1. Another Cool, Wet Day

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    July 27, 2017 by admin

    Tuesday was another cool, wet day, but it did not keep people away.  At the Imagine Mosaic, the platoon guitarist sang “Here Comes the Sun.”

     

    Bethesda Fountain sported the usual buskers, the Boyd Family Singers in the arcade, Lady Liberty at the bottom of the western stairs, and the big bubble man on the central medallion of Bethesda Terrace.  I took up my spot at the eastern edge of the fountain.

     

    Two girls from Melbourne Beach, Florida, danced an acrobatic hula.  Mom gave me $2.  A man, amused, gave me a dollar.

     

    Two women from Rhode Island were taking pictures at the fountain.  Reluctantly, they hula-ed.  As I transitioned into the second verse of “The Hukilau Song,” they found their stride, including a deep, dramatic bow at the conclusion.  Grinning with aloha, one of the women found a fiver in her wallet for me.  The second woman added a single.

     

    Another twosome, both tall, skinny teenaged girls, danced to the hukilau.  A 40-something man, having watched the show from the benches, tipped me a dollar.  “Quite an operation you’re running here,” he said.  A woman, who had also observed from the bench, dropped a handful of change.

     

    An extended Muslim family, consisting of young children, several women in head scarves and dark, mustachioed men, sat in various configurations near me for a set of photos.  At the end of the shoot, one of the men gave me $2.

     

    A 30-something woman with a large dog asked for a picture.  I handed her a lei and she put it on the dog.  “Sit,” she said.  “Stay.”  The dog at first tried to shake off the lei, but finally settled down for a picture.  The woman gave me some change.

     

    At the end of my set, a young woman came up to me with 2 singles and laid them carefully under the capo I used to keep my money from blowing away.  “Love the uke,” she said.

     

    “Me too.”

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  2. After the Rain

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    July 25, 2017 by admin

    I watched the rain stop around noon, strapped on my ukulele and headed out into a light drizzle.  I’ve been away so much this summer that even a bad day in the park was still pretty good.  The dog roses were a glorious red, sparkling with rain water, but otherwise I noticed no new plantings.  One lonely pedicab driver was bent over his cell phone.  The button sellers did not come out today, nor did the guitarists at the Imagine Mosaic.  A few intrepid tourists in clear plastic ponchos wandered the paths.

     

    The blight has browned most of the chestnut tree near the path.  The second chestnut tree deep within Strawberry Fields is also showing signs of blight.

     

    Except for a production company filming an ad, Bethesda Fountain was quiet.  The crew was waiting for the director to return; he’d gone for coffee somewhere to wait out the rain.  Shortly after I started my set, 3 girls from Manchester stopped to examine my solar-powered hula girls, which, despite the overcast sky, still managed to operate.  I soon had a lei around one of their necks, and off we went to “The Hukilau Song.”

     

    After the dance, they walked away.  A little girl stopped to hula.  Her mom gave me a dollar, then the Manchester girl came back with a dollar and change.  A well-coiffed woman of a certain age, in a stylish tomato-red pants suit, walked by and emptied a purseful of change into my case.

     

    A trio of wise-ass teenagers bopped around as they walked by.  I was singing “That’s My Weakness Now,” and had come to the lyric about baby talk: “I never cared for baby talk, but b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b, that’s my weakness now.”  One of the kids burst out laughing, turned back and rewarded me with a buck.

     

    A woman walked by and dropped a couple of quarters; she would not hula.

     

    A dozen or so Canadian high schoolers lined up for a hula.  I saw a few bills go into my case, but mostly coin.  I got more coins, from a little girl, a teenaged boy and an old woman.  People were flocking back to the park.  Although still cool and overcast, the rain was over.  The director had returned and was barking orders.  I had about 10 minutes left in my set, but the crew didn’t know that.  It occurred to me that someone might pay me to shut up and go away, as has often happened in the past.

     

    A toddler wanted to dance.  I found my half-lei, especially for small heads, and dad put it on.  The kid, however, would not dance.  She cried.  Dad hoisted her up, fished a dollar out of his wallet for me, and carried her off, with my lei.

     

    All around me, the film crew was pushing wagons piled with lights, electronics, wires and whatnot.  It would probably be an hour or more before they’d need silence.  I counted out $12.05, far more than I’d expected in this weather.  I packed up and went away for free.

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  3. Another Hot Day

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    July 13, 2017 by admin

    As I entered Strawberry Fields, the ice-cold water man was scrounging for change.  “I don’t have 19 singles,” he said, as he offered around a 20-dollar bill to the platoon guitarists.

     

    The jazz combo  —  bass, drum, horn and electric guitar  —  played across the road.

     

    At Bethesda Fountain, the cowboy was crooning to his amplified accompaniment.  I was happy to see him, because it was far too hot to play center stage.  I tipped my hat and kept walking toward the maple.

     

    “Good morning,” I said to the handwriting analyst.

     

    “Good morning, my friend.”

     

    The Ukrainian art seller waved hello as I walked past.

     

    Four Englishwomen stopped.  One of them wanted to buy a lei, which I sold to her for $2, under the condition that she dance a hula.

     

    Another quartet of women, these from Idaho, stopped for a hula.  After the dance, three walked off, leaving one behind to fish a dollar out of her wallet for me.

     

    Yet another quartet, 2 boys and 2 girls, from Brooklyn, stopped to hula.  After the dance, all four walked away.

     

    A 40-something man slowed as he walked by, turned and came back with a buck.  “Mr. Ukulele,” he said, reading from my CD.  “Gracias.”

     

    The 2 boys from Brooklyn returned.  “Did you ditch the girls?”

     

    “They ditched us,” one answered, “for ice cream.”

     

    A little girl of 6 or 7 stopped to hula.  When she had done, a family of 4, sitting on the rock outcropping behind me, burst into applause.  The little girl shyly acknowledged the applause, then took a dollar from her mom and handed it to me.

     

    “So now, how about a hula dance from you guys,” I asked the family.  When no one moved, the teen-aged boy stood up and came out from behind the fence to dance.  His mom followed with the camera.  They were from Louisiana.  Mom folded up 2 singles and dropped them into my case.  The family applauded, but not nearly as enthusiastically as they had for the little girl.

     

    It was time to pack up.  I stuffed 7 singles into my pocket, swung my uke case onto my back, and stepped out into the sun from the shade of the maple tree.

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