October has become my favorite month.  A day like Wednesday holds the record for perfection, the temp, the sky, the crowds, the works.  Center stage was all mine.  As soon as I started, a small band of Argentinians stopped to hula.  It was a ragged dance by a fun-loving group.  In addition to “The Hukilau Song,” they danced to “My Little Grass Shack,” at the end of which I retrieved the leis before they asked for another song.  The leader, a polite 50-something man who spoke English, thanked me profusely and put a fiver in my case.

A family from Tennessee, mom, dad, junior and sis, slowed as they got close to me.  “Have you got time for a hula today?”  No, they did not, yet they didn’t move on.  I cajoled junior, “Do you know anybody here?  No?  Then what are you afraid of?”

Dad said, “Let ‘er rip.”  He took a lei and put it on.  “Come join me,” he said to his family, but instead they moved away, so he danced his hula alone, and did a fine job of it, returned the lei and pulled a single from his wallet.

A young man walked up to me and said, “You are really cool.  Keep it up.”  He was from Germany, a Jehovah’s Witness, although why he felt the need to mention that I don’t know.  He put a bright new quarter in my case.

A half-dozen or so Chinese tourists walked by.  One of them, an old lady, stopped in front of me and gave me the once-over.  Scowling, she gave me a dollar.  I asked her if she’d like to hula, but she didn’t seem to understand.

A young woman had been listening from the benches; I watched her toes tapping.  When I smiled at her, she smiled back.  Later, she walked up with $2 in her hand, and told me she was from Colombia.

A woman poured a purseful of coins into my case.  She was from Manchester (“right in the middle of the UK”).  A late teen with his parents gave me dollar, followed by a 20-something who’d been listening from the bench.

“Do you like ukulele music?” I asked him.

“Not really, but I like to support local musicians.”

More listeners, more dollars.

A woman approached and identified herself as a pediatric nurse at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles.  She wondered if I’d sing a song to her friend, Phyllis, who was celebrating her 30^th year of employment there.  I readily agreed, singing “Happy Anniversary to You,” for which I received a 10-spot.

A woman stepped forward from a family of Koreans.  I put a lei around her neck.  She danced while her family took pictures.  She may have put money in my case.  Money was coming my way so fast, I lost track of who gave what.

A man asked if I’d sing a song for his girlfriend with the lyrics, “Tony misses you.”  Adapting a simple chord pattern to simple lyrics, “Tony misses you, Tony misses you, you must believe it’s true that Tony misses you,” Tony was delighted.  He tossed a fiver in my case, then sat down on the bench and sent off the video.

My set ended after 90 minutes, with a pile of bills in my case, $29, plus another $2.54 in change.  I love October; it’s become my favorite month.