1. Summer’s End

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    August 27, 2017 by admin

    The faint stink of ginkgo greeted me upon entering Strawberry Fields.  Another sign of summer’s end, the fallen leaves of plane trees freckled the green lawn at Daniel Webster’s feet.

     

    Bethesda Fountain was given over to the film crew for a new movie, “Three Seconds,” coming out next year.  A sign on the stairway warned that anyone in the area could end up on the silver screen.  I set up at center stage, ignoring the many PA’s with headsets, the techies with clipboards, and the bevvy of people huddled around the director’s chair in the arcade.  I stood to play, scanning left and right for anyone approaching who might want me to shut up and go away.

     

    Three young people, 2 women, and a man with earrings and a blonde streak in his hair, wandered by.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  One of the women, who was from New York, was all in, and, after a few words of encouragement, so were her friends from Connecticut and Philly.  They rocked out to “The Hukilau Song.”  The New Yorker danced and took pictures at the same time.  Afterward, she showed me a handful of coins, pointing out that most of them were Susan B’s.  In fact, there were 5 Susan B’s, and 2 quarters, plus another 2 bucks from her friends.

     

    A threesome of 5-year-olds were the next to dance the hula.  Three dads took pictures and reached into their wallets.  The kids, one white, one black, one brown, delivered the dollars to me.  One of the boys wanted to play with my solar-powered hula girls.  I took the pink one apart and showed them all how the sun’s rays generated a tiny current through a copper coil, creating a tiny magnetic field that caused a pendulum, hinged at the shoulders and equipped with a magnet at the bottom, to swing back and forth, and with it the hula girl’s torso and arms.  “They’re never too young to dance the hula or learn about electromagnetism,” I told the dads.

     

    A well-dressed woman holding a well-dressed child by the hand slowed as she came close.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  She laughed and kept walking.  Then she stopped.  “Changed your mind?”

     

    “No, no, but I will listen for a moment.  Sing me something.”

     

    I sang “Honolulu Eyes.”

     

    She said, “Thank you,” and gave me a fiver.

     

    A Brazilian woman danced a sexy hula, while her friends clapped and laughed ($3).  A thin old man stood at a distance while I finished off “Honolulu Baby” with a flourish.  He came forward to make a donation.  “Did you like that song?”  “It’s not the song, it’s how you sing it,” he said ($2).  Two kids wanted to hula.  “Make sure it’s ok with your mom,” I said to the elder.  “That’s my nanny,” she said, adding, “that’s his nanny too” ($4).

     

    A short, muscular man came running up to me as I sang “My Baby Just Cares for Me.”  He held a phone to his ear; he was drunk.  “Sing to my buddy in Michigan,” he said.  “Listen to this guy,” he said, “I’m in New York City.  In Central Park.  Listen to this guy.”  He held the phone up to me.

     

    I continued to sing, “My baby don’t care for shows, my baby don’t care for clothes…”

     

    “Sing about Ted Nugent,” he said.  “My baby don’t care for Ted Nugent, ‘cause he sucks.”

     

    His friend hung up on us.  The man explained that his friend was having a terrible time, gave me a dollar and walked away.

     

    It was a $25-plus day.  As I packed up, I said to the PA who’d been assigned my corner of the fountain, “Thanks for not asking me to stop playing.  Film crews usually want me to go away.”

     

    “No problem,” she said.  “We shot all the dialog yesterday.  Today was just people walking around, strictly M.O.S.”

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  2. In the Shade of the Maple

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    August 25, 2017 by admin

    The gomphrena has grown tall, the button-like flowers towering over the celosia, the pink conic flowers of which have turned into gray cones, like bottle brushes. The wood anemones along the path have grown up in 2 locations, both as tall as me and bursting with buds.

     

    At Bethesda Fountain, Lady Liberty, in shades, has wrapped a flag around a tourist for a photo op.  Snake man is there, as is the big bubble man.  Looking good for me, I thought, until I spotted the cowboy.  “Are you coming back?” he asked as I walked by.

     

    “Probably not.  Once I set up, I don’t like to move.”

     

    Under the maple, I laid out my paraphernalia and started my set.  A woman with her daughter walked by.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  She laughed, then stopped a few steps past me.  “Change your mind?”

     

    “No,” she said.  “Just listening.”

     

    I was playing “Fit as a Fiddle.”  When I finished, she dropped 65 cents in my case.

     

    A Muslim couple walked by with their young daughter.  Mom wore a hijab, dad pushed an empty stroller, and the little girl toddled up to me and started dancing.  Her dance consisted of bending her knees and bobbing her head.  Since I was already playing a song in G, “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love,” it was an easy transition into “The Hukilau Song,” also in G.

     

    A man of 35 or so was enchanted with the scene.  During the dance, he dug a dollar out of his wallet and placed it in my case.  “You’re terrific,” he said.  At the end, mom gave me a dollar too.

     

    Two moms and 3 daughters walked by.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”

     

    One mom answered, “We might.”  She polled the girls, 2 of whom were up for it, 1 was too shy.  Once more, we went to the hukilau.  “I’ve got it,” one mom told the other.  At the end of the dance, she gave each girl a single to put in my case.

     

    “You guys from New York?”

     

    “Chicago, the other big city.”

     

    My set complete, I pocketed $4.65.  In the cool shade of the maple, I’d hardly broken a sweat.

     

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  3. A Hot, Humid Thursday

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    August 20, 2017 by admin

    It sat down at the fountain, under a blazing summer sun.  While I set up, a young man asked me if I’d seen the other guy who plays at Bethesda Fountain.  I described the cowboy, without calling him that; the young man said that was him.  “He’s usually done by 12:30, then I take over.”

     

    The young man sat down next to me.  I tuned up while we chatted.  He was a singer and was thinking of busking.  “Do you use an amp and recorded accompaniment?”  He said no.  I suggested he check out the underpass between the boathouse and the conservatory pond, where people sailed model boats.  “The acoustics are really good.”  That seemed to have sold him.  He ambled eastward; I stood and played “Making Love Ukulele Style.”

     

    And I played for 30 minutes before a family of 6 walked by.  A pudgy little boy of 8 or 9 slowed, stopped, dug a quarter out of his pocket and gave it to me.

     

    A bride and groom came by.  I immediately stopped playing “Did You Ever See a Dream Walking,” and started “The Hawaiian Wedding Song.”  This is my practice for every wedding party.  They took pictures at the fountain near me, after which I asked if they had time for a hula.  Unlike all brides and grooms before them, they said yes.

     

    A crowd gathered to watch the happy couple dance to “The Hukilau Song.”  Some of them put money in my case, as I later saw; my attention was on the dance, which evolved from a stiff, unconvincing hula to an unrestrained series of spins and dips, ending with a long smooch on the lips.  The bride, who carried no money, asked if I’d be there for a while.  I told her another 30-40 minutes.  They returned the leis and headed toward the boathouse.  They didn’t come back.

     

    A man, passing by, dropped a buck.

     

    On the lawn that rises to the east, a large group of kids in white tees had been picnicking.  Lunch over, they walked down to the fountain 4 or 5 at a time.  A kid came forward and threw a coin into my case, then ran back to where his travel mates were assembling.  I expected to find another quarter, but it was a 2 Euro piece, which I replace with 2 singles from my wallet.

     

    A photographer captured the second verse of “Honolulu Baby,” lyrics by Mr. Ukulele:

     

    While down at Bethesda Fountain, underneath a hot summer sky,

    I play my ukulele for all the people walking by.

    The lovers feel the rhythm, the little babies clap their hands.

    The vendors do the hula beside their hot dog stands.

     

    For which I got a thumbs-up and a dollar.

     

    I’d played for 90 minutes.  With 7 singles and a quarter in my pocket, I quickly got out of the sun.

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