Despite the stormy forecast, the weather remained fine, so I ventured out for the third day in a row. It was much cooler than earlier in the week, and the humidity was tolerable. A breeze blew in off the lake. Wispy mares’ tail clouds floated high in a bleached blue sky. The mood in the park was slow, sedate; bicycle riders stopped at red lights.

Two young siblings from Timmins, Ontario, Canada, stopped to dance despite their dad’s saying “no, no, no,” when I asked if they had time for a hula. Mom took video, then put $2 in my case.

For another hour, no one paid any attention to me. Near closing time, an overweight boy in wire-rimmed glasses peeled away from his friends and dropped 16 cents. “Thanks, kid.”

I felt myself circling the drain all week, yet every day so far I managed to escape the insult of a zero-dollar day. Next week, like most New Yorkers, I’m leaving town. Perhaps September will see the return of the free-spending ukulele lovers. Until then, “Aloha.”