1. FX Friday

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    August 4, 2019 by admin

    It was gorgeous on Friday, so I strapped on my uke and made my way to the park.  The jazz quartet by the lake was reduced to a trio when I walked by, guitar, bass and drum; the fourth was sitting with his back against a tree, hat over eyes, hugging his saxophone.

    At Bethesda Fountain, Colin the cowboy said he needed another 20 minutes, so I headed toward the maple, stopped, considered and turned around.  “Changed my mind,” I told him, as I walked by.  I found a seat in the shade of the arcade, where a classical guitarist played Bach.  I did the ken-ken and sudoku in AM New York, a morning free daily, and in 20 minutes took over from Colin.

    A collection of teen girls and their chaperone sat near me as I set up.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  It was Taylor’s birthday; she and all but one of her friends danced to “The Hukilau Song.”  Afterward the chaperone gave me a fiver, then Taylor gave me another.  It had been a good decision to wait for center stage.

    A girl from Ottawa and her friend from Brazil stopped to hula.  Today was a good day for Canadians; after getting a dollar from the hula girls, a 20-something videographer captured the full chorus of “Ukulele Lady,” then gave me a bright blue Canadian fiver.

    For the rest of the afternoon, change and singles from those who walked by and those who listened from the benches piled up.  My last dollar came from the parents of a dancing baby, big head, fat thighs, bouncing up and down in place on chubby knees to “Get Out and Get Under the Moon.”

    On Friday’s foreign exchange markets, one Canadian dollar traded for 76 cents; so that bright blue fiver was worth $3.80.  My take on the day, therefore, adjusted for currency fluctuations, was $24.70.

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  2. Cat and Mouse

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    August 2, 2019 by admin

    Colin was finishing up; he looked exhausted.  On this hot day, while I wore shorts, a rayon shirt, sandals and a paper panama, Colin was in a leather vest, long pants, boots and a cowboy hat.  “I’ve had enough,” he said when he saw me. “It’s your turn.”

    Across the plaza, the jazz violinist was amped up high. “I thought the cops cleared out the amplifiers,” I said.

    Colin, who used an amp, smiled as he turned it off.  “They cleared us out yesterday.”  I made a gesture with open palms, as if to say, yet here you are today.  “Cat and mouse,” said Colin.  “Cat and mouse.”

    After my first 30 minutes, there was nothing in my case.  I took a long drink of water and looked around.  Despite the heat, there were lots of people walking through.  Given that I’ve never yet gone without making, at the least, round-trip senior subway fare, I stood up for my second 30 minutes and confidently began to play.

    Almost immediately, a passing 20-something Chinese man put a dollar in my case.  A short time later, a burly black man gave me $2, saying, “Good effort.”

    A busload of Spanish teenagers in red tee shirts flooded the plaza.  They pretty much avoided me, until 3 young women came close enough for me to ask, “Have you got time for a hula today?”  As I passed out leis, 3 more young women joined in.  They did a wonderful synchronized hula to “The Hukilau Song.”  A small crowd formed to watch and take pictures.  Afterwards I collected the leis and draped them over the lid of my open case again, where I could see the same 3 singles lying there. All 6 dancers had walked away.

    I started the third 30 minutes of my set, content that I’d broken even.  I earned 2 more dollars for singing a chorus of “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” for a 30-something woman who video-ed the performance.  She seemed never to have heard the song before.  “Thank you,” she said.  “That’s a really pretty song.”

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  3. 0

    August 1, 2019 by admin

    Who knew gomphrena was so heat-resistant?  Every other variety of plant was spent and wilted; only it and some shaded cleome persisted behind the benches.  A vine with small purple flowers wove through the rose bushes and twined south.  A single rose towered over green hips the size of cherry tomatoes.

    An unknown platoon guitarist, who introduced himself as James, invited me to come back at 2, when he and I could jam together.  “If you’re for real,” he added.

    “Oh, I’m real enough, thanks,” I said, “but I do a solo act.”

    At Bethesda Fountain, Carole, the photographer, was huddled in the shade of a wall.  She told me the police had come by and cleared out all the amplified performers.  Indeed, the only busker I heard was a violinist by the water, who was later joined by another.  They sounded amped to me, but you know how violins are.  A 3-wheeled police vehicle was parked in a corner.  If the cops were around, they’d shut them down, which, 40 minutes later, they did.

    It was hot.  People didn’t want to stop to hula.  “Has this group got time for a hula?” I asked the leader. They were day camp kids, many of whom were from Haiti.  As I handed out the leis, a skinny blonde of about the same age joined the kids and off they all went to the hukilau.  The day camp counselor gave me a buck; dad, who was from The Netherlands, gave me 2.

    A little kid from a passing tour gave me a Canadian nickel.

    A group of 3 young women sat on the bench and listened.  An older man, in Nick Carroway whites, joined them.  Together they sat through 2 more songs, then gathered their belongings, pooled the contents of their pockets and dispatched one of their members, with a handful of coins, to me, before walking off. Nick tipped his skimmer.

    A Belgian couple with a young daughter came next.  After a short dance, dad fumbled with the change in his wife’s palm for a tip, while I told him how much I liked Belgium, especially the Flemish north, whence he hailed.  It surprised him that anyone in America knew anything about Belgium.  After hearing my description of a meal consisting of stewfleis and hutsepot, he said, “You have been to Belgium.”  He gave up his counting, told his wife to give me all her change and added a single from his wallet.

    While we talked about Belgium, a Chinese girl, who had been sitting on the rim of the fountain, walked behind me and laid 4 quarters gently in my case.

    Two Mexican girls from Toronto danced the hula and gave me a dollar each.  A Chinese couple gave me a dollar because their little girl did not dance the hula.

    A woman asked how much for a lei.  “Two dollars.” 

    I handed her a lei for the little girl standing next to her.  “One dollar?”

    “Ten dollars,” I said, but settled for 2.

    “How much?” asked a woman, pointing to a solar powered hula girl. “Five dollars.”  There was no haggling.  At the end of the day, on top of $7 for merchandise, I made $12.65 for spreading the Aloha spirit.

    Around 2, I passed through Strawberry Fields on my way home. James was nowhere to be found.

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