1. Sunny Saturday in May

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    May 3, 2014 by admin

    The park was as crowded on Saturday as I’ve ever seen it. Little knots of NYC policemen were scattered all about, keeping an eye out. Ordinarily city cops are scarce in the park, with most authority invested in the Central Park Conservancy, so maybe this marks a policy change from the old administration.

    The daffodils are done; now the tulips are in full-throated bloom. Along the edge of the path, violets and dandelions cling to the wire fence, safe from the lawn mower, while across the road to the south several maple trees unfold their rusty red leaves to the sun. The break dancers’ boom box was audible at 50 yards. Arlen and Meta bravely played over the din.

    At my spot on the path by the Lake, I opened with “Making Love Ukulele Style,” and for the next 20 minutes I lifted my voice to the sky, since no one on the ground was paying any attention. At last, 3 girls from Thailand stopped to hula and take pictures. Not long afterward, a proper gentleman in ascot and cap, with a pencil-thin mustache, asked me if he might take a picture. I smiled. He focused, clicked, then dropped a sawbuck in my case. Half an hour in, I already had $13.

    A lovely couple from New Mexico stopped to talk, first about ukuleles, then, at length, about how much we were enjoying our retirements. “Well, this has been worth $2,” he said, reaching for his wallet. His wife was aghast. “How can you say that to the man?”

    “Not at all,” I said. “I play my music for free. You decide what it’s worth.”

    To end my 90 minute set, I sang “My Little Grass Shack,” and shouted to the passing crowd, “Aloha, New York.” While packing up, a young woman approached me from behind, where she and her friends had been picnicking on the newly seeded lawn. She handed me 3 singles over the fence. Not counting the 5 centavos coin that was mixed in with the change dropped by some Brazilians, my total take was $22.19, just a penny shy of my personal best.

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  2. May Day

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    May 2, 2014 by admin

    The weather has been dreary for a week, and this morning promised the same. I wished it would clear up, and then it did. A lot is happening in the park. Never mind the bulbs, which are glorious, the growing green tips have appeared in the tree branches; the gingko is already in full leaf. Past the Imagine Mosaic, there is a lone chestnut tree, which looks great in the spring, but by July is plainly stressed by the blight. At the moment, its spikey blossoms are already 4 inches long. Elms, also blighted, have produced their fluffy clusters of seeds; over the next few weeks the elm seeds in their aerodynamic envelopes will land in my ukulele case and cling to the velvet lining.

    They’ve put a fence up along the path, so Nick is gone. I should now have Location #2 to myself for a few weeks at least, until the reseeded sections of the lawn take hold. I set up as usual. The park is quiet. No rowboats on the Lake. Small groups of tourists with guidebooks walk by.

    “Aloha, got time for a hula today?” A young woman from France did; so did a young Italian. One dad gave me a buck, then junior wanted to also, so I got 2 bucks. A large group from Wilbraham Mass came by. The leader told me they were on a tight schedule, then 10 minutes later another large group from Wilbraham came by and couldn’t have been more eager to hula in the park. Go Titans.

    At one point the god awful honk of Canada Geese split the air, and from the west came 2, then 2 more enormous fowl loudly splash-landing in front of the Boat House, to the delight of the outdoor diners. While I sang I kept an eye on them. First, they climbed up on the rocks and challenged the picnickers there, then they flew back out to the center of the Lake and performed some loud mating dance of death, or so it sounded to me.

    Two Korean girls stopped to hear me. One said, “I too play the ukulele. No, just beginner,” she said when I handed her my uke to see what she could do. I offered again and she took it. She sat on the ground so she could manage the tenor uke and sang a beautiful song in a sweet wavering soprano. The chords were simple, yet still interesting. She stopped and gave me back the uke. “That’s all I know,” she said.

    Which for all of us is a good place to stop.

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