The park is quieter on weekdays, yet school groups still clog the paths. I was caught in the middle of a pack of teenagers when an adult (teacher? chaperone?) praised one of the youngsters for identifying Daniel Webster as the man who made the first American dictionary. “No, no, no,” I joined in, “that was Noah Webster. Daniel was a Senator from Massachusetts, representing the money interests, and a staunch anti-Jacksonian.”

“See,” said the adult, “every day is an opportunity to learn something new.”

Walking past Arlen and Meta, past Nick, I noticed how much more color there was in the trees, the red growing tips visible, giving the whole scene an air of expectancy. At location #3, no sooner had I tuned up than a little girl stopped to dance the hula. My go-to hula music is “The Hukilau Song.” I usually sing the first verse and chorus, and only if the dancers are into it will I sing a second verse. There were 3 dancers in all this day; only the last, an elderly tourist from South America, got the second verse. She, alone among her friends, evoked the Aloha Spirit.

“Why would I say no to a hula in Central Park,” she told me. “Why would you say no?” she asked her friends.

Leaving the park, with $7.86 in my pocket, I weaved my way back through Strawberry Fields. Since yesterday, the pheasant’s eye narcissus has bloomed. On a bench, a serious young man sat by his sign, promising he’d make me laugh for a dollar, or my money back.