A Little Piece of Dolly’s Idyllwild Story
I never met Dolly Parton.
But when I heard today that she had died, I cried.
I know I’m hardly alone in that. Dolly somehow made millions of people who never met her feel like we knew her.
I think I was lucky enough to get just a little closer.
I sold Dolly’s former Idyllwild home twice in one year.
Dolly purchased the cabin because Idyllwild reminded her of the mountains of her native Tennessee. It was close enough to Los Angeles that she could visit when she wanted to get away and have a little taste of the mountain life she had known as a child.
Longtime locals remember Dolly spending time here. I’ve heard stories of her walking into town with her mother, who spent quite a bit of time at the cabin. And apparently Dolly wasn’t disguising herself for the occasion. She walked into town in full makeup, colorful clothes and those iconic high heels.
I’ve also been told she especially loved the local Chinese restaurant.
I love knowing that Dolly was just here. Walking our streets. Eating Chinese food. Enjoying these mountains.
Eventually, Dolly gifted the property to a charity. When the charity later sold the home, nothing was removed.
And I mean nothing.
The furnishings, artwork, collectibles and all the little things that make a house personal had been chosen or placed there by Dolly.
There was a beautiful tea set a friend had given her, still accompanied by the original gift letter explaining how to use it.
There were collectibles that gave little glimpses into her tastes and personality.
And then there was the custom toilet seat lid shaped like a guitar.
Of course, Dolly Parton had a guitar-shaped toilet seat.
These weren’t things assembled later to turn a celebrity’s former home into a museum. They were simply things Dolly had chosen, received, used and left behind.
Those little details made her presence in the cabin feel very real.
My clients absolutely loved Dolly, and they loved the cabin. They bought it with every intention of making it their own.
But while we were in escrow, I found another Idyllwild home that simply suited them better.
So, they did something a little unusual.
They bought both.
Over the next several months, they gave Dolly’s cabin some much-needed attention. They put on a new roof, stained the decks and took care of other deferred maintenance. They also hung an autographed image of Dolly in the house, a little acknowledgment of the woman who had loved the cabin before them.
Less than a year after they purchased it, they asked me to sell it.
We received multiple offers, and I had the privilege of selling Dolly’s cabin for the second time in a year.
Another wonderful couple bought it.
And they absolutely love it.
That makes me especially happy today.
Because houses have histories. People come and go, and every once in a while, you get to be the person entrusted with carrying a little piece of that history from one owner to the next.
For a short time, I got to do that with a little piece of Dolly’s history.
But that’s not really why I’m sad today.
I’m sad because Dolly was a light in a sometimes-dark world.
She was funny without being cruel. Outrageous without taking herself too seriously. She was generous, she loved people, and she seemed to understand that making someone smile was not a frivolous thing to do with your life.
And Dolly changed the world in the small ways that truly mattered.
She made sure children had books to read. She helped people when they needed help. She even created a program that paid middle school kids to stay in school.
None of those things were as glamorous as the rhinestones, the enormous hair or the stages she performed on. But I think they tell us far more about who Dolly was.
She had an enormous life, and she used it to make other people’s lives a little better.
Dolly wanted to bring people joy.
And at that, she succeeded beyond measure.
And today, there is something incredibly powerful about knowing that millions of people I will never meet are feeling this same loss.
We’re remembering different things. We have different stories about why she mattered to us. But we’re grieving the same woman.
Dolly spent her life bringing people together through music, laughter, generosity and kindness.
Somehow, today, she’s bringing us together again in our grief.
Brené Brown said it beautifully:
“You left our hearts better than you found them. Thank you, Dolly.”
I think that’s exactly why so many of us are grieving someone we never actually knew.
I didn’t know Dolly.
But I got to walk through the little mountain home she chose because it reminded her of where she came from. I got to see some of the things she loved and some of the things other people had given her with love.
And I got to hear the stories of Dolly walking through our little town in high heels with her mom.
Today, all of that feels like a gift.
I’m genuinely sad she’s gone.
I’m glad she found Idyllwild.
I’m glad a little piece of her will always be part of this mountain’s history.
I’m very glad she was here.
And I will always love you, Dolly.
