1. The Difference a Dime Makes

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    June 13, 2018 by admin

    At 72nd St. it was the same show as last week.  Only the workhorse red and pink dog roses provided color on the ground; in the air, dogwood flowers fluttered white as clouds.  Except for a random stella and a couple of yellow foxglove, the park was undergoing June death, or, if not quite death, then June coma, when spring sputters out and nature takes a breather before full-blown summer.

     

    The clover heads in the lawn surrounding Daniel Webster were white and shriveled.  “Look at that, Daddy,” said a boy of about 10.  Birds had built a nest in the crook of Webster’s arm.  The glorious catalpa trees were a mess; browning petals dripped like candle wax onto the leaves below.

     

    Forget Bethesda Fountain.  The acrobats had moved their act down from the promenade.  Music blared.  One of the acrobats was warming up the audience with gansta-style shtick, getting them to call out and clap with him.  Colin the cowboy was packing up.  I kept walking, first to the maple, where a caricaturist had set up, then to Location C, on the path across from the boat rental booth, in the shade of some tall bushes.

     

    After a slow start, 2 toddlers, aged 2 and 3, stopped to dance the hula.  Crowds gathered to soak up the cuteness, then dispersed at the end of “The Hukilau Song.”  Dad gave me $2.

     

    A kid of 7 or 8 got a quarter from his father and gave it to me.  A little later a 20-something threw in another quarter.  I was thinking about my breakeven when a 60-something woman came out of nowhere with a tightly crumpled single for me.  A gentleman emptied his pocket of change.

     

    A 40-something woman ran up and started picking out a lei.  She put a dollar in my case and asked for a photo.  Her husband or boyfriend took the picture; she hated it.  “My nose is all lit up.”  He took another that she didn’t like either.  “Maybe I just don’t like the way I look.”  I put my hat on her head to shade her nose; this one was a keeper.

     

    “Now a hula dance,” she said, and off we went to the hukilau.

     

    Near the end of my set a young man dumped a fistful change into my case.  “Nice job.”

     

    I counted out $6.93, happy with my haul.  Then I spotted a dime, hiding in the felt creases of my case, and was thrilled to cross into 7 dollar territory.

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  2. I Should Have Known

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    June 9, 2018 by admin

    On Thursday, after another week of rain, I got back to the park.  In addition to the dog roses, which are going gangbusters, the stella d’oro lillies are coming on strong; their scattered early orange blossoms, judging by the mass of the surrounding sun-seeking stems, will soon be thick with flowers.  Above them waves a single Philadelphia fleabane, a tall weed, which the volunteer gardeners must have missed.  Behind the button man, there is a newly planted plot of cleome.

     

    A platoon troubadour at the Imagine Mosaic sang “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”

     

    Next to a patch of still-producing hellebore are coral bells, one with deep claret leaves, almost black, another with rose and green leaves.  At the road, under a giant pin oak, astilbe stalks have not yet revealed their color.  Farther up the path, 2 catalpa trees are gowned in white florets.  The petals are streaked with pink and stained yellow with pollen.  Bean-like pods, having dangled from the bare branches all winter, will soon split, releasing their seeds before falling to the ground.

     

    It is early June, and the Central Park Conservancy has taken over Bethesda Fountain again for its donors.  I should have known.  I’ve written about it in posts for June almost every year.  To check them out, click on any year in June, scroll to the bottom and click “older entries.”

     

    As in past years, I went to the maple and played pretty much to myself.  It was a sunny, cool day.  I had a glorious view, in the distance, across the water, of the buildings along Central Park West, from The Majestic to The Museum of Natural History, while directly in front of me birds picked at the ripening fruit on the English mulberry tree.

     

    An east side mom stopped under the mulberry to make a phone call.  Her 2 children, a boy of 5 and a girl of 7, stared at me.  “Would you like to do a hula dance?”

     

    Without taking the phone from her ear, the mom said to her daughter, “You know how to hula dance.”

     

    I put leis on their necks, then off we went to the hukilau.  The mom did her own hula from the other side of the path.  “You want to join?”

     

    “That’s okay,” she said.  “I’ll be the videographer.”

     

    At the end of the dance, she pulled out her wallet and announced, “I’m running out of money.  Have you got change for a 20?”

     

    “How much do you want back?”

     

    “Give me 10.”

     

    “Thank you very much,” I said.  “Mahalo.”  So ended my set.

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