1. Underneath a Hot September Sky

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    September 28, 2017 by admin

    When I stopped to count the wood anemone (24-32), sweat had already started forming on my arms, and dripping into my eyes.  At Bethesda Fountain, standing out in the sun and playing for the people on the benches in the shade, I wondered if I might be a little nuts.

     

    A Swedish couple came forward and gave me a fiver.  “Thank you,” said the man, “that was a lot of fun.”

     

    “We really enjoyed it,” said the woman.  Me too.

     

    A woman from El Salvador wanted to take a picture with me.  I put a lei around her neck; she gave me a dollar.  Another woman gestured at the leis draped over my case.  I thought she wanted to dance.  “No, she doesn’t want to hula,” said the man she was with.  “How much?”

     

    I hesitated, since I usually don’t sell my leis.  “Three dollars.”

     

    He hesitated, then gave me the money.

     

    I was so happy to see Marcel and his scotch terrier, Maggie, stroll down the path and head toward me.  Marcel’s wife, Sue, was with him.  For many years, Marcel walked Maggie in the park and, if I was busking, Maggie would plop down in front of me and listen.  When that happened, more people stopped to admire Maggie than they did to hear me perform.

     

    I grabbed Marcel’s hand and shook it.  “I haven’t seen you all summer,” I said.

     

    “He had a stroke,” said Sue.

     

    “You look great, you walk and talk just fine.”

     

    “My eyes were effected,” he said, shrugging.  “I go to PT.  I’m feeling much better.”

     

    He asked about Agnes, my granddaughter; I’d shown him pictures of her when she was born last year.

     

    “We better keep going,” said Sue.  “The heat is bothering the dog.”

     

    A girl on a bicycle rode up with her friend, and, without dismounting, threw a dollar in my case.

     

    “Have you got time for a hula today?”

     

    “Where’s the nearest bathroom?”  I pointed toward the arcade.  “We’ll come back for a hula,” she said, and she did.  They were from California.  “We’re having a great time in New York,” she said.

     

    A 50-ish couple from Vancouver stopped to donate $2 and chat.  They had a place in Hawaii; he had just bought himself a tenor uke.  I handed him mine, and he strummed out a few chords.  “You know what I think?” he said, handing the uke back to me.  “I think you’re the most relaxed man in New York.”

     

    The heat and humidity were getting to me.  All the water in my thermos was gone, leaving a few ice cubes rattling around.  I’d decided to pack it in when a little girl of 12-14 months, holding her dad’s hand, toddled up to me.  “You want to dance?”

     

    She moved her head in a way her dad interpreted as affirmative.  I put the infant lei over her head, played the chorus and one verse of “The Hukilau Song,” took a buck from her dad and sat down.  My shirt was soaked through, and my leg burned from a spot I missed with sun screen.  I’d let the little girl toddle off with my lei.

     

    I put $13 in my pocket.  Macadamia nuts?

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  2. Off the Schneid

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    September 27, 2017 by admin

    The cylindrical celosia behind the benches has turned gray.  Only the gomphrena contributes color, its magenta buttons rising 6 feet on skinny stems.  The invasive wild asters have begun to wilt.  Farther down the path, boneset has overgrown half the wood anemone; the other half sports 18 flowers, most of them from the lower reaches of the plant.  The smaller plant, without any weedy interference, has at least 30 flowers.

     

    I set up in the unseasonable heat and played for a full 30 minutes without a single contribution.  It looked as if, for the first time, I might be shut out.  I stopped for a rest and a long drink of water.  As I started again, a family of 3 walked by, and dad pulled out a dollar for me.

     

    Two women stopped some distance away and turned their backs.  They were going through their change purses, which together yielded 80 cents.

     

    A 12-year-old came off the benches with another dollar, then joined his family as they left the area.  The benches were empty now.  Anyone with any sense had moved into the shade of the arcade, where a doo-wop group was performing.

     

    With 5 minutes left to go in my set, a well-dressed 40-something woman walked through the plaza.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”

     

    “I could use a hula,” she said.  She danced to “The Hukilau Song,” with effortless motions and a beatific smile.  She was from Napa, California.  “Sorry I don’t have more,” she said, putting a dollar in my case.

     

    “Not a problem.  Thanks for stopping.”

     

    “Aloha.”

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  3. The Return of Aloha

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    September 26, 2017 by admin

    The park on Monday was free from Friday’s annoyances.  The wood anemone derby had a new leader.  The path-side plant had only 8 flowers; boneset had overgrown half of it.  The smaller plant made a spectacular show of 25 flowers.

     

    Colin, the cowboy, told me that Saturday was even worse than Friday for noise.  Carole, the photographer, confirmed it.  Hers was the first dollar of the day, but she didn’t stick around to chat.  “It’s too hot,” she said.

     

    An Australian man ran up to me while I sang “Fit as a Fiddle.”  He joined me in singing the final 8 bars, then gave me a fiver.  Moments later, he returned with his wife and kids for pictures.

     

    A man from the benches gave me a dollar, followed by 2 hula-dancing walkaways.  The first was from India, a petite 20-something with coal-black eyes; the second from Indiana, a buxom blonde, who told me that she didn’t really know how to hula, but was a dancer and could fake it.

     

    A mom from the east side put leis around her toddler daughter’s neck and her own.  When the girl just stood there, the mom let go of her hand and danced on her own.  Afterward, she gave me a fiver and asked for my card.

     

    A large group of Australians entered the park.  Three of them hulaed while the rest cheered them on.  Then they walked away.  A little girl was waiting for the Australians to leave, then asked if she could dance.  She already had a dollar in her hand for me.  While she danced, another little girl came off the benches and threw some change into my case.

     

    The park seemed to be teeming with Australians today.  The next group arrived by bike.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  They did, but like their compatriots before them, they walked away after the dance.  Another Indian girl danced next and dropped a dollar.  A couple from Toronto gave me two.

     

    A man and woman in their 30’s contributed $2.  “Pretty music,” said the man.

     

    The final 30 minutes of my set was sung to an empty plaza.  The lunchtime crowd had gone back to work, or off to the next tourist spot.  I counted out $22.51 when a young couple approached.  “This is for you from earlier,” said the man, handing me a buck.  I tucked it in my pocket and revised my notes.

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