had to take daily baths.
Impact of Family on Professional Achievement
Notwithstanding the challenges, Parton gives her family, who have always been her biggest love and musical inspiration, a lot of the credit for her success. Her songs and performances reflect her love for them.
Dolly Parton, who has a $375 million net worth, is as generous as she is successful. She established the Dollywood Foundation in 1988, originally providing scholarships to her high school classmates. The organization grew over time to assist teachers and kids from different schools who needed their assistance. The Imagination Library is one noteworthy project. Originally launched in 1995 as a memorial to Parton’s father, it has expanded to provide nearly two million children in all 50 states with approximately 1.3 million books each month. In 2018, as the program commemorated its 100 millionth book distribution, Parton said she never thought it would be this successful.
Kind Deeds During Tough Times
Dolly Parton has demonstrated her willingness to assist in times of need. Following the horrific 2016 wildfires in the Great Smoky Mountains, she established the My People Fund, which generated over $9 million to support 900 families. After her niece’s leukemia treatment was successful, she made more contributions to Vanderbilt University Medical Center.
Her altruistic endeavors encompass aiding institutions such as the American Red Cross, charities fighting HIV/AIDS, and animal rights organizations. She started speaking out in favor of Covid vaccinations in 2020 and gave $1 million to help create the Moderna vaccine.
Giving from the Heart Generosity
Dolly Parton is a selfless person at heart. She admits that she enjoys giving to others and that it makes her happy to change their life. Her incredible path from humble origins to success has undoubtedly influenced her commitment to philanthropy, as it has turned her into a compassionate person.
How do you feel about Dolly Parton’s giving? Do you think her upbringing has an influence on her charitable work? Express your opinions and assist in bringing attention to this amazing woman’s philanthropic contributions.
My Rich Husband Forbade Me from Entering One Room in Our House – I Could Not Stop Crying When I Saw What He Was Hiding
When Alexis’ parents forced her to marry Robert, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. Later, Alexis broke the one rule her husband gave her and entered the room he warned her about, unleashing secrets she wasn’t prepared for.
I couldn’t understand why my parents wanted me to get married before I found someone myself.
“Alexis,” my mother said, “Robert is a catch. He’s a wealthy man who will take care of you. You wouldn’t even have to work.”
I couldn’t refuse. My father had made it clear.
“You marry Robert, Alexis,” he said, puffing on his cigar. “Or you can figure out your own living arrangements.”
In a sense, Robert was my prince charming. Our family had a bakery, which was losing customers because we had no gluten-free options on the menu.
“We will continue to bake what we know,” my father insisted.
Our marriage was definitely an arranged one. Robert’s demeanor was cold, and he refused to let me get to know him properly. I don’t know how my father arranged our connection.
Our wedding was a spectacle of Robert’s affluence, nothing short of extravagant. Robert’s wedding planner had thought of everything.
My wedding dress was a custom piece that he commissioned for me. But even through our wedding planning, we barely spoke.
“I’m looking forward to being married,” he admitted one evening, a few days before the wedding.
“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” he added.
That was the closest Robert had gotten to letting me in.
Two days after our wedding, I moved into our new home.
“Come, I’ll show you around,” Robert said.
He took me around our home, a mansion boasting luxuries I’d never imagined before: sprawling golf courses, a shimmering swimming pool, and a fleet of staff at our beck and call.
“It’s beautiful,” I said when we got to the kitchen. “Everything is beautiful.”
“Now, Alexis, this house belongs to you too,” he declared with a hint of pride.
I smiled at the stranger standing in front of me. Maybe we were going to make something of our marriage.
“But one thing, Alexis,” he said. “There’s one rule. The attic. Never go in there.”
I nodded at Robert. I couldn’t fathom why I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere in the house. But I also recognized that I didn’t know my husband well enough yet. So, I had to obey.
A few days later, Robert went to a meeting, leaving me alone in our massive home.
Driven by curiosity stronger than any warning, I found myself ascending the stairs to the attic. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time.
A quick in and out, I thought to myself.
Pushing the door open, I was met with a sight that sent me to my knees, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know why I was crying. I didn’t know why I felt confusion and relief at the same time.
The attic, dimly lit, seemed to be a vault of my husband’s hidden memories. Childhood toys lay scattered, each carrying untold stories. Old postcards and photographs of Robert’s life before me. Among the relics were letters from a young boy to his father, a soldier away at war.
“How dare you come in here? Now, I have to change the locks in my own home because my wife does not respect my requests?”
Robert’s face turned red with rage.
“I just want to understand,” I stammered. “I just want to know you, Robert.”
Slowly, his rage dissolved, and he seemed to see me as a companion in his world, instead of the intruder he had made me out to be.
“Alexis,” he said, “Come, let’s sit.”
Robert led me to the living room.
“My father was a stern man. He was a soldier and he believed in keeping emotions locked away. These are the only things I have of a time when I felt loved,” he confessed.
My heart caught on his every word as his voice broke.
What followed was a revelation of his soul. Stories of a lonely childhood, of a boy yearning for his father’s approval, unfolded in our home.
In those vulnerable moments, I didn’t see the distant, cold man I had married but a boy who had never stopped seeking love and acceptance. He just didn’t know how to go about it.
In those few hours, things changed. Robert started letting me in. And now, years later, our home is filled with the cries and laughter of our daughter, April.
Through our daughter, Robert healed. He healed for himself, and for our daughter.
We’ve packed away everything from the attic, so it is no longer a shrine to Robert’s past but is now my little reading nook.
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