Two Lights That Framed a Decade

I only ever wanted to do three things with my life, and every one of them started with a kid staring at a screen. Growing up in a small town, 30 miles from anywhere with anything, the movies were how I saw past the edge of home. And two people showed up in that glow again and again: Dolly Parton and Tim Curry.

Losing them both hits harder than I expected. These were not just performers or personalities. They meant something more than that to a kid whose entire teenage years were framed by the 80s. That whole decade felt punctuated by movie releases, and Dolly and Tim always seemed to have something just behind them, something else releasing, something more brewing in the near distance. They were never done. They were never still.

What Dolly Taught Me

Movies were only one part of Dolly. Alongside them, she kept releasing music, running charitable events, and building business ventures. And here is the thing that stuck with me: none of that came in place of anything else. It was all fully in addition to. She just kept adding.

She taught me that you can have everything you want if you are sincere and willing to put in the effort and the time. No shortcuts. No pretending. Just the work.

But it was more than her drive. She never forgot where she came from, and she was never ashamed to talk about it. Real pride in who you are is a commendable trait. To pair that pride with genuine humility reminds us that everything in our lives, the good and the bad, is a gift. Dolly Parton was a gift.

What Tim Gave Us

I didn’t forget Tim Curry.

What he gave us was himself. Not just what he was, but everything he could imagine being, delivered in a way that was both believable and supremely memorable. The parts he played did not make him famous. The way he played them made them famous.

I never saw a movie where Tim Curry did not own the stage, even when he was in a supporting role. He never tried to upstage the other actors. He didn’t have to. It was simply impossible to share space with him and not somehow fall into the shadow of his talent. That kind of gravity can’t be faked.

Midnight, and the Man Who Was Always There

Here is a memory I hold close.

I have been to a lot of sci-fi, fantasy, and gaming conventions, and let me tell you, they are exhausting. Most events I went to had a midnight viewing of Rocky Horror. Yeah, I was there. The brutal schedule was finally behind me, and it was almost time to pack up and get out.

But that little midnight moment, that liminal alley between still being part of it and being done until the next time, that is where I found The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Tim Curry waiting for me. Every single time. I looked forward to that more than you know.

What They Really Left Behind

I didn’t know these two any more than most other people did. But it was never about knowing them.

It was through the simple act of exposure. Exposure to their drive and their abilities. Their humility and their gravitas. Even now, that exposure keeps teaching me things. It reminds me to appreciate the journey more than the destination, the adventure more than the award, and it stands as an ardent reminder that life is precious.

So this one is for Dolly and for Tim. Two lights that framed a decade, and a kid who is still learning from both.

Thank you. Truly.