1. Stolen Friday

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    July 31, 2016 by admin

    After a hard rain Friday, the sun came out, and so did I. The park was alternately cooled by a damp breeze under roiling gray clouds, or steamed by vapors rising from the hot sun-baked bricks. A trio of college girls coasted on their bikes and came to a stop near me. They were from the Jersey Shore and immediately agreed to a hula. Midway through the first verse of “The Hukilau Song,” however, they quit and walked away.

    An Italian man watched proudly as his daughter danced. It was his first time in New York; he was pretty sure it was the most wonderful city in the world.

    I got a thumbs-up and a dollar from a 40-something man. He had been sitting a few degrees of arc around the fountain where I could not see him. Another happy surprise came from a teen-aged boy, who walked up from the water’s edge and said, “I really enjoyed your music.”

    At the end of my set I pocketed $3. I was happy to have gotten out when the weather looked so awful, and I even earned back my carfare.

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  2. No Advice for You

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    July 22, 2016 by admin

    A stand of creamy white coneflowers with gold button centers gave height and color to the palette at Women’s Gate. I spied a few scrawny hydrangea florets under the dogwood. On the north pergola, the wisteria has gone crazy with twisty vines. In my many years of busking I have yet to see it bloom. There are pink hosta, and double orange daylilies, kwanzaa.

    At center stage, I sat on the hot stone surrounding the fountain and unpacked my hula girls, leis and CDs. The ritual focuses me. I use a capo to keep the bills from blowing away, and lay out a sign, “Got Aloha?” which came with a purchase from Aloha Shirt Shop. My dashboard Hawaiian uke player is showing his age; I’ve recently added a cocktail umbrella for him to rest under. I tune, hydrate, remove my watch, note the time, stand and play. Today I opened with “Making Love Ukulele Style.”

    Two teenagers, both wearing mirrored sunglasses, wanted a picture. They were from Mexico, and knew how to hula. Soon I had them going to the hukilau.

    A family of women stopped to listen, at least 3 generations. A 35-40-year-old woman wore a sticker, “Grandmas for Peace.”

    “So who’s the grandma?

    “I am,” she said, although to my eye she was more daughter, sister, mommie. “And I want to hula. Where are the hoops?”

    “No hoops, leis,” I said. She didn’t seem to mind. Her hula was spirited and varied. She had her family howling with laughter.

    Two girls from Oxford, UK, danced the hula and walked away. Or, alternatively, I drove them away with stories about my stay in Oxford, England, long before they were born. A group of kids from Sweden, Michigan and New Jersey stood at a distance and listened, finally tossing in some change.

    A boy of 8 or 9 ran up with a handful of coins, mostly nickels. “You want to hula?” I asked, reaching for a lei. He nodded eagerly. “What are you going to do with that?” He offered his nickels to me. “Put them in the case.” He did. “Now your hands are free to hula.” With a grin of delight, he danced to the hukilau. “You want to keep going?” He did. He told me he was from California.

    A young woman from the Bronx, with lip, nose and ear piercings, and severely cut green hair, rocked out to “The Hukilau Song.” She jumped around through the intro, teased out a hula into the first verse, then quit before throwing her net into the sea. I took the lei back from her and she walked off.

    A tall, elderly man had been walking around the fountain, sitting for a while, listening from a distance. He finally came up and introduced himself. Al was a retired doctor who played jazz piano. “I love it that you play all the old tunes,” he said. We talked for a while, he gave me a dollar, then he walked off to take a phone call.

    A Swiss couple sat around the fountain. They were newly-weds. We chatted about New York, Zurich and Montreux. They sat down as I turned to play, but gave me a dollar when they left.

    At the end of my set, Al came around again. He was supposed to have met someone, but she called and said she’d be late. “How long do you think I should wait?”

    “I’ve been married 42 years and just became a grandfather,” I told him. “I have no advice for you.” Swinging my uke onto my back, I wished him Aloha.

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  3. A Busy Day

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    July 21, 2016 by admin

    I’d hardly begun before 2 teenage girls walked up and put money in my case, but they refused to dance. A 30-something man from California gave me a buck. I told him I had just come home from L.A. where my daughter had given birth. “Your dawta?” he repeated. “Now I know I’m in New Yawk.”

    Marcel came by with Maggie the dog. While we chatted, I circled around the G major chords, G-G7-C-Cm-G-D7-G. A young boy gave me a quarter. A Chinese girl wanted a picture. “You’re busy,” said Marcel, picking up Maggie and continuing their walk.

    A man got off the bench and gave me a dollar, saying, “Thanks for the music.”

    A man stopped with 2 girls and wanted a picture. He was from Cherry Hill, NJ. His daughter reminded me that she had danced the hula with me last year. This year her friend and her dad joined in. A pre-teen French girl watched, then danced her own hula when the Cherry Hill gang had gone.

    A family of Michiganders stopped to listen. The dad was particularly interested; he had just taken up the uke. “Do you know ‘Ukulele Lady’?” I played him a verse while his family walked to the edge of the plaza, where they found some shade.

    A Spanish man and his daughter danced next, followed by a pair of Argentine girls, who walked away. A photographer caught the whole dance from a distance, then gave me a dollar.

    Another photographer was taking pictures of the fountain, moving his tripod a few feet, taking another, etc. It took him a few minutes to move through my space. I tried to stay out of his way, for which he rewarded me with a buck.

    Despite the heat, a cool breeze gave relief. At the end of my set, my heart, as well as my pocket, was full.

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