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Monday under the Maple
0August 21, 2019 by admin
A young guitarist with a man-bun was playing, without amplification, where Colin usually sets up. Given how hot it was, I was not unhappy to be forced into the shade of the Norway Maple.
“Have you got time for a hula today.”
“Sure,” said one of the 2 teenaged girls who stopped to watch me play. She put a dollar in my case; I handed out leis to both girls, who hailed from Kingston, NY.
A mom came up with her camera and asked, “What are you doing?”
“We’re doing the hula,” was the answer.
Mom tossed me another dollar, and when I started the second verse of “The Hukilau Song,” she tossed in a third. Blowing past my break-even in the first 10 minutes of busking was a harbinger of a good day.
A woman with a bright orange muumuu smiled as she walked past me toward The Boathouse. On her return, she smiled again and laid a single in my case.
A family, consisting of mom, dad and 2 kids under 10, a boy and a girl, hung out by the fence to watch the rowboats. With her back to me, mom started swaying to my music. As they turned to leave, she smoothed out a fiver and floated it into my case. A moment later, the young boy ran back to me with another buck.
When I counted out my money, there were $10 in paper currency, plus 1 quarter that someone had tossed in when I wasn’t looking.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: The Hukilau Song
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Mid-August Thursday
0August 16, 2019 by admin
I can hear Colin’s amped guitar from Cherry Hill. He is playing Al Green’s “I’m So in Love with You” (1972). As I approach, he says, “Ten minutes.”
I’d just started to set up when I heard him lament, “I’ve popped a string.” His 10 minutes was now.
Half way through my first 30 minutes, a man started filming “Ukulele Lady.” I gave him a full-face rendition, after which he flashed the thumbs-up. “Ok,” I said to him. “You’ve got yours, now it’s your turn to do a hula dance for me.”
“No, no,” he said.
“It’s only fair,” I said, but nevertheless he walked away. At my first break, my case was empty.
Things picked up after that. A photographer gave me $2 for a picture. A woman off the bench added another dollar. Two Chinese teenagers, having listened to me sing during their lunch, dropped over a dollar in change as they left the fountain area.
An Israeli man, his son on his shoulders, stopped to listen. The little boy did not want to hula, but his mother did. His father, unable to convince his son to get down, put a lei on and joined in anyway, for another $2.
A young couple from Los Angeles stopped to hula, then walked away.
Dancing toward me from the bench came a giant of a man, 6-4 or better and 350 pounds. He took a lei and hula-ed gracefully, his eyes cast skyward, as he swayed to “The Hukilau Song.” I started to introduce the second verse; he interrupted, “I know, I know.” At the lyric, “kanes and wahinis sing a song about love,” he covered his heart with a soulful gesture and brought his dance to an end. He pulled 2 bills out of his wallet, a single and a fiver, then gave me the single.
A 20-something couple from Toronto threw a dollar coin in my case. “Have you got time for a hula today?” They did, after which the woman reached into her purse and tossed me another dollar coin.
After my 90 minutes, I counted out $9.31, plus a coin that appears to be a 5 Turkish kuru piece, .05 lira, worth less than a penny.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: I'm So in Love with You, The Hukilau Song, Ukulele Lady
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Rain Delay
0August 11, 2019 by admin
A few more stellas were blooming on Friday. Along the path, a wood anemone, also known as windflower, poked through the underbrush, laden with buds. Another stand of wood anemone, under the pin oak across the road from Daniel Webster, was in full flower, with buds sufficient to last the rest of the summer.
I stood up when Colin sat down. Before long, a woman from Munich came by with a dollar. We talked auf Deutsch, until my German faltered, and I reverted to Hawaiian. “Aloha.”
A mother of 2 walked by. “Have you got time for a hula today?” Mom consulted with her kids; the 5-year-old girl was game, but the 8-year-old boy would have nothing to do with the hula. While the girl struggled to keep her arms up and moving, her brother called out instructions. He grabbed a handful of leis off the back of my case and put them over his sister’s head, one by one by one. Never flinching, the girl concluded her dance with a twirl and a curtsey. Her mom gave me $2.
A teen-aged boy in long black pants and a sleeveless T-shirt strutted by. “S’up,” he said, tossing a dime and a penny into my case. When I broke for a long swallow of water after playing for 30 minutes, I’d already made my carfare.
The rain started lightly, carried by a cold wet wind blowing in from the west. People started scrambling as it rained more heavily. I threw everything into my case and carried it into the arcade, where I found a seat along the wall. A do-wop group, accompanied by a bass viol, entertained the crowd.
Dominic, the big bubble man, carrying his bucket of soapy water and netting, found a spot to sit down near me. “No bubbles in the rain?”
“Are you kidding?” he said. “Every raindrop falls like a rock.”
“I’m not sure I have the patience to wait this out,” I said.
“It won’t last,” said Dominic. “Look, it’s clearing already.” Indeed, there were small patches of blue amid the dark clouds moving toward us from Central Park West.
“Ok,” I said, “you convinced me.”
After a rain delay of 15 minutes, I ventured forth and set up again. I played for the next hour, yet despite the return of the crowds, $3.16 was all there would be.
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