His dobro on his lap, Randy sat just outside Strawberry Fields. Ordinarily, an artist sets up at this spot, but Randy had taken it when the boys at the Imagine Mosaic gave him a hard time about joining in their rotation. The urban cowboy was back at the fountain, accompanied by a soft electronic bass line. I set up under the maple, soon joined by a caricaturist on the opposite side of the path.

As with so many days in the park this summer, the crowds were thin and the money tight. Two girls, sisters, were getting their portraits done. While one sat, the other checked me out; I gave her a big smile. A few minutes later, she put a dollar in my case. When it was her turn to sit for her portrait, her sister wandered round and she too put a dollar in my case. This artist was a fast worker. Others, who advertise a 10-minute portrait, can take 20-30 minutes. But, as promised, 10 minutes was all he needed. The portraits, framed in black matte, were tucked away among mom’s shopping bags. As her family walked away, the little girl found another dollar to give me. When offered, however, she declined to hula.

A mom with 3 kids stopped to listen. “Have you got time for a hula today?” Only one child stepped forward. Without once breaking into a smile, the girl waved her arms, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and danced through both verses of “The Hukilau Song.” She didn’t seem to be having any fun at all, yet mom thought it worth a fiver.

Two teens, who said they grew up in Hawaii, did a proper hula. They had learned all the moves to “The Hukilau Song” in third grade. They made quite an attraction, causing many people to stop and admire. At this point, two guys, raising money for a basketball league by selling candy, started shaking hands with my audience, dogging them down the path as they tried to get away. Soon everyone was gone, my Hawaiians included, and I none the richer.

A kid walked by and dropped 18 cents, followed by a 40-something woman who donated a dollar with a big smile and warm thank-you. Later, while I played “Tiptoe through the Tulips,” an old man of at least 80 took out his wallet. His companions kept walking while the man carefully extracted a single for me.

On my way out of the park, $10.18 in my pocket, I saw Randy again. He had set up his chair at the Imagine Mosaic, and was playing Beatle songs on a guitar, like everyone else in the rotation.