Elvis Presley had a gentle, almost playful way of expressing affection, and in 1966, that tenderness took the form of horses. Wanting to give something meaningful to the women he cared about, Elvis decided they should ride together, share quiet mornings and open land far from the noise of fame. For Priscilla, he chose a sleek black Quarter Horse named Domino. For Sandy Kawelo, he selected a soft cream-colored horse called Sheba. It was his way of creating moments, not gifts meant to impress, but experiences meant to be shared.
There was another reason behind the gesture. Years earlier, Elvis had been shaken by an accident during a film when a horse bolted with him still on its back. Since then, riding had lingered in his mind as something unfinished. By bringing horses into his life again, he was gently coaxing himself back into the saddle. He imagined riding alongside them, rediscovering a sense of calm and confidence that fame rarely allowed him.
Elvis knew very little about buying horses, and he didn’t pretend otherwise. Instead, he leaned on friendship. He brought along Jerry Schilling, trusting him to help guide the search. The process was filled with laughter, trial and error, and a sense of childlike excitement. They walked barns, asked questions, and joked their way through the experience until the right horses finally appeared, each one seeming to find its person naturally.
Priscilla took to riding with ease. She moved with quiet grace, sometimes riding bareback, completely at home atop Domino. Watching her, Elvis felt a mix of admiration and peace. Yet it was during these visits that another presence caught his attention. A palomino Quarter Horse stood apart, golden in the light, calm and strong. Elvis felt the connection instantly. Without hesitation, he bought the horse and named him Rising Sun.
That bond grew quickly and deeply. Elvis treated Rising Sun with exceptional care, visiting often and making sure he was well tended. He even named the barn House of the Rising Sun, a quiet tribute to the horse that had helped him reclaim something lost. Rising Sun became his favorite, not because of beauty alone, but because the horse represented trust, healing, and companionship. In that shared stillness between man and animal, Elvis found a rare peace that stayed with him long after the ride ended.

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Dolly Parton turned a simple handmade coat into one of the most powerful songs of her life because to her, it was never really about the fabric. “Coat of Many Colors” sprang directly from Dolly’s growing-up years in East Tennessee. Her mother, Avie Lee, pieced the jacket together by sewing colorful rags the family already owned. Cash was mighty tight, so there was no running down to the store for brand-new clothes. Instead, Avie Lee took what was on hand and stitched together something warm for her little girl to wear. While the needle flew, she shared the Bible story of Joseph and his coat of many colors, turning an ordinary piece of clothing into something special in Dolly’s eyes. Proudly wearing that coat to school, Dolly felt rich, but the other kids saw it differently. They laughed at the patches and teased her for having so little. Years down the road, Dolly penned those childhood memories into “Coat of Many Colors.” Released in 1971, the tune became a shining example of why her songwriting touched so many souls. She never tried to hide hard times or dress up her youth to look prettier than it was. She simply laid the sting of teasing side-by-side with the deep love that stitched the coat together, letting that honest truth speak for itself. The song eventually grew far beyond that original vinyl record. Its spirit inspired the 2015 television movie Dolly Parton’s Coat of Many Colors, followed by Christmas of Many Colors: Circle of Love the very next year. Those films opened a window into Dolly’s mountain home, introducing folks to the hardworking parents and siblings who shaped her long before the bright lights found her. By then, Dolly had worn glittering stage gowns worth more than her family could ever have dreamed. Yet the garment folks remember best remains that humble little coat stitched by a mother’s loving hands when buying something new simply wasn’t in the cards. That is why the memory stayed alive. The scraps faded away, but the lesson underneath never did.