Dolly should come down and have fun

She rests in a gold and black frame on the kitchen counter, waiting for me to decide where to hang her. That enigmatic smile is on her lovely face, dark eyes follow me about the room, and she's showing more cleavage than the Paris version.
I bought the "Dolly Lisa," a John McKellar painting that puts Dolly Parton in the Mona Lisa pose, at a Bay St. Louis gallery. I couldn't help myself.
The beautiful little Mississippi melon-colored town has more festivals than South Georgia has gnats. A recent one was called "Dolly Should," a play on "Dollywood" and an open invitation for the country singing star to visit.
Dozens of townspeople-men, women and children-dressed up like Dolly, or an exaggerated version of Dolly, which is a hard thing to exaggerate, and local businesses went with the theme. It was the Second Annual Dolly Should, and I imagine not the last.
The town also has a Frida Kahlo celebration, another figure easy to spoof. Eyebrows are the emphasis.
I walked along the sidewalks just after dark, admiring the store windows and listening to "Jolene" blaring from a speaker somewhere. A Dolly on a lighted bicycle wheeled by. Another spilling out of her red sequins bumped into me and never felt it.
The official competition was on the front porch of a local watering hole, and one by one the Dollys said hello and strutted their stuff against the loud cheers of an admiring crowd. Maybe the president has brought back big hair, but Dolly wore it first. And best.
I didn't stay to see which Dolly won, but I hope the winner could sing and write. Dolly Parton's true talent often is lost in the shadow of her curls and cup size.
I'm paraphrasing here, but someone once asked Dolly how she felt when she first arrived in Nashville and everyone thought of her as a dumb blonde. "I knew I wasn't dumb," she said. "And I damn sure knew I wasn't blonde."
I kept looking for a contestant to wear a coat of many colors, but I didn't see one. If you can listen to Dolly's "Coat of Many Colors" song and not cry, I don't want to hang out with you.
Her "Hard Candy Christmas" is another 3 minutes and 48 seconds that will break your heart. The only other holiday song that comes close is John Denver singing "Please, Daddy, Don't Get Drunk This Christmas."
The gallery where I found McKellar's painting is in a small, unpainted house with imagination as chinks to fill the cracks. Coats of many colors were on the wall, plus many artist interpretations of the iconic Dolly. I had not intended to buy another painting, but "Dolly Lisa" was too big a temptation to resist. It was a little like hearing the Cajun French interpretations of Hank's songs and other standards. For this Francophile, traditional country with a French spin is catnip.
I guess the Bay's proximity to New Orleans helps explain the uninhibited and artistic spirit that rules. It's hard not to be envious-of talent, organized fun and unquenchable creativity. Other small towns could do worse than imitate Bay St. Louis.
My "Dolly Lisa" looks like she knows the secret to such civic frivolity, but, then, she's not talking.