In 1970, Joni Mitchell wrote the song “Big Yellow Taxi” due to her despondence at the negative effect humans sometimes have upon nature. Her song offers a haunting reminder that introspection and reflection are sadly underappreciated skills, especially for projects that would be best served by carefully considering their impact upon nature. Since 1970, the world has sped up to a breakneck pace. That pace has magnified the varying spectrum of humanity’s ability for good and evil.
Social media allows instantaneous communication about literally anything without reasonable guardrails for a coherent discussion. The number of billionaires increases annually with no discernable benefit for humanity. Orwellian levels of war linger with constant lies used to bolster the need for more war funds. Manufactured fear and loathing of our neighbors continue despite near-universal religious, moral, and ethical tenets to love your neighbor. Unfair healthcare costs in the supposedly most wealthy nation on the planet continue to bankrupt its citizens. The supposedly most powerful person on the planet spends his limited time in power changing the names of bodies of water, the names of buildings that attracts his envy, and the name of a department that didn’t satisfy his more violent predilections. A third of the White House is in shambles and a certain pool’s green algae both offer up a mirror to our own despondence.
Yet Mitchell sings, “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it's gone.” Those lyrics continue offering a clear reminder to pay attention, yet the reminder isn’t always enough, especially when a legendary person succumbs to mortality. Dolly Parton’s recent passing offered an outpouring of compassionate remembrances of her positivity upon the world. We seemingly expect legends to live forever, hoping that their positivity continues unabated. And when those legends fade away, we must push past mere hope. We must take the baton they were holding.
Parton embraced life to its fullest with her groundbreaking songs, her welcoming smile and good-natured discussions, and her Imagination Library. She wasted no time in ensuring that she worked toward the betterment of humanity. Parton fully embraced what she had and utilized it. Parton offered her wealth to those in need, and her positive impact will be long-lasting given her predilection for generosity.
The Imagination Library continues to be a shining example of one human’s goodness. The Imagination Library’s site states, “There is simply no limit on how far we can take this program and to what ends of the earth, but it is an absolute impossibility without your help.” That statement requires some unpacking to help grasp Parton’s knowing impact upon children’s ability to read and their access to books. She understood that great accessibility to books offers children a pathway to success. She also understood that there is no limit to the project. To recognize that there is no limit to help children learn, grow, and help society is a marvelous thing to behold. Finally, Parton understood that interdependence is necessary — to have no limits for the project requires your help. A vastly wealthy person, who made a lasting impact upon humanity and the planet, understood her limitations. Her humility allowed her program to thrive by simply asking for help.
Despite Mitchell’s admonition that we don’t know what we have until it's gone, Parton understood what she had and how she could positively impact the world. And through Parton’s passing, we can be simultaneously shocked by her sudden absence and inspired to follow her lead. Through her over thirty-year focus on educating children through additional books — a pathway to inspiration, knowledge, personal growth, and increased empathy — we can recognize and focus on things that we are losing. We don’t have to wait until they are gone to grasp their potential loss.
Through Parton and Mitchell, two powerful and influential women, we are offered a chance to remember humanity’s ability for greatness and goodness. Will you join me on that path?
Dan Brigman is a Warrensburg resident.
