1. Penultimate Hula

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    October 31, 2015 by admin

    Thursday may well have been the last busking day of the season, yet I’ll remain optimistic there will be another.

    The temperature was above 70. Large dark November clouds rolled in and kicked up a cool breeze, but they failed to mask the sun for long. The park was being prepared for the NYC Marathon on Sunday. Six foot chain link fence surrounded the roadways. Steel structures arched over West Drive with signage. The fall foliage was at its peak, predominantly orange and yellow, punctuated by flame red. Pink roses were still forming buds in the warmth, while just where the marble balustrade of Bethesda Terrace comes into view, a wave of purple asters reminded me that this could be the end.

    The cowboy was by the water, so I set up at center stage. There were fewer people around than I would have expected on a day so fine. I didn’t even see many runners.

    A contingent of French bicyclists dismounted nearby. After checking their tires and maps, one of the men stopped to listen. I saw him smile at the simple lyrics of “I Saw Stars.” After a few more songs, he came over with $2. He had a little boy of 3 or 4, who, fascinated by the uke, clapped his hands and bopped around. Pretty soon I had a lei around his neck and we were going to the hukilau. All the Frenchmen whipped out their hardware and took pictures. Pere gave me another dollar. As they rode off there were shouts of Merci, Mahalo, Aloha.

    A man came forward, from I didn’t see where, gave me $2, and, without eye contact, walked away.

    A young Chinese couple arrived on the scene with great flair, whirling in a dance-like embrace. She wore a bright red mid-length trench coat buckled at the waist that flared as her partner led her in graceful circles. They were definitely up for a hula. They were heading back to China to be married.

    A young Italian man, handsome, tall and ill-shaven gave me a dollar and said, “I want to have a picture with you.” His girlfriend was ready with the camera. He got giddy when I put a lei around his neck. He took my uke from me and grinned into the camera. “Look, mama,” he said, “I got a job in America.”

    A photographer gave me a dollar. He took quite a few pictures, then sat down on the bench across from me and listened for 10 minutes.

    To my left, toward the water, a man, woman and dog warmed themselves and listened. A woman to my right also listened while her partner rested her head in her lap. When the partner stirred, the woman came up and shook my hand. She told me, in an English accent, that she’d loved my singing, then turned and walked away.

    When the man, woman and dog got up to leave, they dropped a dollar in my case. The man said in a soft voice, “We really enjoyed it.”

    I really enjoyed it too. Aloha.

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  2. An Average Outing

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    October 23, 2015 by admin

    As I waited for the light to change so I could cross the road without getting hit by a bike, I was instead hit in the head with an acorn. I picked it up from among the pile of acorns drifting against the curb, tore off the outer shell and examined the nut inside. It was dry, with the texture of particleboard. I popped it into my mouth and spit it out; it tasted like sawdust.

    Again, on my October schedule, I found center stage uncontested. I took in a couple bucks from passersby and a few folks who had sat down on the benches to soak in the sun, and who enjoyed a ukulele show as a bonus.

    A family of 5 wandered by, mom, dad, 2 daughters and a son, accompanied by one of mom’s friends. Mom immediately started to hula. I waved a lei at her and invited her to join me. “I don’t have any money,” she said.

    “No charge for hulas,” I told her.

    A moment later, she and her 2 daughters approached with a dollar. “Look what my friend gave me,” said mom. I lined them up and off we went to the hukilau. Mom was graceful and fluid in her hand gestures; her girls awkwardly tried to copy her, then gave it up for free style head banging. The family was from Chicago, so I felt compelled to apologize for the Mets’ sweeping them 4-0 for the National League pennant.

    Toward the end of my set, a woman from South Jersey, “Exit 5,” happily hula-ed, adding another $2 to my case. At $7, it was an average outing for me, on an extraordinarily beautiful October afternoon.

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  3. The Man from the Movie

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    October 22, 2015 by admin

    In addition to the sights and sounds of autumn, there is the smell of the ginkgo tree. As I entered Strawberry Fields, it hit me in the face like a bag of compost.

    The cowboy was packing up when I got to Bethesda Fountain; center stage was uncontested. The park was filled with people on yet another 70+ degree day. On the bench opposite, 2 elderly men were sketching. After a few songs, as they got ready to leave, one of them, shorter than me and slightly bent, with thick, curly, salt and pepper hair that may have been a toupee, came forward and handed me two $5 bills. Though I won’t say for certain, I think it was Tony Bennett. He said, “Very nice.”

    A young Asian man, sitting on the rim of the fountain, gave me $1 when he left.

    A young boy and older man, perhaps an old father or young grandfather, rested on the benches. When I finished the first verse and started the chorus of “Tiptoe through the Tulips,” the man perked up with recognition. At the start of the second verse, where Romeo and Juliet are used as transitive verbs, the man reached for his wallet and sent the boy over to me with a dollar.

    A 2-year-old girl, dressed head to foot in orange velour, toddled over. I twisted the lei to double it, so it didn’t drag on the ground while the girl worked her chubby knees up and down in what we’ll call a hula. Another little girl wanted to go to the hukilau too, and soon the dancing babies drew a nice crowd of people, who ooh-ed and ah-ed as they took photos, a few of whom thought to tip the ukulele man.

    Two young men each gave me a dollar. “Good job,” said one of them.

    “Have you got time for a hula today?” The girl of 6 or 7 was just waiting to be asked.

    “Yes,” she said, wide-eyed. With the lei around her neck, there was no stopping her. She ran and leaped in a wild, ecstatic burst of energy. She even did a few cartwheels. I asked her dad, when he handed over a dollar, if any of the furniture in his house was still in one piece, recalling the wreakage I created as a child jumping on beds and tumbling from sofa to floor in my own gymnastic enthusiasms.

    Over the crest of the path came Marcel, with Maggie the dog. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen them. “We’ve been coming out later,” Marcel told me.

    “Me too,” I said, which is why, of course, I was seeing them now.

    With about 5 minutes left in my set, 2 men got off the bench and put $2 in my case. “Where are you from?”

    “Slovenia.”

    “I believe you are my first Slovenians,” I told them, shaking hands.

    As they walked away, one of them turned to me and said, “You look like the man from the movie.”

    Since I had no idea what he was talking about, I was forced to respond, “I suppose I do.”

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