1. Favorite Troubadour

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    June 8, 2016 by admin

    I forgot my hat today, so it was just as well that the CPC was still occupying the fountain. I headed to the shade of the maple, where the 2 caricaturists had taken up residency, and kept going, to the tall bush that made a slender shelter from the sun.

    A trio of 30-somethings pointed me out to each other as they approached. One of them gave me a dollar and said, “Good work.”

    It was to be like that throughout the set, only without the dollar. A Danish woman loved my hula dolls and wanted to buy one for her grandson. We spent quite a bit of time discussing, until, with a shrug she said, “Maybe later,” and walked away. Another woman popped up next to me and said, “Guess where I’m from.” She was, of course, from Maui, and wanted a selfie. I put a lei around her neck, she flagged down a passerby to take the shot, posed us, approved the pictures and was gone. A CPC volunteer, Elaine, I think her name is, said, “Remember me? You’re my favorite troubadour.” We’d met a few years ago when she heard me singing, “Did You Ever See a Dream Walking.” I started strumming the introduction, but she was in a hurry and walked away. Finally, a woman, who smiled at me on her way to the restrooms, smiled at me on her way back. “You radiate joy,” she said as she walked by.

    I did manage to end the day in the black. A little kid crumpled up a bill and tossed it in. A woman smoothed out her bill, and, laying it down gently, said, “Perfect, especially in this setting.” With a wave of her arm she took in the lake and boaters, the blue sky and white clouds, the birds and trees, and, its 2 towers rising above the treetops, the San Remo on Central Park West at 75th St. I could not argue with perfection.

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  2. Modest Monday

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    June 7, 2016 by admin

    Breaking the monotony of green, red fuschia flowers poked out of reddish green leaves, and elsewhere white astilbe and a yellow daisy-like flower with a black center caught the eye. The white, 4-petaled dogwood floated above the button seller. Moms and their babies were spread out on blankets in the shade. The clump of pink roses by the road to Cherry Hill looked none the worse for the heavy rain storms last night. Forty feet up, clusters of white catalpa flowers formed in the sun.

    Bethesda Fountain was closed; the Central Park Conservancy had covered it with tents for one of their multi-day fund raisers. So I hiked over the hill to the east and descended to my spot on the path under the maple, which I had to myself for about 30 minutes, before first one, then a second caricaturist set up their stools and easels. The mature mulberry tree in front of me had already set fruit, while the two nearby juveniles still held onto their fuzzy white flowers.

    A couple with a kid in a carriage stopped to dance. They told me they had lived in Hawaii for 11 years. Out of the carriage, the little girl wobbled to me, refused the lei, but managed to prance around with delight. Another mom and carriage stopped in the shade to watch. She also gave me a buck.

    A woman with purple hair walked by, heard the music and started to dance. I got a lei around her neck and off we went to the hukilau. Her companion took a picture, peeled a dollar from his bankroll. At the end of the dance, the woman took her lei off and put it around my neck, giving me a peck on the cheek. “That’s the way they do it in Hawaii, don’t they?”

    Maggie the dog came by, with her owner, Marcel. Maggie loves to sit in front of me and watch while I sing. She also draws her own crowd, as if nothing were so unusual as a dog with a taste for uke music. While people took Maggie’s picture, I continued to strum through chord sequences and talked to Marcel. A kid of 5 or 6, after petting the dog with permission, tossed a quarter into my case.

    “I won’t be seeing you for a while,” I told Marcel. “I’m off to California for a month. Bye-bye, Maggie, see you in July.”

    Mondays are notoriously bad for buskers. At $3.25, it was a little worse than usual, but anything more than $2.70, my round trip carfare, puts me in the black. With such a low bar, and with the Aloha Spirit, success is not hard to achieve.

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  3. Best Day of the Year

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    June 3, 2016 by admin

    The stella d’oro lilies have bloomed bright gold, with lantana and penstemon in the background. In the foreground, the park gardeners have planted out cleome and euphorbia. Red dog-roses are blooming in profusion behind the benches, while deeper in the park the dog-roses are in massive clumps of pink, and deep red garden roses send fat buds into the sky.

    The road was lined with porta-potties from Royal Flush, for the JP Morgan Corporate Challenge run last night and tonight. As I got close to Bethesda Fountain, I could see giant bubbles floating high over the road toward Central Park South. The park was mobbed, auguring a good day.

    Right off the bat, 2 sisters from Baton Rouge danced the hula. Shortly afterward, 2 women from Ohio put $6 in my case, then sat down to have their lunch. They sat there through the rest of my set.

    A girl of 3 or 4, wearing a Minnie Mouse tee, walked slowly by with her mom, who pushed an empty stroller. “Hi, Minnie,” I said, “have you got time for a hula today?” She nodded yes; I looked up at her mom, who also nodded yes. So it was off again to the hukilau. The girl’s name was Sylvia, and after we were done, she handed the lei back to me and rejoined her mom. I watched as mom helped Sylvia dig through her pocketbook until they came up with a shiny quarter, which Sylvia gently placed among the few bills in my case.

    A teenager walked by with his family, stopped to listen, then ran to catch up. A little while later he was back with a dollar.

    Another toddler, this one 4-5 years old, came by with mom and dad. After her hula, mom and dad opened their wallets and conferred, finally handing me a bill for 5 Brazilian reals, worth approximately $1.40. “We have no US money,” mom said, “but there are many Brazilian people in New York.”

    A group of rising high school freshmen from the Central Valley of California gathered nearby. A few kids did the hula, then a few more. Later, a few more, then a few more. Finally, the teacher did the hula. Each kid dropped some money, and the teacher dropped a fiver.

    In the shade, where the path from the boathouse enters the fountain area, a group of adults gathered. They were still wearing their admission stickers for the Metropolitan Museum. One of them came forward with a fiver, followed by others with singles.

    It was hot, and I’d emptied my water bottle, so even though I still had 10 minutes left, I started singing my closing number, “Little Grass Shack.” Just then, a young teen from Arizona wanted to hula; after the first verse of “The Hukilau Song,” her sister joined her. Dad, who was taking pictures, peeled a fiver off a wad of bills.

    At the end of the day, I counted out $39.63, plus 5 reals, the best day of 2016.

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