Chasing Legacy | ONC2023

Chapter 1: Freedom

DEACON

Whether I turn out to be the hero of my own life or my own story is yet to be determined. A little while ago, I was summoned by the man I consider my hero. Living under his roof you'd assume it's my father, it couldn't be further from the truth. I met Trace Ellis five years ago by chance while I was couchsurfing at some friendly people's addresses. Long live the Internet.

This fleeting way of living grew old quickly. However, it strengthened my will to find my own two feet and some stability if it wasn't too much to wish for. And so, I started to ask my hosts for odd jobs. It was nothing like the life I left behind in Lexington, but I was proud to do the honest work. It honed my work ethic and handyman skills. One day, those landed me on the doorstep of the most distinguished house or better yet, compound I've ever seen.

At twenty-five, I was able to throw off the strict yoke my father held me under. Being his only surviving offspring, his hopes and dreams were unmercifully projected onto me. My personal aspirations constantly fell on deaf ears with him. My mom's hearing didn't fare any better. Keeping up appearances like she expected, practically from birth on, was shallow and tiring. Done with that suffocating straightjacket, I fled our house and Kentucky in the dead of night. Eventually ending up at said property in Nashville. Its owners, Trace and his wife, Maurin. 

They wanted a remodel of some of their rooms and guest house. Right then, their names didn't immediately ring any bells. I was just grateful their contractor, Rusty, still hired manpower.

Somewhere in between all the slab-on grade foundations, window sills and fine carpentry, the crew discovered I had a growing passion for music. And, that I dabbled in playing and singing. You see, the only things I took with me that fateful night in Lexington; the clothes on my back, my personal documents and my trusty guitar. I admit, without any shame, that there were many times that busking got me the food and clothing I needed to get by.

Sitting around a campfire near the construction site to celebrate the Fourth of July, the men and few women that couldn't or wouldn't return home, hounded me for a song. After enough beers and internal pep talks, I committed myself to a true classic, Fishin' in the Dark by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Before I knew it, people came from far and wide to join in. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that some of them were filming my humble attempt. When I finished I got applauded and patted on the back. It seemed I read the room. It made me feel good that I could enhance the atmosphere of this holiday get-together.

Our contractor must've decided to come by for a celebratory drink. Because after some of the excitement died down, he showed up next to me with his daughter. Clapping me on the shoulder with one of his calloused hands. "Hey man, my wife will be miffed with us when Alyse and I tell her that we've slipped out of the house to see the makings of a star..."

"That's too much honor, Rusty. Thanks though, I'm so new at this. It feels a bit uncomfortable to receive any praise." Not knowing where to look next, I chose the toes of my boots.

"Dad is right, you know?" The teenager added. "You can become a star if that's something you want to aim for, I'd buy your music..." She encouraged me with a reddish hue on her cheeks. It was emphasized by the ongoing fire.

My mother didn't raise a liar so I can honestly say that I've fantasized about having a music career. "And how would I do that, Alyse? What you see is what you get..." Realizing I might have taken it a step too far with her already, I apologize to my boss. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be crass."

"Deacon Jude, you do know that besides working for me, we work for Trace Ellis? I could show him the video I just shot..."

"Yeah?" I drawl sheepishly.