by Melanie Hemry
His Father’s Business
Six-year-old Jesse Duplantis had business on his mind the day his daddy taught him to strum three chords on an old guitar. He bit his lip in concentration as he struggled to stretch his fingers across the strings. His parents, Paul and Velma, thought the guitar was just a childish diversion for the boy. Jesse knew better. That guitar was his salvation. He knew it as surely as he knew his name was Jesse Duplantis. He knew it as well as he knew every rattletrap house his family had rented in the past six years of his life. He knew it as surely as he knew that chasing work from oil field to oil field around Louisiana wasn’t the life for him. He wasn’t ashamed of that kind of work, or poverty. He just wanted a way out. His daddy handed it to him in the form of a guitar. Most 6-year-olds don’t have a personal
philosophy about being responsible for their own success. But then, Jesse Duplantis wasn’t like most 6-year-olds. He practiced the guitar until his fingers were raw and his arms quivered. While the other children played, Jesse practiced. He practiced in the house until the noise from his guitar and his brother’s trumpet compelled Velma to drive them both outdoors. He practiced on the porch. And when the other kids played in the nearby fields, Jesse played guitar. Jesse started from three basic chords, and before long he was making music. Music Was Business He’d always expected to succeed, but Jesse was stunned when people walking by began throwing quarters to him. In a city famous for street
B VOV :
13
