1. Getting Crowded

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    July 19, 2014 by admin

    I had my hat, so center stage was a possibility. Deciding I’d gotten enough sun this week, however, I headed instead to my spot in the shade. There was a guy there with a trolley full of gear. “Are you planning to play here?” I asked him.

    “Yeah,” he said. He was a disheveled, balding man in his 40s or 50s, pale and not altogether clean.

    “Cause this is my spot.”

    “I don’t know you,” he glared at me.

    “I don’t know you either, just saying, I’m here almost every day. I’ll go find somewhere else to play today.” This guy had way too much gear; he wouldn’t last. “You’re going to use an amp?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Cause if you are they’ll shut you down, and you could screw it up for the rest of us. Especially if you start rocking out or something.”

    “No, man, I’m too old for that. I’m just out here because they told me at the hospital I need to get out and do something. They don’t want me hanging out inside all day. Hey, what’s your name?” he asked, taking out an electronic cigarette, sucking on it once and putting it back in his shirt pocket. “My name’s Heartstring.”

    “Call me Mr. Ukulele.”

    So back to center stage, in my hat. Three 20-something girls stopped to dance, but not the hula. They wanted to swing. “Only one rule here,” I said, “you have to wear a lei.” While one shot the video, the other two danced the swing to the hukilau. Triple step, triple step, rock step. They put on quite a show, through two verses and the big ending, A7 to D7 over and over before resolving to G. Then they walked off.

    I had a second walk-off of another kind about 15 minutes later. A couple sat down on the stone bench directly in front of me to eat lunch. They seemed to like the music, applauding at the end of every number. The young woman laughed and gave me a thumbs-up at the rhyme, “in those hula Honolula eyes.” I was inspired to serve up “Give Me a Ukulele and a Ukulele Baby (and with a Little Ukin’ You Can Leave the Rest to Me,” just to see if I’d get the same reaction. Instead, they gathered their trash, waved an approving goodbye and left.

    Somewhere during that performance, a woman walked by and waved her arms hula-style. “How about a hula today?”

    “No, not today,” she said, adding, “You seem to be having a good time.”

    As indeed I was. It was a $3 day. As I packed up, the breathy sound of an accordion wafted over the plaza, barely audible over the splashing fountain. A woman had set up in the shade at the start of the path. The busker scene, like the weather, has started to heat up.

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  2. A Very Fine Day

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    July 18, 2014 by admin

    The day was almost perfect, temperature hovering around 80, pillowy white clouds, cool breezes, and humidity down to comfortable levels. I even wore a hat today, so the direct sun exposure at the fountain didn’t bake my brain. The fountain area, however, was already occupied by The Hong Kong Dragon Boat Festival, for their annual awakening ceremony. In addition to the dragon boat itself, a long canoe-like vessel, there was a press table and a PA system, all under the sponsorship of HSBC and others.

    “You do know that HSBC is an admitted drug-money launderer?” I asked a young man at the press table. He pretended he did not, so I explained it to him.

    “Oh, well,” he said, “as long as they give some of that money to us.” I had to laugh. These dragon boaters knew on which side their bread was buttered, or whatever the equivalent Chinese idiom.

    There would be no center stage today. As I moved on toward my maple, I said hello to Nick, the handwriting analyst, who, weeks ago, had been displaced by a wire fence intended to protect the reseeded lawn. Today he set out his table and chairs near the bench.

    A young woman gave me a dollar within seconds of my first song. I had a hula dancer and a reluctant hula wannabe, then a dapper gentleman walking with a single hospital-issued crutch stopped to listen. He dropped a buck, but stayed to hear more. Seeing my CD, he asked how much.

    “Ten dollars,” I said. I made change of twenty out of my wallet. This was indeed a very fine day.

    Here came the bride, in her short red hair and long white dress, carrying a bouquet of cream colored roses. I broke into “The Hawaiian Wedding Song.” They held hands as I sang to them.

    A young couple stopped. “We just married,” said the man. “Five days ago, in Italy.”

    “This is our 10th anniversary,” said the bride. The Italian handed me his camera so I should take a picture of all this marital bliss. The bride gave me her camera too. With all the posing and camera-swapping, it looked as if they had forgotten about me, but in the end the groom coughed up $2.

    After my set I walked back past the fountain. The dragon boat was gone, but another table had been set up next to the stairs just outside the tunnel. I walked a little closer to read the sign: Prayer Station. There were a number of books and pamphlets arrayed in front of 2 teenage boys, one of whom gave me a wide smile.

    “What’s this?” I growled at him.

    “What can we pray for you today?”

    “You can pray that god and religion will stay out of our public spaces,” I told him. I drew a breath to say more, but settled for a sincere “Aloha” and continued home.

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  3. Now Playing Center Stage

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    July 17, 2014 by admin

    Overcast, with a cool breeze. Entering the park, I spot the thriving cosmos, as tall as the wall now, blooming pink, white and red. The rose bushes sport a few flowers, but are getting a bit hippy. The crowds seem thin; perhaps it’s the threat of rain, or maybe the Wednesday matinees. No one’s playing at the fountain, so today I dare to take center stage.

    Often at Bethesda Fountain I obverse a peculiar tourist behavior. Although Mr. Ukulele, that energetically appealing, if somewhat talent-challenged, old man crooning island-themed ditties, is standing right in front of them, they choose to throw their money in the water instead of in his case. Dad positions his little girl for the camera, keeping me out of frame, then in go a couple of coins, plop, plop. He hustles her away, ignoring my question: “Got time for a hula today?” Mom clutches her purse, as if I meant to snatch it. Yet Aloha is preserved, because later in the day, a homeless man will wade through the fountain pool, searching for the silvery glint of little girls’ wishes.

    A man proudly watched his daughter hula, then asked me how much for the lei. Ordinarily I will not sell them, answering, “Can’t do that, these are my means of production.” Today, however, I asked for a dollar. He was halfway up the path to the boathouse when he turned back, waving another dollar. “You want to pay me twice?” I asked. He grabbed another lei. “It is always the case,” he explained in a lilting accent, “when a man has two daughters.”

    A woman took my card. She was planning a family reunion at the Jersey shore and might want to hire me to be a roving minstrel among 50-60 relations of all ages. That’s twice this month someone’s asked about my availability as party entertainment; my career seems about to take off.

    Three young men from Montreal lingered. “My friend here plays the uke.”

    “Oh, yeah, let’s hear what you can do,” offering him the instrument.

    “Now?” he asked, then realizing there was no later, he took the uke, located a few chords, and smiled up at his friends. “Riptide,” he announced, and his friends joyfully joined in. Afterward, there were pictures, and a crisp ten-spot in my case.

    After an hour the sun broke through the clouds. I thought I should probably move to my shady spot on the path, but instead I soldiered on, with $20.19 for my efforts.

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