Curtis Kimberlin started Tuesday morning as usual, at work as an academic adviser at the University of Illinois Chicago. By midafternoon, the 31-year-old stood on the city’s North Side staring at Dolly Parton’s smile, wondering how he’d go back to his 9-to-5.
As the news of Parton’s death on Tuesday spread, tributes for the beloved country music singer poured in from every corner, and Chicago was no exception. In the hours after Parton’s family announced she had died of cancer and President Donald Trump ordered flags to be lowered to half staff for the next week, Chicagoans flocked to Edgewater’s Lytle House, where a mural of Parton faces the street. The portrait stretches from floor to ceiling, Parton’s big blonde hair — rightfully — crowding much of the wall.
One after another, a steady stream of fans stopped by the mural. As afternoon turned to evening, a small pile of flowers grew at the painting’s edge. Over the sound of traffic, Parton’s discography played on a loop, the songs spilling out onto the street from inside Lytle House.
Kimberlin had only a short window to visit Parton. He brought a bouquet with him. “How do we go back to normal?” Kimberlin asked Tuesday afternoon, eyes cast towards the mural.
Kimberlin was raised on Parton. His mom made sure that country music, Dolly especially, was a hallmark of his Texas upbringing. He evoked a memory of being college student driving out to Oklahoma with his mom to see Parton in concert.
He’s never known a day without the icon. He can’t quite wrap his head around knowing he, and the world, wouldn’t have another.
Parton died peacefully Tuesday in Nashville, Tennessee after a brief battle with cancer, according to a statement from her publicist, as reported by The Associated Press. She was 80.
Parton was among the most beloved personalities in music and beyond — the rare celebrity whose appeal transcended generations, geography and politics. Her poignant songwriting and sparkling costumes defined her rise from a log cabin in the Tennessee mountains to the queen of country music. Her career comprised hundreds of songs, but so did Parton’s generous philanthropy and success as a businesswoman.
For Kimberlin, it’s who Parton was — and stood for — that resonated with him most. Though strict in not voicing her own political beliefs, Parton spoke through the causes she believed in, through the organizations and activism she’d frequently support. Parton started an education nonprofit to distribute books to children, donated to help fund the COVID-19 vaccine in 2020 and used her platform to champion LGBTQ+ rights.
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“I was just telling my boyfriend,” Kimberlin told the Tribune, “now we have to live our lives like Dolly would.”
In a statement Tuesday, Gov. JB Pritzker spoke to Parton’s work beyond her career as a entertainer, especially her education nonprofit. In Illinois alone, Pritzker said, 100,000 kids get free books through the program.
“Dolly Parton was an inspiration to so many Americans as a singer and actress — but especially by sparking a love of reading,” Pritzker stated. “We’ll remember Dolly as a trailblazer who cared for all, especially our children. May her memory be a blessing.”
Lucy McNichols and Miles Brandenstein stood outside Lytle House just holding each other. Celebrity deaths don’t usually affect them so much, they both said, but Parton’s death is something different. Something bigger.
“I feel like when people do so much for the collective, thanking them and showing that appreciation is really, really important,” McNichols said. “I just kind of wanted to share that with others.”
As they spoke, McNichols wiped away a few tears. Behind them, people continued to drop off flowers.
“She’s just been such a force of good in the world,” McNichols said. “She’s always been someone who’s really walked the walk, among so many celebrities (who just) talked the (talk).”
“They just don’t make them like that anymore,” Brandenstein added. “Like her.”
To Anna Chapman, Parton was “woman personified,” the Andersonville resident said on her pilgrimage to Lytle House mural.
Growing up in Lakeview, Chapman and her family loved old country — Willie Nelson, Loretta Lynn and yes, Parton. Though Chapman’s heritage was Latin music, coming from a Mexican and Cuban background, Parton also was fundamental.
“We loved this music,” Chapman said. “We loved her.”
As Chapman lingered by the mural, a car drove by on Broadway with the windows down. “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene,” Parton’s voice blared from inside.
Chapman said she planned on listening to Parton when she got home. She also planned to just think about her, she said.
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“The more people that think about her today,” Chapman said, “she’s gonna feel that.”
Back at Lytle House, the music would continue, Michelle Lytle, who co-owns the venue with her wife, promised. When she heard of Parton’s death, she knew people would be stopping by their Parton mural, which has adorned their event space for the past nine years. While fans stopped by to see Parton, Lytle wanted them to hear her, too.
“Dolly,” Lytle said, “she’s just someone you feel like would never die.”
Over the speakers, Parton’s voice continued to sound. “Oh, bless her, Lord,” she sang. “She’s an eagle when she flies.”
baiduhai’s Jeremy Gorner and the Associated Press contributed to this report.