Bluegrass boy and the jazz man

In elementary he was cool. His bluegrass type of personality made him one of the popular. His flannel shirt and his crotch tight blue jeans. He walked like he was always wearing a banjo on his back. His talk had the drawl of the south. He always chewed long grass. His boots were the snake skin boots you buy in cowboy stores. He wore a straw hat that was beat up like a rodeo clown.

His friends got older and they started listening to rap. They too, once looked like him. It was junior high and he was still popular but not as popular as he was before. He listened to his bluegrass and plucked away at his guitar. To him life was good and full of promise. Like the tunes his favorite bluegrass artist played.

He grew older and moved up in life. High school was the step that hurt him most. His friends turned to the gangsters and the wannabes. They turned to artists who had it rough, when they on the other did not. He became the outcast. More unpopular then the geeks or the mentally challenged. He hoped college would be better.

He went to some fancy school down south where country music was thick in the blood of the students and the drawl was as thick as playdoh. No one there liked bluegrass, they were into the ghetto cowboy style of music. They too were wannabes and "down with it" kids. He graduated with his fancy music degree.

He moved to New Orleans with his guitar on his back and his bluegrass style. He brought nothing else, just what was on his back. He found a run down place under an old music store. To make ends meet he worked at the store above him and played on the corner. Everyday and every night he worked on his bluegrass music. He was writing one song, one song that meant so much to him. While he was working the store he had meet a jazz artist who lived the same way as he except in the jazz style of way. Everynight the played together at different corners to spread their beautiful music.

The jazz artist, was a African American with a jolly laugh that filled a room. He had a heart that was pure of jazz and smooth like a soft babies bottom. He would put his soul in every part of his music and the people would know. He always had his trumpet that looked full of character.

They would play till the night would become day. The few that came to listen would never want to leave. The artists decided they would combine the masterpieces of the works they had worked on by themselves. They went to the baren coastline after the whole city was evacuated before the storm. They set up towards the waves of the ocean and there they played. A few people who stayed back came out to listen. The music stole their souls and calmy put them in the mood. It didnt matter what would happen, they were ready to die after hearing the song go. Each part of the song related to everyone there. The sorows of life, the joys and everything in between. Their music brought tears of pain, sorrow, happiness, love and everything you can imagine. While it may have seemed awkward, there was a slight opening in the clouds bringing in a bright beam of light that shined on the musicians. The storm worsened and the people listening ran to there homes and watched and listened to the artists. Their music made them smile. You could see their souls pour out of every notes and breathe they made. Then the wave came, and the music stopped. People who survived the hurricane that hit the coastline there, went to search for these great musicians that brought them hope and life beyond what they thought. They claim to this day that music never stopped. There was no remains of them. The store owner had no name of the two. He just payed them for their great work. The store honored them by placing a banjo and a trumpet as its logo.

The people who saw them last and lived to tell about it, now wear crosses of a trumpet going horizontal over a vertical banjo. They came after the storm and prayed where the atrists had played. They all believed that they were people sent by God to send a message of hope and all that is good after death by what came out from their music.

The bluegrass boy lived as bluegrass music had lived. The music once was popular then it slowly died out. You may catch it here and there but its only because of a small group of people who remember the music. Just like the bluegrass boy, the jazz man lived like his music too. Jazz once being popular slowly died, only to become what people "remember".