08/25/2026
I've made my home among these mountains for about ten years now, and today feels like a loss shared by anyone who's ever loved this stretch of Appalachia, the Blue Ridge, the Alleghenies, all the way down to the Smokies Dolly called her own.
Her father never learned to read or write. Rather than let that stay a private ache, she turned it into a promise: a free book, mailed to a child, every month, from birth until they turn five. What began in one Tennessee county has grown into more than 200 million books sent to kids across the U.S., the UK, Ireland, Canada, and Australia, each one a small vote of confidence in a child she'd likely never meet.
And then there's what she did for the arts here: the whole idea that mountain people could be makers and storytellers and musicians on the biggest stages in the world without ever softening the parts of themselves that came from these hills. That's the piece I've felt most, living where I do. She made it easier to believe that where you're from is something to build from, not something to leave behind.
It's part of why I have so much respect for anyone who writes, or who spends their time and resources making sure books and reading reach more people. Whether that's an author working on their next manuscript or someone quietly keeping a literacy program running, that work matters to me, and Dolly spent a lifetime showing just how far it can reach.
Thank you, Dolly, for the books, for the music, and for showing this whole chain of mountains what it looks like to stay so completely, unapologetically yourself.
