An appreciation for Dolly: ‘We had no money, but we were as rich as we could be’

Ken Vance reflects on Dolly Parton's "Coat of Many Colors" and his mother's quiet sacrifices raising four sons on very little. — Ken Vance reflects on Dolly Parton’s “Coat of Many Colors” and his mother’s quiet sacrifices raising four sons on very little. Photo courtesy By John Mathew Smith & www.celebrity-photos.com from Laurel Maryland, USA – Dolly Parton 2, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=84389326

Clark County Today Editor Ken Vance honors Dolly Parton with his story of how the legendary entertainer made him feel at peace with his humble childhood

Ken Vance, editor
Clark County Today

America lost an icon Tuesday. Legendary singer/songwriter/actress/philanthropist Dolly Parton died at the age of 80, reportedly after secretly battling cancer for an undetermined time.

Ken Vance

One of the ways that some celebrities bless us is they have a remarkable way of relating to us on a personal level. They take us back to a time or place that resonates with us. I grew up loving country music. My mom and dad did, too.

I can’t say that Dolly was my favorite performer, but I certainly liked much of her music and enjoyed many of her movies.

One song of hers, though, brings me back to my childhood. “Coat of Many Colors” still moves me to this day.

Coat of Many Colors

“Back through the years

I go wonderin’ once again

Back to the seasons of my youth

I recall a box of rags that someone gave us

And how my mama put the rags to use

There were rags of many colors

Every piece was small

And I didn’t have a coat

And it was way down in the fall

Mama sewed the rags together

Sewin’ every piece with love

She made my coat of many colors

That I was so proud of”

I had a wonderful, but modest childhood. I was one of four sons of Roy and Donna Vance. We always had a roof over our head, wood heat to keep us warm, food in our bellies, and clothes on our backs. But, it was modest enough that I always related to Dolly’s lyrics on a very personal level.

My mom never made me a coat of many colors. But I can’t tell you how many hours I watched her sitting at that corner desk where her old, often-failing Singer sewing machine rested. I remember she had to pound on the wheel sometimes to make it turn, and sometimes the foot pedal wouldn’t work. Sometimes she would pause and put her hand to her forehead in frustration. I can’t believe the amazing resilience and perseverance that wonderful woman possessed.

Donna Vance may have never made me a coat of many colors but she made many a garment in her lifetime. It turned out, she made more clothes for herself than for the rest of us. What money was available for clothing was spent on us boys. It was never spent on her. She made her own clothes, modest polyester pants and pullover tops.

“As she sewed, she told a story

From the Bible, she had read

About a coat of many colors

Joseph wore and then she said

Perhaps this coat will bring you

Good luck and happiness

And I just couldn’t wait to wear it

And mama blessed it with a kiss

My coat of many colors

That my mama made for me

Made only from rags

But I wore it so proudly

Although we had no money

Well, I was rich as I could be

In my coat of many colors

My mama made for me”

We had a glorious family Bible that was always present in our home. We were inconsistent in our attendance at church. Mom and dad (mostly mom) would lay down the law and try to get us restarted but whatever momentum she would gain in our attendance would soon wane and she would get worn down by our resistance.

But, make no mistake about it, my mom was a believer in our Lord. After battling her believing, but reluctant husband of 47 years and four willful boys, the last many years of her life were spent devoted to the small Shepherd of the Hills Lutheran Church in Stevenson, Washington. She was one of a two-person social club committee with her dear friend Gaynelle Stump, and she was a key member of the church’s quilting group that made a number of quilts each year that were sent to impoverished people around the world. Closer to home, no high school graduate in the church ever went out into the adult world without receiving a handmade quilt from that group of women.

This quilt was made by CCT Editor Ken Vance’s mother Donna Vance and still adorns the bed in a guest room in his home. Photo courtesy Ken Vance

I am proud to say I still sleep underneath one of my mom’s quilts each and every night, and the guest room in my home has a bed adorned by one of my mom’s favorite quilts. I have other quilts that she made, but it breaks my heart that one of my favorite quilts that she made for me was so used it got worn out. She made me a beautiful quilt with a light blue color scheme many years ago. Me being the unappreciative knuckleheaded son, I said to her “but mom, my favorite color is green.’’ So, she quietly made me a wonderful quilt with a green theme.

I’m obviously not the only one in my family who is still blessed with at least one of mom’s handmade quilts. It was her legacy that everyone in our family, and many beyond our family, had one of her quilts. I know it brought her peace and joy to know that long after she would make that trip to paradise her quilts would still be in our homes.

“So with patches on my britches

And holes in both my shoes

In my coat of many colors

I hurried off to school

Just to find the others laughing

And are making fun of me

In my coat of many colors

My mama made for me

And oh, I couldn’t understand it

For I felt I was rich

And I told ’em of the love

My mama sewed in every stitch

And I told ’em all the story

Mama told me while she sewed

And how my coat of many colors

Was worth more than all their clothes

But they didn’t understand it

And I tried to make them see

That one is only poor

Only if they choose to be”

Those words from Dolly really resonate with me. That was us, mostly because of my mom’s Super Human work-around-the-clock efforts. One year, when I was heading into middle school my mom could only afford to buy me one pair of jeans, nothing else. She said she would wash them every night if she had to. I reassured her that it wasn’t necessary, that I had plenty of clothes.

However, she knew how children behaved. After all, many children head into the first day of school with a closet full of new clothes, a new backpack, and all the trimmings. Not us.

As far as other kids laughing at me, I don’t recall any of that. I grew up in a great little town (Carson, WA). There were many children just like me. I don’t remember us being mean to each other. Maybe I have selective memory.

I do remember one incident when I was in the fourth grade. My brother Tom was in the sixth grade. He had a wonderful teacher, Mr. Trent, who arranged a class trip to a Portland Trail Blazers game at Memorial Coliseum. Amazing now to me, the Blazers were playing the Los Angeles Lakers with Wilt Chamberlain, Jerry West, and many other stars. Obviously, my mom made sure I got to come along on the trip.

We were, of course, sitting atop the arena in the cheap seats. It was a big deal to me, so I wore my very best shirt. It was a button-up shirt with a collar with black and white checks on it. It was a hand-me-down, likely many times over, but I considered it my best dress shirt. I will never forget there was a girl about my age sitting directly in front of me. Unprovoked, at one point she turned around and made fun of my shirt. I don’t remember her exact comment, but she compared my shirt to a checkerboard.

Thankfully, I am proud to say that like Dolly, I chose not to be insulted. I would have been poor only had I chosen to be.

“Now I know we had no money

But I was rich as I could be

In my coat of many colors

My mama made for me

Made just for me’’

I was not only blessed with great parents and brothers, but both of my parents’ families were amazing as well. In fact, I am looking forward to a cousins’ reunion coming up next month.

In anticipation, I am recalling the number of reunions our families had through the years. One gathering still stands out in my memory. A number of us were sitting in the backyard of our home. At one point, my mom’s eldest brother (Harlan) got a moment alone with me and my brothers. He told us how happy he was for us. He said that for years he was worried about us boys because our family always struggled to pay the rent etc. But, he told us, essentially what Dolly sings about in her song “Coat of Many Colors.’’

We had no money, but we were as rich as we could be. My uncle told us he didn’t have to worry about us anymore.

Thank you Dolly for making me feel it was OK to grow up in a modest and humble family and that “one is only poor only if they choose to be.”