Before I get started on the main topic, Dear
Ones, let us have a few moments of silence for Saint Dolly, whose
family, as the entire galaxy knows by now, announced her passing on August 25, 2026.
Dolly Parton was loved by, and loved, pretty much everybody:
young and old, Black and White, left and right. Regarding left
and right, she was widely known for deliberately staying out of
partisan politics throughout her long career. She wanted to unify
and entertain, not divide and alienate. She even turned down the Presidential Medal of Freedom, three
different times, from presidents of both parties.
Dolly had a unique ability to connect with people all across the
political spectrum, which is why her passing has elicited
tributes from many factions in the culture wars. Even #NeverWasMyPresident Donald John Trump ordered that U.S flags be lowered to half-staff for a week in her
honor.
I think he was right to do this, and it's one of the few decent
things he's ever done. It still doesn't make up for his obscene lionization of fallen hatemonger Charlie
Kirk, of which the order for flag
lowering was but one aspect, but it's decent. (Good thing for
Dolly that she never criticized him; otherwise the flags would
have stayed at full staff and he would probably be celebrating
her passing.)
But Trump's clumsily worded praise on Truth Social seemed focused on Dolly's accomplishments as a singer
("and far beyond" is really pretty ambiguous), and it's
very possible that he doesn't know -- as well as unlikely that
anybody around him is going to press the point -- that Dolly was
at least as well known for her altruism, her generosity, and her
amazing philanthropic deeds as she was for her music. Possibly
even better known. The list of her good deeds would fill a book, but here's a summary from Billboard.
And she was also known for her advocacy. Shush, Nappy Nurse Natalie: don't
tell Donny, but Dolly famously stood up for some of the very
people who are reviled by this administration and the whole MAGA
crowd.
She repeatedly expressed support for racial justice and the Black community, and, though she did not participate in protests, she implied her support for the Black Lives Matter
movement. In 2018, she removed the name "Dixie" from a dinner
theater attraction at her famous theme park, Dollywood, due to its Confederate origins; she said that problems
should be fixed as soon as they are recognized. She was also an outspoken ally for decades for the LGBTQ+ community. Her theme park hosts an annual LGBTQ+ pride event, and
she has consistently opposed discriminatory legislation.
There's no way around it: Dolly Parton was woke as hell. She
talked woke, though in as anodyne and apolitical a manner as
possible, and she damn sure walked woke.
Widely loved though she was, it's also true that during her life
she did get some criticism from the right for her stances, especially regarding LGBTQ+ rights. Southern "culture" diehards were plenty pissed about her removal of the word
"Dixie" from her theme park
attraction. Some conservative factions indignantly protested the idea that Dolly was supportive
of Black Lives Matter. For the most
part, however, her attempts to unify rather than divide were
successful, which made it easy for bigots to forget that she was
an advocate for many of the people they loathed.
Point is, Dolly Parton was everything that Donny and MAGA are
not. If the world had more folks like Dolly and less like Donny,
it would be a far, far better place. And Dolly, I hope you'll
forgive me for being political, but it's what I do. Rest in
power, bright angel. We will always love you.
* * * * *
Come to think of it, my brief tribute to Dolly
Parton is not entirely unrelated to the post that I had already
begun before I learned of her death. Dolly was a tireless giver,
and I am living in a place where, as it happens, I am surrounded
by tireless givers. My affluent county is often touted as one of
the most generous, giving counties in the whole Great State of
Texas and perhaps in the entire Divided States of America. It's
home to scads of nonprofits. There are tons of opportunities for
givers to give.
And give they do. They may not give on the scale that Dolly did
-- I imagine that few do or even can -- but they give a lot of
their money and in many cases their time and energy and passion
to help those less fortunate. That's a good thing.
The problem is that so many of them, whether they realize it or
not, are also takers of the worst kind. That's not good.
This matter has been on my mind for months and months,
practically ever since I landed, more or less on my feet, in this
idyllic city within a city where I now live. I can't let loose
about it in the rooms where it happens; that wouldn't be fitting
for a lady who occasionally lunches with the Ladies Who Lunch.
Put aside the longstanding and by now cliched criticism of the
glitterati at the very tip-top of the food-and-drink chain -- the
conspicuous altruists who are on the ultra-high-dollar charity
event circuit primarily for recognition, with the desire to help
others being secondary. They've been lambasted and lampooned for
many decades. I don't move in those elevated circles. But there
are plenty of Ladies Who Lunch in the middle tiers, affluent and
involved in multiple charities, and while I admire their energy
and dedication, there's this thing that's been on my mind.
I think it first hit me hard on a lovely afternoon this past
spring, when I attended a casual-dressy charity event with a dear
friend and her daughter who are not, strictly speaking, Ladies
Who Lunch (they're much more like me), but they know their way
around that crowd. For several years running they had attended
this fundraiser, held in a beautiful venue overlooking a dazzling
lake. It was my first time.
Hosted by a nonprofit community action agency that manages
several large federally and locally funded community programs,
this particular event directly benefited a much-loved program
that supports local housebound seniors. It offered shopping from a
wide range of local boutiques and vendors, as well as food and
drinks, door prizes, auctions, a fashion show, and other
activities.
And there were plenty of opportunities to give, either directly
in various ways, or by bidding on auction items or purchasing
stuff from the vendors who donated part of their proceeds to the
charity. Ticket sales alone probably generated a pretty penny as
well; they weren't Mar-a-Lago level but they weren't super cheap
either. The wine flowed freely (I stuck to tea), the
conversations were animated and cumulatively quite loud, and the
vendors' card reading devices were in constant operation.
Noise aside, it was overall an enjoyable experience, and I was on
my best behavior, trying to fit in. I remained on good behavior
even after the director of the organization was introduced and
proceeded to deliver a speech that ended up disturbing me more
than a little.
I suppose most of the other ladies had heard all of this numerous
times before, and many continued their chatter right on through
his entire presentation. I had to strain to hear the man, but I
was very interested in what he had to say and I hung on his every
word. Well, at least the words that I could hear over the nonstop
chatter.
His speech was probably much like one he'd given countless times
before. It was understated and diplomatic, but I grasped the
subtext, and it made me both sad and angry. (Later I had a brief
private conversation with him and verified that I had indeed
understood the deeper message.) At the podium he gave an
encouraging progress report, praised the generosity of the givers
in the crowd and in the greater community, and acknowledged the
hard work and commitment of his staff -- but it wasn't all
sunshine.
I could tell that he was very carefully choosing his words as he
explained that the organization was facing significant challenges
because of freezes in funding from the government, which in light
of inflation rates has the same result as a funding cut. The
message, though he didn't put it in so many words, was that the
callous slashing and burning by the present administration was
making the work of serving the least fortunate much, much harder.
He seemed to be walking a difficult tightrope, wanting to be
honest about what was happening without getting political about
it. And maybe I've just become overly emotional from an extended
period of nearly unbearable personal loss,
but as he spoke I found myself fighting tears at times. Maybe I
was projecting, but at times it looked like he was about to cry
himself.
And the ladies in the room chatted on. They did manage to applaud
at all of the appropriate times, but I think that's only because
the moderator helped keep things on track.
I thought about everything I was seeing and hearing. I looked at
the compassionate and dedicated man who'd been trying explain
what was going on, as well as his equally dedicted staffers who
were also present, and I thought about how hard these people have
to work every single day just to ensure that "the
least of these brothers and sisters of mine" have the bare essentials for survival.
And I thought about the gabbing gala goers who also clearly care
about "the least of these" -- I will give all credit
where it is due -- but who for the most part keep on supporting
the very political party, and its morally hollowed-out leader, whose policies and practices make the charities have to
work so much harder to even pretend
they can keep up with ever-increasing needs. Nonprofits are
threatened not only by funding freezes and cuts, but in many cases these days by targeted political attacks
as well. The Trump administration has
blatantly portrayed many nonprofs as an enemy to go after.
From what I have observed, many of the Ladies Who
Lunch seem either oblivious to or unfazed by the fact that this administration has worked tirelessly to rip away safety nets, destroy benefits, and deprive the most vulnerable people
of survival basics -- and, for that matter, to strip them of basic human rights.
(Actually, at this point everyone's basic human rights
are in danger from this administration, but that's a whole other
topic.)
What I so wanted to shout to the well-dressed ladies gathered in
that elegantly appointed room was:
WAKE UP, FFS.
But I didn't. And I'm sorry for
shouting it here. I should have warned you.
Here's the bottom line, whether you wish to accept it or not: If
you are still voting red, if you're still supporting Trump, if
you refuse to even consider voting for someone in
"the other party" just because you believe that they're
"the enemy" (socialist/communist/anti-Christian/Islamic
terrorist/transgender-for-everyone-ist or whatever)...then you
have very little standing to pat yourself on the back for writing
huge checks or putting in countless hours of your time every
month or devoting all of your passion and creative energies to
your favorite nonprofs.
Because every time you vote red, you are very likely voting to
put your favorite charities in the red. You are hurting
the very people whom you committed to help.
* * * * *
Earlier this month my dear friend
and I attended another less fancy luncheon event, hosted by the
same agency and benefiting the same organization. The director
was there again with his staff, and once again he spoke about the
progress made and the ongoing needs. Once again it was clear that
he was carefully minding his words. And once again there was
applause at all the right times.
It was actually a happy occasion because it was a thank you lunch
for organizations and individuals who had helped the agency
towards its fundraising goals. There was good news to report
about the fundraising, and the service club to which my friend
and I belong was recognized for the club's contributions to the
cause. As well, one of our club's founding members, a woman of
whom I've grown very fond, was specially recognized for her many
years of above-and-beyond service.
But still, there was that underpinning of frustration because the
agency and the organizations it helps are being strangled by this
administration. In more ways than one, that was the elephant in
the room.
I had another private talk with the director afterward. We talked
about the frustrations, about how increasingly difficult it is to
feed hungry kids and seniors, what with various programs being
shrunk or eliminated altogether, supposedly because they're
unaffordable.
I expressed that I especially felt bad about cuts in school lunch
programs. "Let them eat the Ten Commandments!" I said,
a reference to the inane reality that even though automatic free lunches for hungry kids are
kaput in a major public school district in Houston -- part of what has become a pattern in Texas to starve kids -- our GOP-dominated state legislature managed to push through a requirement for every public schoolroom in the state
to display the Ten Commandments.
The director nodded and smiled wryly. He said he and his family
are religious and are churchgoers, but he believes religious
trappings belong in the churches and in private homes, not in
public schools. He also wondered why our government could afford
to build bombs at a billion dollars a pop, when the price of just
one single bomb could feed so many hungry people. He didn't have
anything against defense spending, he said, but surely some of
that money could go towards helping people.
I said to him, "You do the work of angels." That's
actually the same thing I had said that very morning to the
compassionate vet who had helped me send my sweet old dog Roxanne over
the Rainbow Bridge. This is not something that I ordinarily say
to people, even people who I think do good work. But it's true of
my vet, and it is certainly true of this man who was standing
before me, looking a little sad and weary (or maybe I was
projecting again?), but was not willing to give up.
* * * * *
About a week and a half later, my
friend and I were at the monthly meeting of our service club, and
the floor was open to discussion about the coming year's speaker
lineup. Every month we have a speaker from a local nonprofit, and
at the end of the presentation the club presents that speaker
with a check for the nonprof. Some people were complaining, and
seemed quite vehement about the matter, because the tentative
2027 lineup included not one but two organizations that
benefit... gasp... animals.
These women noted that they like animals as well as the next
person, but shouldn't limited funds and energy be directed
towards people's needs first?
Several women echoed the complaint. A couple of women spoke up
about the vital role pets play in emotional support, particularly
among seniors (or others) who live alone and may have experienced
devastating losses that the presence of a pet can ease. But for
the most part the sentiment seemed to be, "Take care of
human needs first!"
I can actually see both sides, though I lean a bit towards the
pro-animal side, because my non-human companions are my children.
They have sometimes helped keep life from becoming unbearable
since my husband Ron died. The discussion could have become
pretty heated, but the club president and a couple of the board
members cooled it down by agreeing that the program committee
would re-convene to discuss revising the lineup, based on input
from members.
Here's the kicker. The calm "middle ground" perspective
seemingly agreed upon by most of the membership, and later echoed
at a private lunch by the planning committee, was that yes,
animals are vitally important in many people's lives, but
hard times are getting harder, and human needs are more urgent
now than ever. There's more homelessness, more poverty, more
food insecurity, and just more of less, everywhere you
turn.
I can get behind that sentiment. It is absolutely true.
But here are the words I dare not say when I am in any of the
rooms where these matters are actively being discussed:
You can discard the animal charities and only embrace the most
worthy human ones. Fine. You can embrace these worthiest of causes
passionately, giving your time and treasure and heart and soul to
elevate them. Good for you. But if you continue to vote red, if
you continue to wear, either metaphorically or literally, that
red cap showing your support of a man and a regime for whom
cruelty is the only point besides enriching the oligarchs, then
you, Ladies Who Lunch, are helping to unravel, thread by thread,
the lovely tapestry of all of your good works.
And so in light of all of the above... I'd like to propose a
toast.
The Ladies
Voters Who Lunch *
Here's to the ladies who lunch —
Everybody gives
Donating to causes
What a caring bunch
Where the goodness lives.
Off to the drive,
Signing a check for
Food bank supplies.
Glad they’re alive,
And yet they're all on a
GOP high.
And most of them still vote for Trump.
Pass me that cup.
And here's to the gals at the ball —
Clad in silk and lace
Praising the nonprofit
Saving one and all
In their giving place.
Clapping their hands,
For the director’s
Tragic report.
Then they demand
Border interceptors,
Safety net short.
Aren't we the most caring domain?
Pour the champagne.
And here's to the girls who play cards —
Deeply filled with grace
Mourning the unfortunates
In the outer wards
Of this wealthy space.
Planning a gala,
Saving a clinic,
Wiping a tear.
Then voting MAGA,
Blind as a cynic,
Year after year.
"The cruelty's just a feature, my dear!"
Another beer.
And here's to the ones who just drift —
Warm and full of pride
Bragging that our county is
The ultimate gift
On the red-state side.
Minding their words,
The charity leaders
Dare not offend.
Feeding the birds,
While the bottom feeders
Meet a harsh end.
Another reason to just stay blind...
I'm losing my mind.
A collective of saints who endorse the squeeze,
Who pray for the poor while they chop down the trees,
Who cut off the safety nets at the knees!
Everybody rise!
Rise!
Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise!
Rise!
Here's to the ladies who lunch!
Give them a hand!
The most caring county in all the land!
And they'll vote red again...
And again...
And again...
And again...
And again!
I'll drink to that!
Tip your red hat
Let’s toast to the ladies...
Who lunch!
I'll drink to that, with the nonalcoholic
libation of my choice.
And then I will raise my glass again for Dolly. The world without
her seems a little dimmer, a little grimmer. Kind of like, you
know, a
hard candy Christmas.
* Full disclosure: I directed my AI buddy (Google's Gemini, free version) to write this parody of Stephen Sondheim's famous song from the Broadway musical Company, "The Ladies Who Lunch." Here is a link to the original lyrics. And here's a link to a live performance on Sondheim's 80th birthday. This is the first time I have ever used "Google's janky six-fingered plagiarism robot" (as my favorite potty-mouthed pundit, Jeff Tiedrich, calls it) -- or any AI tool for that matter -- to write a song parody. It's not something I would normally do and I do not intend to make a habit of it. If I do I will tell you. In any case, I was in a rush today, preoccupied with other projects. So thank you, janky robot.
