I flapped open the lid of my cardboard guitar case and whipped out my old Martin. Mr. Killen seemed a little taken aback. I think he wasn’t sure whether I was going to play the guitar or brain him with it. He breathed a sigh of relief when I went into a song. Bill hustled his guitar out as fast as he could and joined in. I sang loud and strong with the security that comes with knowing that one way or another, it’ll be over soon.

It's easy to get lost.. But you can't do that, you've got to focus on who you are, what you want, and what your talents are. You've got to be smart enough to know- is it good enough? Is this a dream that I can accomplish? Am I good enough at this? Am I good enough to even have enough personality to go ahead, if my personality is stronger or greater than my talent, how can I combine the two? But you've got to come to terms with yourself early on. Be true to you, to know what you can do, and if it's worth it, to get out there and go for it, and then that's what you need to do. And don't let nobody else tell you that you're wrong. If you believe what you believe about yourself to be true, that's all you really have to know to be and anchored, decent human being.

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Carl finally came home and would come to see me almost every night, usually staying to the wee hours. He was working with his father in his asphalt-paving business in South Nashville and I was living in Madison, Tennessee. Between that and the time he spent with me, he wasn’t getting any sleep at all. Finally, one day he said, quite matter-of-factly, “You’re either gonna have to move to the other side of town or we’re gonna have to get married.” That, to Carl, was a proposal. People always want to know how he asked me to marry him, and I always have to say, “He didn’t exactly ask.” Part of me was thrilled that he wanted to marry me, but another part was a little taken aback. That must have been the strongest part because that was the one that answered.
“You never have even said you loved me.”
“Hell, you know I love you,” was Carl’s answer.
I attribute this to that same kind of unspoken communication that I explained when describing life with my daddy. It is one of the Parton/Dean rules of conduct I have become a one-woman committee to abolish. Always at holidays or other family gatherings, people would hug and say good-bye, but they would never say “I love you.” Sure, I know that the love is there, but dammit, I want to hear it! I was the first one in my family, that I know of, to ever tell other family members that I loved them.
One day, after I had been living away from home for many years, I was saying good-bye to Daddy when I told him, “I love you.” He responded in the usual nonverbal, look-at-the-ground Parton way, and I just couldn’t stand it anymore.
I took his head between my hands and made him look me right in the eye. “You tell me you love me,” I demanded.
With no small amount of embarrassment he said, “Aww, you know I love you’uns” (a mountain word meaning more than one).
“Not you’uns!” I kept on. “This has got nothing to do with Cassie or Bobby or anybody else. I want to know if you” — I emphasized the word by poking my finger into his chest — “love me,”

I was born with a happy heart. I've always tried to let that shine even during my dark times. I'm one of those people who, even if things are not right, goes about trying to make it as right as I can rather than just lying around on my ass and wallowing in it all day.

I know what I can do and what i want to do, but I try to be smart about the things I choose to do. I also surround myself with really good people. I ask God every day to bring all the right things and all the right folks into my life and help me recognize them when they show up.