1. Hurricane Hula

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    September 20, 2017 by admin

    On a humid Tuesday morning, with hurricanes in the Atlantic driving powerful winds and moisture at New York City, I sallied forth to Bethesda Fountain with my ukulele.  On my way, I counted wood anemone flowers.  The plant along the path had been invaded by boneset, yet still managed 13 flowers; the other, 8.

     

    My paraphernalia started blowing away before I even set it out.  First the plastic hula girl packages, followed by the plastic bag I store leis in, then some leis themselves.  I anchored the leis in the outside pocket of my case, still allowing them to drape over the back so people could see them.  I protected the hula girls by standing them in the lee of my case and the ledge of the fountain.

     

    A little kid watched at a distance.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”

     

    She ran to her family, who were sitting around the fountain to my right.  As I sang my opening numbers to a largely empty plaza, I frequently turned to her and made beckoning motions.  She would not hula, but before the family moved on, she ran over and tossed some small change in my case.

     

    Two Swedish women had been eating their lunch by the lake.  As they walked by, one of them dropped a dollar and change.  “Thank you so much for the entertainment.”

     

    Carole stopped by to chat.  A photographer, she often came to the park with her camera.  “Why isn’t anybody paying attention to you?  Won’t anybody hula?”

     

    I offered her a lei, which, as usual, she refused.  She stood with me while I busked, and watched all the people who walked by without a glance at the man with the uke.  “I don’t get it,” she said, giving me a dollar, then went off to find something more interesting to shoot.

     

    An Israeli man came off the benches with $2.

     

    A woman smiled broadly as I played.  She asked lots of questions about my ukulele and told me she played guitar.  I offered her my uke.  “No strap?” she said, then sat down at the edge of the fountain and started to play.  This woman had no idea.  Her fingers flopped all over the fret board.  “Every chord is minor!”  She mumbled lyrics.

     

    I took the uke back and began to sing “My Baby Just Cares for Me.”

     

    A strong gust of wind whipped through the plaza.  My case blew closed with a thud; leis, business cards, cocktail umbrellas went flying.  The woman got up to help collect things nearby.  The leis and a section of AM NY had blown all the way to the niche where the eastern wall meets the stairs.  I picked my stuff out of the jumble of dead leaves, drinking straw wrappers and single ride metrocards.

     

    While I was gone, the woman had taken up my uke again and brought forth a tortured tune.  I battened things down, pleased to find that the lid had closed on my money before it could escape.  But where were my notes?  I always jot things down so I can write this blog.  Leaving the woman with my uke, I walked off to find the 3 ½ x 5 inch piece of paper.  It was not by the stairs, it hadn’t blown over the wall to the lawn.  There it was, at the feet of a woman on the bench.  I walked up to her, excused myself and retrieved it.

     

    With everything restored, I took back my uke.  “Would you rather I not sit here?” the woman said.

     

    “You’re free to sit wherever you want,” I said, “but it would be better if you listened from over there,” pointing to the benches.

     

    She got up and stood 10 feet in front of me, through several songs, applauding after each.  When she finally walked away, I felt a weight lift, and the return of joy.

     

    A young woman gave me a dollar.  She had to catch up with her family, or she would certainly hula.  “Bring them back here and everyone can hula.”

     

    At the end of my set, I sat down to make some notes.  A 40-something man with a red handlebar mustache walked up with a dollar.  It was s $7.91 day.  I got everything packed up but the leis.  The plastic bag I keep them in was gone.  For the third time, I searched downwind, this time without success.

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  2. Viva Mexico

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    September 15, 2017 by admin

    The dogwood berries have started to turn red.  They usually dangle over the button seller’s head, but today he’s not here.  The hot dog cart on the north corner is gone.  There are fewer pedicabs lined up in the shade, the drivers bent over their cell phones.  The park seems to have emptied out for the season.

     

    Today’s wood anemone score:  6-5.

     

    (I noticed a rival league of pink wood anemones farther down the path, under a tree near the road, but decided that entry to the competition was closed for the season, and moved on without counting flowers.)

     

    In the waters of the fountain, lotus flowers have ripened into brown-faced pods, large red and white flowers bloom singly or in pairs on their lily pads, and a tall grass that looks like bamboo rustles softly in the wind.

     

    Nearly a half hour passes before a couple appeared from around the fountain to give me $2.

     

    A tall young man recorded “All I Do Is Dream of You.” He gave me a dollar, and said he was from Uruguay.  I was delighted; it had taken an hour, but I’d earned 30 cents more than a senior round trip on the subway, my definition of break-even.  That was to be all for another 30 minutes.

     

    As I came to the end of my set, four girls from Mexico showed up.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”

     

    They were shy, they demurred, they stared at their feet, but they did not walk away, and soon succumbed to kibitzing, Mr. Ukulele-style.  They danced to both verses of “The Hukilau Song,” and together assembled 3 singles, doubling the day’s take.

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  3. The Crowds Thin

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    September 14, 2017 by admin

    Today’s score in the wood anemone derby:  5-4.

     

    As September progresses, the crowds in the park diminish.  Kids are back in school.  Tourists have gone home.  For much of the first 30 minutes of my set, I played to empty benches.  The trickle of people passing through gave me no notice.  At last, a man sitting by the lake stood up, walked toward me, and gave me a dollar.

     

    Two young Chinese women brusquely refused to hula.  They wandered away from the fountain to sit down in the shade.  After a few songs, one of them approached and put $2 in my case.  Right behind her came a tall man with another dollar.

     

    A pack of bicyclists dismounted.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  None did.  They scattered around the fountain area, taking in the sights.  When they reconvened at their bikes, instead of mounting and riding off, 3 teen girls walked toward me.  They were from Mexico.  One agreed to hula, one stood by to take pictures and the last one, with some encouragement, donned a lei and joined her friend.  At that point, the photographer asked for a lei too.  They danced a synchronized hula with grace and humor, then each came up with a dollar for me.

     

    “Are you Jewish?” asked a woman, putting a single in my case.  “I thought so, so are we.”  She and her husband were from Montreal.  “We also believe in Jesus.”

     

    “Me too, as an historical figure who has had great influence for millennia.”

     

    They shook their heads.  “No? If you mean do I believe that Jesus was the Messiah, then I’d have to say no.”  They made a half-hearted attempt to convert me, then walked off in search of more fertile ground.

     

    A young couple from Brazil was eager to hula.  Like most Brazilians, they danced with style, adding inventive flourishes at lyrics like, “we’ll throw our nets out into the sea,” and “where the lovely hula dancers roll their eyes.”  Unlike most Brazilians, they grasped the concept of tipping, in this case, a five dollar bill.

     

    The last 15-20 minutes were again quiet.  No further bill or coin covered Lincoln’s face in my case.  I folded up the fiver along with 7 singles.  On my way out of the park, I noticed that another flower had opened on the wood anemone near the path, increasing its lead, now 6-4.

     

    I found a new video on Youtube this morning.  I believe this is the Canadian girl from Monday (cf: Scotland and Kosovo Dance the Hula).  Check it out here and on my Third Party Images page:

     

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMrYd8ZPp5s

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